Murder for Choir

by Joelle Charbonneau

  “He didn’t call me. I saw him at the police station. He’s trying to get a hold of his parents.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “They’re in Maine. Eric was supposed to go with them.”

  “But he wanted to come to camp. He told me.”

  “I wanted him to come to camp,” Chessie corrected. “Eric wanted to go fishing with his dad. This is my senior year. I want to do better than place fifth. Eric’s a great singer, but he has some trouble dancing. He needs all the help he can get.”

  Yikes. The guy was sitting in jail, and his girlfriend was dissing his moves. Not cool.

  Chessie seemed to read my mind. “Someone like you wouldn’t understand.” She gave me a hard stare. “Our choir has to be way better than the others even to have a shot at winning. If it weren’t for Mr. DeWeese, we would have won last year. He doesn’t know how to play the game.”

  “What game?”

  Chessie brushed a lock of dark hair out of her face and let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, Mr. DeWeese is a nice guy and a pretty good teacher, but he doesn’t do the things he needs to do to get us to the top. Mr. Lucas might have been a creep, but he was on the Regional Performance Choir Board. He made a point of knowing the judges. He got his team an advantage by any means possible.”

  I wasn’t sure what was creepier—Greg Lucas hitting on Chessie or her admiration for his schmoozing skills.

  “It sounds like you know a lot about Mr. Lucas.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Could you tell me about him?” Her eyes filled with suspicion, and I rushed to say, “I guess I feel bad that I don’t even know if he has a wife or kids. After all, I was the one who found him dead. You know?”

  Chessie’s mouth formed a surprised circle. Clearly, she didn’t know. After a moment, she said, “He got divorced last year. Everyone on the competition circuit was talking about it. His wife said he was having an affair. I’m betting it was with one of the judges from the Midwest Invitational. His choir had huge pitch issues, and they still took first. Now that he’s dead, we might actually have a shot at winning.” She sighed. “Too bad.”

  “Too bad what?”

  “We could win if we had a real coach.” She gave me a saccharine smile. “Instead, we’re stuck with you.” With that, she flounced back into the house and slammed the door behind her.

  With no camp the next day, I was free to rethink my strategy for getting the kids on my side. Chessie hadn’t been impressed by my willingness to help her boyfriend. Maybe once he was sprung, she’d feel differently.

  I got dressed and headed down to the kitchen, hoping to find Aunt Millie. Otherwise, I might not eat. The last two days, Millie had left the house before I headed for sustenance. Both days, I’d found Killer sitting in front of the refrigerator. The minute I tried to go for the milk, he growled and snapped. Food wasn’t worth losing an arm for. Especially not Aunt Millie’s food.

  Thank goodness my aunt was in the kitchen. Killer was nowhere in sight. Aunt Millie turned her perfectly lacquered head and smiled over her coffee cup.

  I poured myself a large mug of coffee, snagged a bagel from the cupboard, and sat down at the counter. “I took your advice.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Millie’s eyes gleamed. “Jackie Mitchell swears you’ll meet the man of your dreams if you just give the service a chance.”

  I groaned. “Not that advice.” Aunt Millie had been happily unmarried all of her life, but that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for matchmaking.

  “Oh. You’re getting highlights.”

  “No. My student, Eric Metz, asked me to tell his girlfriend that he was okay. I did and decided to ask her some questions about the murdered director.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Turns out Greg Lucas had an affair and got divorced.” I took a swig of coffee to fortify myself and added, “My star performer also thinks my presence sabotages any chance the team has at winning this year.”

  Millie put her cup on the counter with a thud. “Your student clearly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.”

  “She might be right,” I admitted. I’d come to that conclusion before falling asleep. “Greg Lucas was a decent director, but his real skill was networking with the show choir judges.”

  Networking was not one of my strengths, something my agent constantly pointed out to me. Talent was a great thing, but only if someone in a position of authority noticed it. I didn’t want to be noticed because of who I knew. I wanted to make it to the top because of my talent, which was probably part of the reason I was directing show choir instead of touring Europe.

  Aunt Millie shrugged off my concern. “You’re new. The judges won’t expect you to know their kids’ names and take them to dinner. I bet they’ll be watching your team more closely because a director they don’t know is in charge. In my book, that’s an advantage.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “It’s my experience that people who make lots of friends also make lots of enemies.” Millie gulped down the rest of her coffee and straightened her glasses. “An angry ex-wife is probably the tip of the iceberg. I have to run to a meeting. See you at dinner. I saw a new recipe on television that I’m dying to try.”

  Oh goody. Something to look forward to.

  My phone rang as I popped the last of the bagel into my mouth. Larry. I chewed, swallowed, and answered the phone just as it went to voice mail. Damn. I hit redial.

  “Paige. Good, I’m glad I caught you.” Larry sounded a bit tired but upbeat. “Some of us are getting together to plot strategy. Greg’s death is a tragedy, but it does open up the field for this year’s competitions. We don’t want to miss that opportunity.”

  I assured Larry I would meet them at ten. Hanging up, I couldn’t help but wonder if the murderer had just that opportunity in mind while hitting Greg on the head with a microphone and wrapping the cord around his neck.

  An hour later I parallel parked my blue Cobalt in front of Armanti’s Bakery and Coffee shop. The place was located on the corner of Lake and Main, right in the heart of the recently refurbished downtown Prospect Glen. The shops, eateries, and public buildings were all a combination of red brick and white paint with large oak wood signs. Except for Armanti’s. Its door was green, the shutters were painted red, and the sign blinked a combination of red, green, and white.

  The inside was a lot like the outside—all Italian. Statues, paintings, Italian flags, and maps covered every inch of wall space. A large fountain that looked a lot like a converted birdbath sat in the middle of the café. Larry waved at me from a table in the back. I waved and headed over to join him and a beaming Felicia.

  “Paige, I’m so glad you could make it,” she gushed as I sat down. “Larry told me you spent some time in Italy, so I suggested we come here. I thought the atmosphere would make you feel more at ease.”

  How anyone could feel at ease with naked stone cherub butts pointed at them was beyond me. Still, I appreciated the gesture if not the décor.

  “Why don’t you get yourself some coffee or a snack while we wait for our fourth to arrive? The raspberry scones are worth the extra round at the gym. Trust me.”

  “Someone else is coming?” I asked. The three of us were the only ones who had represented Prospect Glen High at show choir camp.

  “Our drama teacher, Devlyn O’Shea.” Larry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “He choreographs all the musicals. We thought he might be able to help with the show choir this year.”

  I tried not to take that as a knock on my choreographing abilities and failed. Plastering a smile on my face, I excused myself from the table and got a large latte with extra whipped cream and a cinnamon roll. I was bolstering my bruised ego with sugar and fat. Sue me.

  Taking a hit of coffee, I headed back across the room. Larry was gesturing wildly. Felicia’s eyes flashed as she said something back. Larry’s neck turned bright red. This was not a happy conve
rsation. Felicia opened her mouth to say something else and spotted me. “The cinnamon rolls here are fabulous. Good choice.”

  I sat down and looked from Larry to Felicia. He was looking like someone had drop-kicked his puppy. She was giving me a cheesy smile. Something was up.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  Felicia looked down at her hands. Larry’s ears turned redder than his neck. “I was just telling Felicia about Eric. She was upset we couldn’t do more to help him.”

  “Did you get in touch with his parents?”

  “They’re driving back.”

  Maine had to be at least twelve hundred miles away from our small Chicago suburb. I did the mental math. With stops for food and gas, Eric’s parents might be here by tomorrow. “Is Eric still in jail?”

  “I think the detective was going to let him go home.” Larry shrugged, then smiled as he spotted someone behind me. I turned to see a dark-haired man walking through the front door. The man was dressed in gray slacks, a powder-blue-and-violet-striped shirt, and white suspenders. Despite the plethora of pastel, he managed to ooze sex appeal. The guy looked around the room, smiled, and walked over to our table. Wow. Maybe allowing the drama teacher to help me choreograph wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Sorry I’m late, kids,” he said, standing to my left. I looked up at him and smiled. His features were too angular to be called traditionally handsome, and his nose was slanted a bit to the left. He also had a bruise over his left eye. Yet, something about the way the pieces fit together made him the most attractive guy I’d met in years.

  “Hi. I’m Paige.” Was I witty or what?

  “Devlyn.” The man walked around the table to take the seat opposite mine. “How are you holding up? I heard you were the unfortunate soul who found Greg’s body.”

  Finding a dead body wasn’t the claim to fame I was looking for, so I just nodded and asked, “Did you know Greg?”

  “I choreographed North Shore High School’s musical last year. Greg was the music director.”

  “Devlyn did an amazing job.” Felicia put her hand on Devlyn’s arm and giggled. “I have no idea how you taught those kids to dance like that in only seven weeks.”

  Damn. Devlyn had to be the guy Felicia was dating.

  Or maybe not. He gently shrugged off her hand and leaned back in his chair. “It’s easy to teach kids who are willing to put in the work. I’m excited to work with our show choir. Music in Motion is a great group.”

  I blinked, then remembered. Music in Motion was the name of the top show choir. My show choir.

  “And this year we have a real chance at taking first,” Larry declared. “Which is why we’re all here. Let’s talk strategy.”

  An hour later, we had a list of songs—all songs I’d already decided on—ready to go. Devlyn proved to be an unexpected ally. Whenever Larry or Felicia suggested a song, he’d take one look at my face and launch into a reason why it was (a) overdone, (b) not quite right, or (c) a surefire audience killer. I ate my cinnamon bun, ordered another cup of coffee, and let Devlyn fight my battles for me.

  “This is the first time in years we have a real shot at winning.” Larry’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “We just need to hold auditions for the one open slot, and we’ll be ready to go.”

  “What open slot?” Auditions had taken place in the spring before I was hired, and all the kids on the cast list were at camp this week.

  Larry let out a sad sigh. “Eric’s position needs to be filled.”

  “Why?”

  Felicia looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. “He’s in jail. I don’t think the police will let him out to compete.”

  Duh. Still. “Replacing him before he’s even charged makes it look like we think he’s guilty.”

  Felicia and Larry looked concerned but resolved.

  Devlyn looked pissed. “Paige is right. I know Eric. He didn’t murder Greg. Kicking him out of the choir before school even starts will send the wrong message.”

  Larry tilted his head and closed his eyes while he considered Devlyn’s advice. Nodding, he opened his eyes and said, “I don’t want to lose Eric. He’s the best tenor we have, and he’s a good kid. But the district rules say a student has to be in school on the first week of class to participate in extracurricular activities for that semester.” He crumpled up his cup and sighed. “I don’t see any way around the rules. If Eric is still in jail by then, we’ll have to replace him.”

  Shoulders drooping, Larry got up and stalked over to the garbage can. He pitched his cup and disappeared out the front door.

  “Is he right?” I looked to Devlyn for confirmation.

  He let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid so. A couple years back, we had a lot of students showing up for class several weeks into the school year because of late summer vacations. The school board created that rule to crack down on the problem.”

  “They won’t make an exception,” Felicia added. “And even if he’s not in jail, the school board might not let him attend school. They have the right to remove disruptive influences from the classroom. A potential murderer would definitely be disruptive.”

  Well, crap.

  Felicia gave my hand a squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but you need to start thinking about a replacement. The fall concert is only eight weeks away. Parents, alums, and our school board will be expecting your best. If they don’t see it…” She shrugged. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

  Um, yikes.

  Felicia smiled at Devlyn and dug into her purse. “I have to go, but here’s that number I promised you. Richard is smart, sexy, and an incredible artist. The two of you would be great together.”

  The cinnamon bun sat like lead in my stomach. As far as I could tell, Eric had to get himself cleared of all charges or his senior year, perhaps his entire future, was screwed. And to top it off, the sexiest man I’d met in years just turned out to be gay. This day couldn’t get any worse.

  I was wrong.

  “What do you think?” Aunt Millie beamed.

  Two black poodles, a pair of pugs, and a brown-and-white border collie sat motionless in the middle of Millie’s perfectly decorated living room. They watched me with their beady glass eyes as I tried not to panic.

  My aunt didn’t notice. “Aren’t they fabulous?”

  Fabulous? No. Horrific? Hell yes.

  Killer cowered against the cream-colored sofa and whined. For the first time Killer and I were in agreement. These things were scary.

  “They certainly look lifelike.” It was the best I could come up with. Taxidermied dogs complete with sparkly collars and permanent-pressed fur weren’t my thing.

  Millie patted the top of the border collie’s head. The collie was in a seated position looking upward as though waiting for a treat. “Romeo was a champion show dog. Took best of breed at twenty-four shows and best in show seven times.”

  Oh God. Romeo had been one of Millie’s dogs when I was in high school. Romeo loved car rides, playing fetch, and me. And now he was stuffed with sawdust.

  “Where did they come from?” The thought of Millie digging up Romeo and friends was more than my nerves could take.

  Killer whined again. I couldn’t blame him. Seeing what would become of me after I died would creep me out, too.

  Millie leaned over and scratched him. “I’ve had all my dogs in cold storage along with my furs. I figured it was time to trot them out. They liven up the place, don’t you think?”

  My aunt really didn’t want to know what I thought. “I remember Romeo and Bonnie and Clyde.” The two pugs had loved running in circles when I came home from college to visit. “But who are the poodles?”

  “Those are LouAnne Gill’s dogs. She loved the idea of keeping her friends with her after they passed, but she got heart palpitations when they were delivered to the house. I had to rescue them before LouAnne threw them in the garbage. You don’t throw two grand champion dogs away like that.”

 
I would argue that you don’t sit them in your living room to collect dust, either, but what did I know?

  Aunt Millie squinted behind her pink glasses. “Now, I need to find the best rooms to put them in. Do you want to help?”

  My cell rang. I dove into my purse for it and flipped it open as Millie picked up one of the poodles.

  “Hi, Paige,” Devlyn’s rich voice greeted me. “You left in such a hurry. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  The combo of Eric’s impending doom, Devlyn’s preferred dating choice, and the tacky décor had me up and out of the coffee shop moments after Felicia’s departure. “Thinking about Eric got me down,” I said, watching my aunt haul the poodle up the stairs to the second floor. “But I’m fine. Honest.”

  “Glad to hear it. So, I was wondering if you’d like to get together today. We could start setting the choreography. The more we do, the less chance there is of Larry trying to help. His help might not be the kind we’re looking for.”

  “You don’t like Larry?”

  He chuckled. “Larry’s a great guy, but have you seen him dance?”

  “Gotcha.” I laughed and felt the need to confess, “Dance isn’t my strongest area, either.”

  My aunt trotted down the stairs without the poodle as Devlyn said, “I’ve seen some of the shows you were in. Trust me, you’ll do just fine. So what do you say? Do you have some time this afternoon?”

  My aunt picked up the second poodle and headed for the kitchen as I asked, “Can you do it now?”

  I walked into the Prospect Glen High School choir room trying to ignore the icky feeling in my stomach. Just down the hall was the auditorium. A place filled with dead-guy cooties.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Devlyn appeared from the storage closet. He’d changed clothes. Now he was wearing a fitted pink T-shirt and a pair of off-white workout shorts. In one hand, he held a CD player. A top hat was in the other.

  I nodded, trying not to notice how sexy Devlyn looked in pink. “I thought the cops had shut down the school.”