Tutus, Fries & Dead Guys

By Jennifer Fischetto

From USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Fischetto comes the next hauntingly entertaining Gianna Mancini mystery!

Ghost whisperer, Gianna Mancini, has been communicating with the dearly departed since she was a child. It’s been a lonely gift that she’s kept hidden from everyone other than family and a few close friends. As far as the rest of the world knows, ghosts aren’t real.

Until now...

When dance instructor, Nadia Petrov, is killed and falls into a mirror during her collapse, her spirit seeps into the glass and can be seen by anyone who passes. Much like Bloody Mary, she jumps from mirror to mirror, but unlike the urban legend, Nadia delights in scaring and then cackling at those unfortunate enough to be around—earning her new nickname, Screama Ballerina.

Gianna has no intention of getting involved in solving Nadia’s death until the police question Gianna’s fifteen-year-old niece, who’s clearly lying about something. Now, Gianna must figure out who had it in for the controlling dancer in order to clear her niece’s name and help Screama Ballerina move on. But the killer will stop at nothing to shut Gianna up for good...

Gianna Mancini Mysteries:
Lipstick, Lies & Dead Guys (book #1)
Miniskirts, Mai Tais & Dead Guys (book #2)
Cupcakes, Butterflies & Dead Guys (book #3)
Stilettos, Bow Ties & Dead Guys (book #4)
Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys (book #5)
Ghosts, Private Eyes & Dead Guys (book #6)
Balloons, Allies & Dead Guys (book #7)
Tutus, Fries & Dead Guys (book #8)
Christmas, Spies & Dead Guys (short story in the "Cozy Christmas Shorts" collection)

What critics are saying about the Gianna Mancini Mysteries:

"Quirky but oh so fun cozy mystery. If you like your cozy mysteries on the humorous side, then look no further!"
—Fresh Fiction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005461652

Jennifer Fischetto

Jennifer Fischetto is the USA TODAY Bestselling author of the Gianna Mancini paranormal cozy mystery series, as well as a dozen other titles. She writes family-centric murder mysteries and things that go bump in the night.A lover of rainstorms and snow, she prefers fiction over reality and longs to live in a world where French fries grow on trees, chocolate appears whenever desired, and every day is October. She watches too much television and movies, which fuel her never-ending supply of plot ideas, and is a rabid fan of suspense, horror, and everything supernatural.You can learn about her next book by subscribing to her newsletter at https://jenniferfischetto.com/newsletter/

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Since when is Alice into dance? I ask my sister, Izzie, as we sit on the lowest bleacher in Toni's Steps dance studio.

Situated between a laundromat and a small, local insurance company, in a one-story brick building, this studio looks much smaller from the outside. Now that I'm seated, I realize it has two side-by-side dance rooms, this waiting area for the parents, restrooms by the front door, and each dance room has an archway that probably leads to dressing rooms, more bathrooms, and an office. The second dance room, the one Alice is in, is larger than the other. Both are lined in floor-to-ceiling mirrors, except for the wall that faces the waiting area. That is all glass so we can watch. It's a nifty setup.

Izzie juts her chin toward a boy with pale hair and skin, stretching along the far barre in the bigger room. My daughter has become obsessed with this place since she took a free class with her friend Kaisley and discovered that he attends. Mischa Petrova-Ford. He's the son of one of the dance teachers.

Oh, so my fifteen-year-old niece has a crush. This isn't her first. There was Raul before Mischa. I wonder why her gaze traveled. Poor Raul. Maybe it has something to do with how limber Mischa is. Does the boy own any bones?

The other dance room, which is closest to the front door, has six kids in there—all of them under ten. Their parents must be the six women seated on the other end of the bleachers.

The glass front door opens, and a short, squat woman with a black, chin-length bob walks in. She's wearing a tailored navy skirt, sleeveless blouse, shiny pumps that have to be at least four inches in height, and enough lip gloss to slick a runway.

Izzie leans into me. My nephew, Giovanni, is on her lap. He giggles with the movement. That's Muffy. She's Danica's mother.

There are only four teen dancers warming up, and my niece, her BFF Kaisley, and Mischa, the only boy in the group, are three of them. I assume Danica is the other one there—the brunette in a black leotard—but I'm not sure. I also don't care. I'm only here today because Izzie and I were still working when it came time for her to bring Alice to class, and tagging along sounded better than going home and eating dinner in front of my TV. Plus Izzie promised me dinner afterwards. I rarely say no to free food.

Muffy has stopped to chat with one of the other moms, so my sister quickly says, Danica is the lithe brunette with the grace of a prima ballerina. She's the lead pupil. The favorite. She gets all of the solos at the competitions, and the other girls secretly hate her for it.

Like I assumed, she's the other girl in the room.

Izzie cocks her head. I made up that last part. I don't really know. I'd hate her though.

I softly chuckle and shake my head.

Izzie took dance from elementary school through junior high, and then when boys became interested in her, she was suddenly no longer interested in pirouettes. She didn't push Alice into it, but she allowed her to take a class here and there when younger. My niece didn't show interest before now.

Muffy? I ask, wondering if it's a nickname.

Izzie just shrugs, not offering me an answer.

The door opens again, and this time a petite, light auburn–haired girl in a baby pink leotard and matching shorts walks in. She's clearly several years younger than Danica, and the strawberry blonde woman beside her is dressed in skinny jeans, a bright pink leather jacket, and a leopard-print shirt beneath.

I start to sweat just looking at her. It's summer, and the rest of us are wearing shorts and skirts, short sleeves or sleeveless, and here is this woman in a leather jacket. Does she not have sweat glands? Is that even a thing? If so, imagine the money I could save from powder alone. I dislike chafing.

Izzie leans into me again. The mom is Bambi, and her daughter is Sari. Cute kid, vapid mom. She's always talking about someone. Telling us everyone's life story. Very chatty. A total gossip.

I smirk and hold back laughter. I'm glad I'm not sitting next to her.

Izzie looks at me and widens her eyes. Right?

My joking reference is lost on my sister.

The next mom to enter, I recognize. Kaisley's mother Kitty is a bleached blonde who's always dressed in athletic wear. At least every time I've seen her, which isn't much, but right now, she's got on a light blue and gray ensemble. Kaisley was with Alice at Izzie's house when she picked them up. It's summer vacation, and according to my sister, the two girls have been inseparable since the last day of freshman year.

Sari runs ahead of her mom, who is with the other women, and tosses a pastel pink backpack at the bleachers. It misses the seat and falls behind it. Sari pays no attention and yanks the glass door to the dance room open.

Even though the kids in there aren't talking much, it's apparent the rooms are soundproof. There's some soft music that I can't hear when the door shuts. It makes sense with the two rooms being next to each other.

On second look, the backpack is covered in hand-drawn graffiti in different color markers. Sari Donaldson and a tiny heart. Other girl names, whom I assume are friends. Some singers and bands. Pepperoni pizza, sushi, and cupcakes are probably her favorite foods. And there are several dance terms too, like pointe, grand jete, and others that look French but I'm not sure how they're pronounced. There's one that makes me frown. Peelay. Oh, she must mean plié, which is a dance move where your knees are bent. I enjoy the occasional dance competition on TV—fictional and so-called reality—so I'm familiar with some of the terms.

The three moms finally come over and greet Izzie with big smiles. She and Kitty share a quick, somewhat distant hug. They've known each other since their girls were in kindergarten, but their relationship isn't super close. Kitty and Kaisley have never been over for holidays. Kaisley has been at Ma and Pop's during some cookouts, but only when she's spending the night with Alice. Kitty is a stranger to me.

This is my sister, Gianna, Izzie says.

I give a small wave and stay seated.

Oh, is the baby named after your sister? The one in the animal print asks. I think Izzie said her name is Bambi.

Izzie shakes her head. No, they're similar sounding, but we just like the name.

Bambi nods slowly. It's cute. So Italian.

Muffy rolls her eyes and sits down. Izzie returns to her seat without responding. She glances at me as the other two get settled. I can't help but smirk. People ask that a lot when I'm with her. Gianna and Giovanni are more similar than I realized when Izzie and her husband, Paulie, first named my nephew. Not that I'd mind sharing a name with the ball of squishiness.

A woman enters Alice's dance room from the archway. Tall, lean but muscular, and brown hair slicked back into a bun. She wears a beige leotard that almost matches her skin tone and a pink tutu. A ballerina?

Who's that? I ask.

Nadia Petrova. The lead teacher. Except for Toni, who owns the place, but she doesn't teach much these days. And the other instructor is Rachel. She's new to the studio. Only been here a couple of years.

For someone who only recently started bringing Alice here, Izzie knows a lot.

Rachel's with the smaller kids. Nadia is really skilled, and her routines always win awards.

Wow. Impressive.

Nadia claps, calling the teens' attention, and tells them something. Then they line up and begin practice.

I wish I could hear the music. It would probably give the movements more power. I'm clueless as to what they're doing exactly, but it seems pretty.

Ten minutes in and the other class gets out. Twelve little feet pitter patter to their parents, and the teacher, Rachel—a young brunette in a light blue leotard and gray shorts—walks out of the room carrying a black purse and a set of keys. She waves to the kids and leaves the school.

I bring my attention back to Alice. She knows the moves, but she's not as graceful as the other girls. That doesn't surprise me since she's only recently started. I am surprised, however, that she's in the same group as the others, who clearly have been dancing for years. I'll find a way to ask Izzie why when we're alone.

When class ends, the kids look like they want to collapse. The teacher pushed them, having to repeat the same moves over and over again. And then they did the entire routine from start to finish several times on top of that. They must be exhausted. They're all shiny and sweaty. Eww!

Before they leave though, Nadia is talking to them again. Not sure what she's saying, but their body language is expressive.

This is it, Muffy says and leans closer to the room, as if she can hear through the glass door and wall.

The other two mothers perk up too.

What's going on? I ask Izzie.

Nadia's announcing who gets the solo, Muffy says.

Bambi and Kitty both roll their eyes.

There's a competition coming up, and one dancer gets to perform by herself. Nadia is scheduled to tell them who tonight, Izzie explains.

Oh, so that's why everyone seems so intense. Iz said earlier that Danica always gets the solo, and that must be why the other moms look annoyed.

Alice and Kaisley exchange bewildered looks.

Danica lowers her head and stares at the polished floor.

What's going on? Muffy asks and stands up, obviously sensing something is wrong from the way her daughter looks defeated.

Sari looks like she wants to jump into the air. The tiny girl plummets toward the door, pushes through, and runs to her mother. I got the solo!

Bambi looks as shocked as everyone else, but her expression quickly changes to excitement. Really? Oh, um, of course you did. You deserve it, baby girl.

Muffy charges into the dance room in her four-inch pumps. I don't know anything about dance school etiquette, but I wonder if heels are allowed there.

What the he… all I hear before the door shuts behind her.

Muffy stomps over to Nadia, her shoulders hunched forward. She gets right in her face, and her mouth moves fast.

Mischa says something to Alice and Kaisley, but the three of them keep glancing at the two women too.

Danica steps closer to her mother and teacher but not too close. Poor kid.

Bambi tells her daughter, Let's get out of here before they're done.

But… Sari obviously wants to stay, but Bambi has already retrieved Sari's backpack and is walking toward the door.

Let's go celebrate. Bambi waves her daughter on.

Okay! Sari skips out of the studio.

This may take a while, Kitty says and glances at her phone. And I do not want to interrupt them. They'll likely blow my head off for no reason. It's happened before.

I have no idea what she's talking about, but it doesn't sound good, which is probably why Izzie remains seated and doesn't tell Alice to come on.

Mischa heads under the archway out of sight, and Kaisley and Alice walk toward us.

Good, Izzie whispers to herself and collects her and Giovanni's things.

I don't care what you promised. You make it right, Muffy shouts when Alice pushes the door open. Danica deserves the part more than that sniveling—

I raise a brow and almost wish the door had stayed open. Is Muffy talking about Sari? She has to be, but I'm stunned she's referring to another child that way, especially with the other kids listening. It's a good thing Sari and Bambi already left.

Kaisley doesn't walk out with Alice. She runs back to the far wall to grab her phone.

Izzie tells Alice to get her things, and they head toward the front door. No one else is paying attention to Muffy and Nadia's argument. I'm the only one, and it all feels incredibly bizarre.

I linger behind because I'm curious and want to hear what else is said when Kaisley exits the room. Is this behavior so ordinary that they've lost interest, or are they trying to not gawk and stare like I am?

Here Kaisley comes.

Muffy stabs the air with her index finger an inch from Nadia's face. If someone did that to me, I'd back up, but Nadia just stands there with her arms crossed over her chest. It doesn't look like she cares that Muffy is being rude and yelling at her.

Is this normal behavior?

Kaisley opens the door, and Muffy shouts, Danica gets this part or else.

Or else what?

CHAPTER TWO

When I step outside, the sun is setting behind the buildings. The horizon looks like a watercolor painting with large strokes of orange and purple blended into the darkening sky. It's breathtaking, but instead of heading to my car (Izzie and I rode here separately), I realize everyone is still here.

Bambi and Sari are standing on the sidewalk, in front of the studio, with Kitty, Kaisley, Izzie, Giovanni, and Alice. It doesn't look like any of them are in a rush to get to their cars.

What are you doing? I ask my sister.

She looks confused for a moment. It may be due to my nephew trying to wiggle out of her embrace. He's almost walking without holding on to objects. If she puts him down, he'll likely find his legs and dash across the parking lot. It's only a matter of minutes before she gets frustrated and they leave. I've seen it when we're out before. I don't blame her. He can be a worm when he really wants to get down.

Muffy and Danica emerge from the studio, and Muffy looks crossed. Like literally. Her brows, her arms, even her pursed lips seem to be crossed. She glares at Bambi, not Sari, as if the leopard-print woman had anything to do with this.

Don't be so upset, Muff, Bambi says in a singsong tone. You've been saying for years how the best dancer gets the lead.

Danica walks over to a four-door navy SUV and stands by the passenger door.

Muffy's nostrils flare. You know darn well that Sari is years behind Danica. You did something. You got Nadia to change her mind.

Sari leans against the building, her long strawberry blonde hair now out of its ponytail hiding most of her expression. But from her slumped shoulders and the way she's staring at the cement, I assume she's not feeling too good right now.

Bambi places a hand on her hip and scrunches up her face into a scowl. How dare you insinuate—

There's no insinuation going on. I'm flat out saying that your kid isn't a great dancer, and she in no way deserves the solo.

Everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Sari wipes her cheek, and I know she's crying. Poor kid. Gosh, I feel awful for her. I want to tell Muffy to shut up, but this isn't my place. These women aren't my friends or even acquaintances. I don't need to get involved and possibly cause issues for my sister and niece down the road.

We have to go, Izzie says and calls for Alice, who is behind me with Kaisley.

We step closer to the girls, while Muffy and Bambi are yelling at each other.

Mom, let's go, Danica shouts from the car. Her mother doesn't pay her any attention.

I want to stay with Kaisley, Alice says. Can I hang with her?

Kaisley is scrolling on her phone, and Kitty is watching the other moms.

Giovanni wiggles more, and his face starts to turn pink. Soon it'll be a shade of red, and he'll be louder than the moms. He has amazing lungs.

Do you mind? Izzie asks Kitty, who seems to only be paying half attention.

What? No, the girls can hang out, Kitty says.

Alice squeals in delight. Kaisley smiles, but her attention is still on her phone.

Well, we're out of here, then, Izzie says and takes a step off the sidewalk and onto the pavement. She stops and looks back at her daughter. Don't forget curfew, and I don't want you walking home in the dark. Call me if you need a ride.

Alice nods, still grinning and showing all of her teeth. Those girls hang out all of the time, so I don't know why she's acting like they never see each other. According to her and Izzie, Alice practically lives at Kaisley's during the summer. They have an inground pool, and Kitty doesn't supervise the way Izzie does. Which means the girls have total freedom when they're not with my sister.

Kitty glances at her phone as if checking the time. Us too. Come on, girls.

I walk with them over to the line of parked cars, but I keep looking back at Muffy, Bambi, and poor Sari. Is this the end of it, or will it escalate? Part of me wants to stay and see, but I figure that would be rude.

I follow Izzie back to her house, and while I wonder what we're going to eat, I can't fully get my mind off of what just happened. I'm having a hard time processing that the other moms' behavior is normal, but it has to be since no one else seemed surprised by it. I have a ton of questions for my sister.

We reach Izzie and Paulie's two-story colonial home, which is in the East End side of town, and I park on the street as she pulls into the driveway.

I grab Giovanni's diaper bag from her as she wrestles with the keys at the front door. When we enter the dim and cool interior, she lets out a deep sigh and puts Giovanni in his playpen. She then drops her bags and collapses onto the sofa.

Don't worry. I will order food soon. I just need a moment before I change his diaper, get his dinner, bathe him, and maybe manage to eat myself.

I can help, I say.

She lets out a happy sigh. That would be great.

I sit beside her and ask, So are those moms always like that?

She chuckles. You mean loud and arguing? Yes. I was as shocked as you look when I first started taking Alice. Kitty says that Muffy and Bambi have been like that for years, but sometimes Kitty plays along with them, even eggs them on. I think she enjoys it. Until it's directed at her kid.

Wow, this whole Mean Mommy mentality blows my mind.

What about Alice? Have they said anything about her? I ask.

Izzie's brows immediately draw together and her jaw clenches. Oh heck no. I wouldn't stand for that, and I wouldn't play their games either.

I chuckle and smile at my nephew, who giggles in response. I'm sure you wouldn't, Mama Bear.

My stomach growls loud enough for Izzie to hear and raise a brow.

What are we eating tonight? I ask and laugh some more.

You tell me. I asked, but you didn't reply.

I'm confused. When did I miss a conversation about yummy food? What are you talking about?

I texted you on the ride here, she says.

Oh, I didn't hear my phone go off. I pat my pocket. It's empty. I must've left my phone in the car. But as I think back, I realize the last place I saw it was on the bleachers. Crap.

I tell Izzie that I'll be back and fly out the door. Back in my silver Kia, I race to the studio. Hopefully it's