Easy to Kill

Another mystery for the famous Mme. Storey to solve.

Do you like the lifestyle in Newport?

Mme. Storey prefers New York, for sure.

Follow her in this investigation that is both dangerous and  difficult.

There are many twists and turns that keep it interesting.

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The Millionaire Racket

The Hero of Newport

The Dump

Attack from Within

We Lose Our Job

The Boycott

A Letter


The Typewriter

Mr. Gibbs Cumberland

The Whip Cracks

The Law Moves

In Jail

A New Victim

Miss Betsy Again

Murder in the Air

At the Chowder Club

A Crowded Hour

In the Balance

A Hitch to Town

Red Flower in the Night

The Hide out

Party of Four

A Voyage

Our Hostess

Lying Low

The Trap Is Set

The Trap Is Sprung

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A Letter

I must hold up my story for a moment at this point to introduce Miss Betsy Pryor, who was later to play such an important part in the case.

As with all celebrities, Mme. Storey's fan mail is a considerable factor in her life. Whenever we are getting any newspaper publicity it reaches enormous proportions. Some time or another it all has to be read.

When we came to Newport I was hoping we had escaped it for a while, since only important letters were to be forwarded. But the mere notice in the Newport paper of her arrival produced a fresh supply from local sources.

As I was skimming over these letters all so much alike and so tiresome, I came upon one which forced me to sit up and take notice, because it struck a fresh note.

'Dear Madame Storey:

'I have just read of your coming to Newport. My principal amusement is reading the newspapers, because the spectacle of the folly of my fellow men sets me up in my own opinion.

‘Thus I have followed your career—or at least as much of it as the newspapers dare to print. I know you cannot be the marvelous creature that the silly newspapers try to make you out—at least, I hope you've got more sense. But I confess to a great curiosity to find out.

'I wonder if, before you leave Newport, you could find half an hour to come call on an old woman who is neither handsome nor clever, and not at all good tempered. You may well ask: well, why should you, then, and there is no answer, except that I have a foolish notion you and I share something in common in this mad world. If I am mistaken, there's no harm done.

'I would come and see you, but my appearance on the street would create such a sensation I fear it would be embarrassing to you. Besides, it would destroy a fiction that I have been building up for forty years.

'Sincerely yours,

'Betsy Pryor.'

“Well!” said Mme. Storey, smiling broadly when I showed her this letter. “Either the old lady is slightly cracked or she is one of those crusted characters that are the salt of the earth. There are too few of them in America.”

“Shall you answer the letter?” I asked.

“Most certainly! But wait! Let's try to find out something about her first. She is no ordinary person. Ask Crider to make inquiries.”

Crider's report ran:

'Miss Betsy Pryor is a rich old maid who lives in a big house on Brenton's Cove. The whole place has a wall around it nine feet high, with broken bottles on top, and nobody is allowed past the lodge house at the entrance. The old lady herself has not been seen in forty years, and I couldn't find anybody who remembered what she looked like.

'She's become a regular myth. Some say all her folks are dead and she's quarreled with all her friends. Some say she was crossed in love, and still sits in the parlor in her wedding dress, waiting for the bridegroom.

'Some say she has warts all over her face and a flowing beard, and that's why she won't show herself. There's no doubt but what she's queer. Won't see anybody and won't have a telephone in the house, but writes to the newspapers, giving everybody hell.'

Mme. Storey laughed out loud when she read this.

“Bully for Betsy!” she said. “Fancy having the courage in these days to chuck out the telephone. Take a letter to her.”

'Dear Miss Pryor:

'I like your style. I instantly felt as you say, that we shared something in common, though I fear you were only flattering me in an underhand way. Unfortunately, at the moment I am entangled in a multitude of affairs that seem to become more and more complicated.

'I lack the resolution to cut free as you have done, and insist on leading a free life. However, before I leave Newport I shall certainly come to see you. I would not miss it on any account.

'Sincerely yours,

'Rosika Storey.'

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