Dial Me for Murder Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Praise for the Paige Turner Mysteries

  MURDER ON A HOT TIN ROOF

  “Paige is a delightful, irresistible, funny, and charming sleuth. She is witty and observant and Abby makes the perfect Watson to assist her. I found Amanda Matetsky’s knowledge of life in the 1950s interesting and informative . . . I enjoyed this book for its wit and likable characters. A good read with some good laughs.” —Gumshoe Review

  “It is refreshing to be back in a time where good, old-fashioned gumshoeing got the work done. Paige is a believable heroine whose teeth-gritting in the light of being a working girl in a man’s world will make the blood of any woman boil, while her antics with her free-spirited neighbor will have you laughing! This is a delightful book and every mystery reader will love to read on.” —Roundtable Reviews

  “Lively characters, loads of offbeat charm, and spirited hijinks . . . What makes this book fun is Paige’s saucy narrative voice . . . Amanda Matetsky invests her heroine with enough pluck, sincerity, and charm to make this an entertaining ride.” —Habitual Reader

  “[The] banter is delightful and quick and moves the story along at a fast clip . . . From the first line to the last, the action never stops . . . The tale is pert and funny. I enjoyed the characters for their freshness and enthusiasm.” —MyShelf.com

  HOW TO MARRY A MURDERER

  “The author has successfully evoked the spirit of the people and the times of the 1950s and New York. The characters are delightful, especially Paige, who is hardworking, energetic, clever, and funny.” —MyShelf.com

  “A rich and satisfying story.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “This book grabbed me and held me right to the end.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  MURDER IS A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

  “December 1954 in Manhattan is a trip down memory lane and Amanda Matetsky captures the ambience of the era to perfection. The heroine’s friend Abby makes a perfect crime-solving partner and some of their adventures are funny. Readers will thoroughly enjoy Murder Is a Girl’s Best Friend because of Paige, Abby, and 1950s New York.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “This book is a great example of fun fiction that uses much of the style of film noir . . . Paige is a clever, interesting heroine who’s well-balanced by her Bohemian artist neighbor, Abby. This is an excellent book to read in any venue because it immediately transports the reader to New York in 1954.”

  —The Best Reviews

  MURDERERS PREFER BLONDES

  “A beautifully realized evocation of time and place; 1950s New York City comes alive for those of us who were there and even those who weren’t. Amanda Matetsky has created a very funny and interesting female protagonist, Paige Turner, and put her in the repressed and male-dominated year of 1954, which works like a charm. This is more than a murder mystery; this is great writing by a fresh talent.”

  —Nelson DeMille, author of Wild Fire

  “Prepare to be utterly charmed by the irrepressible Paige Turner, and take an enchanting trip back in time to New York City, circa 1954 . . . A thoroughly fun read.”

  —Dorothy Cannell, author of Goodbye, Ms. Chips

  “Amanda Matetsky has created a wonderfully sassy character in the unfortunately named Paige Turner. In her 1950s world where gals are peachy and cigarettes dangle from the lips of every private dick, a busty platinum blonde finds herself at the wrong end of a rope and Paige is on the case of a swell whodunit, sweetheart. Delightfully nostalgic and gripping. Irresistible.”

  —Sarah Strohmeyer, author of Bubbles All the Way

  “A great idea well-executed—funny, fast, and suspenseful.”

  —Max Allan Collins, author of Road to Perdition

  “Murderers Prefer Blondes is a gas; full of vivid characters and so sharp in its depiction of the fifties when you read it you’ll feel like you’re sipping champagne in the Copacabana.”

  —Betsy Thornton, author of A Whole New Life

  “Paige Turner is the liveliest, most charming detective to emerge in crime fiction in a long time. She is the product of her time and place—New York in the fifties—with a little Betty Boop and a little Brenda Starr in her makeup, but she is also her own woman, funny, smart, energetic, brave, hardworking, and determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. She is irresistible, a force of nature.”

  —Ann Waldron, author of The Princeton Impostor

  “Matetsky adeptly captures the atmosphere of the 1950s, and her characters—especially Paige and her friend Abby— are a delight. This journey back to a time that now seems innocent is refreshing.” —Romantic Times

  “A fun new mystery series . . . A real page-turner.”

  —BookBrowser

  “A fast-paced, smart debut with a feisty heroine that entertains and keeps readers eagerly turning Paiges.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Amanda Matetsky

  MURDERERS PREFER BLONDES

  MURDER IS A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

  HOW TO MARRY A MURDERER

  MURDER ON A HOT TIN ROOF

  DIAL ME FOR MURDER

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coinci
dental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DIAL ME FOR MURDER

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / September 2008

  Copyright © 2008 by Amanda Matetsky.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form

  without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-0-425-22050-4

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks

  belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For the readers who’ve stuck with me

  from the first Paige to the last

  Acknowledgments

  I am infinitely grateful for the support (and tolerance) of my family and friends—especially Harry Matetsky1, Molly Murrah, Liza, Tim, Tara, and Kate Clancy, Ira Matetsky, Matthew Greitzer, Rae and Joel Frank, Sylvia Cohen, Mary Lou and Dick Clancy, Susan Frank, Ann Waldron, Nelson DeMille, Dianne Francis, Art Scott, Betsy Thornton, Santa and Tom De Haven, Nikki and Bert Miller, Herta Puleo, Esther and Harold Schoenhorn, Marte Cameron, Sandra Thompson and Chris Sherman, Cameron Joy, Donna and Michael Steinhorn, Stephanie and Burt Klein, Lois and Eric Rosenthal, Mark Voger, Gayle Rawlings and Debbie Marshall, Judy Capriglione, Martha Cevasco, Judy Dini, Betty Fitzsimmons, Nancy Francese, Jane Gudapati, Carleen Kierce, April Margolin, Doris Schweitzer, Carol Smith, Roberta Waugh, and her right-hand man, St. Joe.

  The Lovely/Lively Literacy Ladies—Julia Berkowitz, Anne DuPrey, Carole Edwards, Demetria Muldaur, and Marilyn Tinter—are the most literate (and amusing) friends a writer could ask for. And my co-agents, Annelise Robey and Meg Ruley of the Jane Rotrosen Agency, and my new editor at Berkley, Kate Seaver, are the skillful, cheerful (and patient!) ones who make it all happen. Many thanks to one and all.

  Prologue

  LIFE IS JUST A DREAM, THEY SAY, BUT LATELY mine has been more like a nightmare. Shocking, sweaty, and horrifying—filled with visions and demons so ugly and evil they’d cause even the bravest soul to wake up screaming. You may think I’m exaggerating, but let me assure you I’m not. I’ve experienced things in the past few days no woman should ever have to endure . . . or even know about.

  But don’t worry—I’m going to tell you about it anyway.

  That is, after all, what I do. For a living, I mean. I tell stories. True stories. And unfortunately for me (and most of the other pitiful, or in some cases abominable, characters you’ll soon meet if you keep on reading), the tale I’m about to tell is as factual as it is frightful.

  But first, a few facts about me. . . .

  (Sorry, but I have to give you some background information, you know! I need to explain a few things about my peculiar life—and some of the peculiar people who populate my peculiar life—so that you can understand how I got caught up in the aforementioned nightmare, and why I’m compelled to tell you all about it now. Please bear with me. The following introductory details will lay the groundwork for the disturbing story to come, and help you separate the good guys from the bad guys . . . well, sort of, anyway.)

  My name is Paige Turner (no laughing or groaning or rolling eyes, please!), and I’m an investigative reporter for a popular true crime magazine, Daring Detective. At this particular point in time—Wednesday, October 19, 1955—I’m the only female crime reporter in all of Manhattan . . . probably even the whole country. And you can take it from me, that’s a darn scary place for a woman to be (even when she’s not in the process of probing into and writing about the most abhorrent murder scandal she’s ever encountered in her short but stressful career).

  I’m not complaining, mind you. I really love my job. I’ve wanted to be a crime and mystery writer since the age of fourteen, when I discovered that reading Erle Stanley Gardner and Rex Stout was a lot more fun than studying Shakespeare. And now, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, I’m really proud that I’ve finally broken through the gender barrier to become a Daring Detective staff writer, and that I’ve managed to develop and expand a couple of my true DD stories into twenty-five-cent paperback novels (like the one you’re reading now).

  It hasn’t been easy, though. And as hard as it was for me to break into the “manly” world of crime periodicals and paper-backs, that’s how tough it’s been to maintain my position.

  Did I say tough? Ha! That’s an understatement if ever I wrote one. Being the only woman on the six-member staff of a testosterone-driven magazine like Daring Detective is downright treacherous. Except for Lenny Zimmerman—the skinny, smart, bespectacled art assistant who’s my only friend in the office—all of my male coworkers would like nothing better than to see me stripped naked, tarred and feathered, and run out of the publishing business on a rail. They simply can’t handle having a determined, ambitious, and reasonably attractive young woman running alongside (and in some cases ahead) of them in the nine-to-five rat race. It threatens their supremacy and makes them turn beastly.

  Brandon Pomeroy—the tall, dark, and somewhat handsome editorial director of the magazine—is the most beastly one of all. Not in a brash, masculine, animalistic kind of way (I could deal with that), but in a cold, slithery, reptilian way that makes your skin crawl. If Brandon Pomeroy—or Mister Pomeroy, as he insists on being called, even though he’s only six years older than me—ever had a soft, warm, friendly feeling for any female in his life, I’d eat my favorite hat (and those of you who know me know I wouldn’t part with my beloved red beret without a fight).

  Pomeroy comes from a very rich and powerful family. In fact, his older second cousin is none other than Oliver Rice Harrington—the superwealthy publishing mogul who owns half the country’s newspapers and magazines, Daring Detective included. That’s the only way Pomeroy ever landed his job at DD, you should know—by being born into the right family. He certainly isn’t qualified to be an editorial director! Not unless acting like an effete snob, drinking gin for breakfast, and snoozing at one’s desk are the main requirements for that lofty position.

  Fortunately for the lowlier members of the staff (of which, by virtue of being female, I am the lowliest), Pomeroy isn’t DD’s first in command. That distinction belongs to Harvey Crockett, the big-bellied, white-haired, cigar-chewing ex-newspaperman who’s been editor in chief since the magazine’s inception. Crockett is gruff, grouchy, and impatient—a lifelong bachelor and proud of it. The only reason he ever brought a woman (i.e., me) onto the staff was to make and serve the coffee. (All the typing, filing, phone-answering, letter-taking, news-clipping, invoicing, and proofreading chores were, I’m convinced, an afterthought.) And the only reason I was ever assigned to write any stories for the magazine was because the exclusive, in-depth, first-person reports I investigated in secret and wrote on my own time—and finally prevailed upon Crockett to publish— increased DD sales by more than 30 percent.

  So, guess what. I’m being “allowed” to write lots of DD stories now.

  Mike Davidson, the magazine’s near-illiterate yet ultracocky head staff writer, isn’t too happy about that. And neither is Mario Caruso, the touchy-feely art director who thinks he has a right to touch and feel me whenever (and wherever) he likes. Mike and Mario are both married and in their early thirties, and t
hey each have two little kids. That explains, I suppose, why they’re so grudging and possessive of the Daring Detective payroll. They have families to feed, and they don’t want some “flighty female upstart” (their words, not mine) laying claim to any portion of the magazine’s extra assets—even when she’s generating those assets herself!

  But Mike and Mario don’t know me very well. I’m not the least bit flighty (except when I’m swooping around the city, flapping my investigative wings), and I don’t have an upstart bone in my body. I’ve been working for the magazine for almost four years now, and I’m still making just seventy-five dollars a week. (The guys all make a hundred or more—and in the case of Crockett and Pomeroy it’s much more.) And though I do try a lot harder, and take many more risks, and work many more hours than any of my male coworkers do, that doesn’t mean I’m an upstart. What it means is that I’m a single working woman— a struggling Korean War widow, if you want to get specific— striving to pay my bills and cough up the fifty-dollar-a-month rent on my tiny, rundown, cockroach-infested Greenwich Village apartment.

  Paige Turner isn’t my given name, you should know. (What decent, self-respecting parents would burden a daughter with a ridiculous moniker like that?) And it isn’t my pen name, either. (I’ve had some stupid ideas in my life, but that wasn’t one of them.) What it is, is my married name, and I have only my late husband, Bob Turner, to thank—or should I say blame?—for it.

  My best friend, Abby Moscowitz—the gorgeous, oversexed, opinionated beatnik artist who lives right across the hall from me—says I should change my name altogether. “It’s a joke!” she keeps insisting. “When people hear it, they laugh, you dig? You’ll never be taken seriously—especially in the publishing industry. You need a smart and sassy name. Something that will grab people’s attention without giving them the giggles.”