People are being murdered in Peg MacDonald’s neighborhood and her husband, George, wants Peg to investigate.
Ever since George died unexpectedly in a small plane crash, his spirit has been haunting Peg urging her to do the investigative work they used to do together. Peg is content to work as an assistant to the newspaper’s popular advice columnist, Aunt Emma, but when she discovers a letter that concerns the murders, Peg is suddenly drawn into the investigation. To complicate her life further, Peg begins a romantic relationship with the Homicide Detective assigned to the case. Following clues puts Peg into the path of a killer. Following her heart puts her in the middle of an impossible love triangle.
I had called 911 from my cell phone and then remained at the entrance of the alley to wait for the police. George had stayed next to me all this time, but when John got out of his car and saw me standing there, my dear husband deserted me again.
“Peg, don’t tell me you’re the lady who reported this homicide.”
“I’m afraid so.”
John shook his head sadly, like I was the unluckiest woman he’d met in a long time, and introduced me to his partner. Dave shook my hand and favored me with one of his nice smiles. Then, I took them down the alley to see Helen, and no one smiled again for the rest of the afternoon.
After viewing the victim, John insisted on questioning me personally. He walked me down to the park, while Dave and the lab people went over the crime scene. I guess John thought he was doing me a favor by getting me away from the horror of it all.
“Let’s sit over here, Peg,” he said taking my arm and steering me towards an empty bench. He pulled out his pad and pencil and looked at me like he was really sorry to put me through another ordeal.
Of course, his warm, compassionate attitude flew away quicker than the birds on the park bench when I admitted my involvement with the dead woman.
The whole story came out just like I was afraid it would earlier when I decided not to call him, and the more I said, the angrier he got.
“You’ve got no business sticking your nose in a police matter,” John told me emphatically. “Who do you think you are, Brenda Star?”
Brenda Star was an investigative reporter, the heroine of a long-running, nationally distributed comic strip. The Chronicle had carried the strip for years, and I was an avid reader. Brenda was always solving cases that baffled the police. However, I didn’t think this was the time to remind Hogan of that.