A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery

I gasped for air, afraid to move. Blinking away the veil of fear from the fall, I peered up at the widow’s walk. Mrs. James and Mrs. Abernathy were gone.

Everything was fuzzy, but I tried to take inventory. I wiggled my toes in my boots. Moved my fingertips. Shifted my hips.

Everything hurt.

Finally, I turned my aching head, just a touch, to look at what I was lying next to.

I registered the fur-lined coat, red and white hat, and black belt.

Remembering what Mrs. James had said up on the widow’s walk, my gaze slowly traveled down until I saw black boots. A wave of nausea filled my gut. Not a what, I realized. A who. I had stumbled upon another body.