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The Temporary Detective

Author: Writer, singer and actor Joanne Sydney Lessner draws on her own experiences pursuing a performing career in New York City for her acclaimed Isobel Spice Mysteries. With her husband, composer/conductor Joshua Rosenblum, she has co-authored several musicals, including the cult hit Fermat’s Last Tango and Einstein’s Dreams, based on the celebrated novel by Alan Lightman, opening Off Broadway in November 2019. Her play Critical Mass received its Off Broadway premiere in October 2010. Joanne is also a regular contributor to Opera News and a graduate of Yale University. Phones, light typing…and murder. Think breaking into show business is hard? Try landing a temp job without office skills. That’s the challenge facing aspiring actress Isobel Spice when she arrives in New York City, fresh out of college and deficient in PowerPoint. After being rejected by seven temp agencies for her lack of experience, Isobel sweet-talks recruiter James Cooke into letting her cover a last-minute vacancy at a bank. New to his own job, and recently sober, James takes a chance on Isobel, despite his suspicion that she’s a trouble-magnet. His misgivings are borne out by lunchtime, when she stumbles across a dead secretary in a bathroom stall. With her fingerprints on the murder weapon, Isobel sets out to prove her innocence by investigating the crime herself. While learning to juggle phone lines and auditions, she discovers an untapped talent for detective work—a qualification few other office temps, let alone actresses, can claim.

Joanne Lessner · Realistic
Not enough ratings
51 Chs

Chapter 50

Isobel watched, amused, as the men squirmed in their chairs. "That's why you didn't find any jelly in her cosmetics bag," she said to Detective Kozinski. "I thought you were wrong, and she must have been taking her diaphragm out."

"No," said Detective Kozinski, "we were pretty sure she was putting it in. There were no traces of semen or jelly." She gave a wan smile. "I just assumed she hadn't read the accompanying literature thoroughly."

"This is bullshit!" Frank finally exploded. "Maybe you're paranoid enough to write down that kind of stuff, but there's no way of knowing that's what Doreen meant except to ask her."

"It's not bullshit."

It was Stan who spoke, in a miserable voice.

Isobel turned to him and asked gently. "How did you know it was Frank?"

Stan looked down at his fingernails, which Isobel noticed for the first time were painted a lovely plum. "The skirt."

Frank opened his mouth and started to say something, but thought better of it.