Piper took a deep, gasping breath. “Oh no.”
Beatrice carefully approached the woman, who was lying on her stomach on the floor. With a shaking hand, she felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.
“I’m afraid she’s gone,” said Beatrice grimly.
Piper pulled her phone out and started dialing Ramsay’s number. Ramsay was the local police chief and Beatrice’s friend, Meadow’s, husband.
While Piper quietly reported the crime, Beatrice glanced around the brand-new studio. It looked as if Summer had been hit from behind with the hot-pink ten-pound hand weight that was next to her.
Piper ended the conversation and said, “Mama, Ramsay asked if we could wait for him outside the studio.”
They quickly moved outside without touching anything but the doorknob, which they used a tissue to grip.
It didn
