Sisterhood is Deadly
Author: Lindsay Emory
Publisher: Witness Impulse
"We'll be sisters 'til we die…"
"We'll be sisters 'til we die…"
Margot Blythe is a professional sorority girl. As a Sisterhood Mentor for her beloved Delta Beta, she travels to colleges around the country, advising on serious sorority issues (and picking up all the gossip along the way). Margot is thrilled when she's invited back to her alma mater to assist the Delta Betas—but tragedy strikes when their chapter advisor drops dead during a meeting, sending shockwaves down sorority row.
Shaken by the death—especially when foul play is suspected—Margot has to step up. Appointed the honor of serving as temporary chapter advisor, she now must manage the drama of fifty frazzled sorority women with secrets to hide; protect the house from the annual fraternity pledge pranks, which are more ominous than they seem; and worst of all, combat the ruinous rumors surfacing about a Delta Beta phone sex ring. If she wants to keep rival sororities and a suspicious (but dangerously cute) local policeman from bringing Delta Beta's reputation down, it's up to Margot to find out the truth—about whether a sister could have committed such an unimaginable sin as murder.
A sassy debut for fans of Susan McBride and Meg Cabot.
“Don’t say another word,” I said to the young woman being questioned. Her nose was red and puffy, her cheeks tear-stained, her chapter-worthy shift dress wrinkled and tired-looking.
“We were in the middle of something,” said the police officer. I turned to him, my hands on my hips. He wasn’t in uniform, but he wore a navy polo embroidered with the police insignia. A name tag identified him as “HATFIELD.”
“Mr. Hatfield,” I addressed him.
“Lieutenant Hatfield,” he corrected me.
“This is a minor. You can’t question a minor without a guardian or parent.” I’d read that somewhere in a manual. It seemed legit.
“She’s not under suspicion, Miss …”
“Blythe.” I provided my name with all the authority I could muster. I was the chapter’s Sisterhood Mentor, after all. “Margot Blythe.”
Hatfield’s head jerked back, a satisfying reaction. Funny how well people will respond to an authoritarian tone. “Ms. Blythe,” he started to say again. “I’m just talking to witnesses. This is a friendly conversation. Nobody’s under any suspicion.”
“Fine,” I said. “But I’m staying right here.” I wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulder so she knew I was there for support and protection.
Hatfield didn’t welcome me, but he couldn’t do much about it. He looked back at his notes and started again.
“You said you were wrapping up the chapter meeting and the girls started to recite something …””
“Objection,” I said.
Hatfield raised his eyebrows at me. “What did you say?”
“Objection,” I repeated. Did he think I’d never seen Law & Order? I’d always liked the ‘order’ part better—more drama. I looked at the girl. “Don’t answer that.”
Looking from me to the girl, Hatfield ignored me and repeated the question. “What were y’all reciting?”
“Objection!” I glared at him.
Hatfield looked stunned. “What in the world are you objecting to?”
“You’re asking about privileged information!”
“Was a lawyer there? A doctor? A priest?”
Now he was talking crazy. “Of course not,” I said. “You are asking about secret sorority rituals. We can't share those with anyone who has not been initiated, and that includes the police.”
Hatfield lowered his pad and pen and stared at me, like I was some kind of exotic tropical bird. “Who are you again?”
“Margot Blythe,” I repeated hotly.
“Got that,” he said. “I meant, why are you here?”
“I’m the designated Sisterhood Mentor to the Sutton chapter for the next six weeks. And in the unfortunate absence of the chapter advisor, it’s my duty, as the representative of the Delta Beta Executive Council, to advise these young ladies accordingly.”
His posture and expression remained hostile. “You can’t object to these questions,” he ground out.
“Do you see this badge?” I asked him, hooking a thumb into my suit lapel, where a small gold pin in the shape of a delta and a beta was prominently displayed. “This badge says I can object.”
Hatfield seemed to relax, which I took as a sign that he understood my position and was going to be reasonable. Then he took something out of his pants pocket: a gold shield. “Do you see this badge?”
And that was when I was arrested in front of an entire sorority chapter.
About the Author
Hi! I’m a writer. And a mom. And a wife. And a sniper. And a pastry chef. (Any Flight of the Conchords fans? Anyone?) I often speak without thinking. My brain is stuffed full of useless trivia, which is really fun at parties and on blogs (See, above.) I live in Texas. I’m a Diet Coke addict, and yes, I know it’s poison, and no, I’m not going to stop. Yo hablo espanol. But most importantly, I’m a writer. I write because it’s been in my heart since my first grade teacher gave me a pencil, some paper and told me to sit in a closet and write.
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