“No. I thought he was going to. Then he got a text message from someone. He freaked out and said he wanted me to drive him home.”
Uh-oh. The text was probably from the self-appointed neighborhood watch. I checked my cell. No missed calls. If Larry was annoyed about my visit, he probably would have said something.
I finished my meal and took another sip of my margarita, trying not to be depressed at the lack of progress in my investigation. “So the night was a bust.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?” What had I missed?
He grinned. “Any night that allows me to bully someone into eating my favorite meal isn’t a bust.” Before I could refute that, he took out his wallet and laid cash on the table. “Come on. We still have work to do.”
“What kind of work?”
“I promised to buy you dinner if we got some more choreography done.” He slid out of the booth and pulled me out.
“We just ate. Isn’t there a rule about not dancing until at least an hour after you finish eating?”
“That’s swimming, and scientists have proven that to be a myth.” He marched me to the door, only stopping once—to give our waiter a hug. I wondered if the waiter was the mysterious love interest as I climbed into Devlyn’s car.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “Don’t they have rules about how late faculty members can be at school before classes start?” I was pretty sure I’d read that in the handbook.
He nodded. “You’re right.” I smiled. “Which is why we aren’t going there.”
Devlyn didn’t offer any other hints as to our destination. He just gave me a mysterious smile and turned his eyes to the road. I closed my eyes and tried to decide what to do next. If Larry wouldn’t spill his guts to Devlyn while under the influence, he certainly wouldn’t talk to me. Inspiration failed to strike as the car slowed and Devlyn turned off the ignition.
I opened my eyes. “We’re at Aunt Millie’s house. Why? Did you forget something?”
He laughed and opened his door. “I noticed a lack of furniture in the living room. As long as your aunt doesn’t object, I figured we could work there.”
I scrambled out of the car after him. The lights were dark in the house. Either Millie had gone out or she’d turned in early. After last night’s adventure, I was guessing the latter. Leaving Devlyn leaning against a wall in the living room, I went upstairs to check. Millie snored loudly as I pushed open her door. The taxidermied mutts were all in the circle I’d placed them in earlier, looking very much like they were holding a séance. Killer was nowhere to be seen.
Hustling back down stairs, I shook my head at Devlyn. “She’d out cold. Guess we can’t dance. Darn.”
“That’s a shame. The plush carpet would have been a lot softer to land on than linoleum.”
“You were planning on dropping me again?”
“I like contingencies.” He pushed away from the wall and walked over to me. “Got any ideas for some activities that won’t wake your aunt?”
I knew Devlyn didn’t intend his comment to have a sexual undertone, but I couldn’t help the delicious shiver that zipped through my body. Ignoring it, I said, “Scrabble?”
He took a step closer. “I suck at spelling. Try again.”
“We could watch TV.”
“I guess we could do that.” He edged in closer.
Suddenly, I heard bells and not the wow-I’m-excited-a-hot-guy-is-making-his-move bells. Real bells.
Devlyn took a step back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He hit a button and held the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Larry. Are you okay?”
From the stunned look on Devlyn’s face, I would say Larry was far from okay.
The police were at Larry’s house. And they had a warrant.
Devlyn made it to Larry’s place in nine minutes. Three sets of red-and-blue lights lit up the street in front of the house, and uniformed cops with flashlights were crawling inside and around Larry’s car. Larry was standing at the bottom of the driveway looking like he was going to cry. Detective Mike was standing next to him. The minute the detective saw Devlyn and me approach, he sighed. Or maybe it was just me that elicited the reaction. Hard to tell.
“Are you okay, Larry?” Devlyn asked, giving Larry’s shoulder a pat. Larry had been almost incoherent on the phone. Devlyn had been able to make out the words “cops” and “warrant” and almost nothing else.
Larry shook his head and bit his lip. He looked shell-shocked. “The police showed up after you left with a warrant to search my car. Why do they need to search my car?” He held out a folded piece of paper.
Devlyn took the paper and squinted to read it by cop-car light. “I don’t know.”
Devlyn and Larry moved closer to one of the cop cars so Devlyn could see better.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I jumped at Detective Mike’s voice. “Larry was upset by the warrant so Devlyn and I came over to check on him.”
“I didn’t think you and Larry were good enough friends for you to visit twice in one day.”
The one-woman neighborhood watch was standing on her front porch, viewing the festivities. No doubt she’d already reported the details of my earlier stop.
“He’s my boss,” I said.
“An anonymous tip claims he’s also Greg Lucas’s murderer and that something in his car will prove it.” Detective Mike’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. Swallowing hard, I glanced down the street. My favorite neighborhood busybody was sporting a pair of binoculars. Crap. The detective knew I’d been in the car earlier.
The pitch pipe suddenly felt huge and bulky in my pocket. That couldn’t be what the cops were looking for. Could it? “I didn’t see anything incriminating in the car when I was here earlier.” Mike gave me a flat stare so I added, “I needed to write Larry a note. He had Post-its in the glove compartment.”
Mike waited for me to keep talking. I put my hands behind my back. No obstruction of justice here. After a moment, he glanced at the team of cops going through the car. One of them shook his head.
Nothing.
Detective Kaiser sighed. “The tip probably came from a kid looking to get even for a bad grade, but I needed to check it out. Do you think my date will understand why I had to cancel?”
He’d broken a date to dig through Larry’s car. Huh. Definitely a reason why a woman wouldn’t want to get involved with a homicide detective, no matter how attractive.
“Sure she will.” I nodded my head up and down. Inside, my head shook side to side. Women hated being stood up no matter what the reason. An early relationship might survive one or two broken dates, but once the excitement of dating a police officer wore off, the cancellations would become annoying. Still, I’d already lied about the important stuff. Why stop there?
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Your left eyebrow twitches when you lie.”
“It does not.” If it did, I was screwed.
He smiled. “Ask Mr. O’Shea. He’ll tell you if I’m wrong. Gotta round up the troops and call my date. She said she’d be waiting by the phone.” He turned and walked up the driveway toward the car. Touching my left eyebrow, I walked over to the other side of the street where Larry and Devlyn were sitting on the curb.
“The search was a bust. The cops are packing up and going home.”
Larry squinted up at me and smiled. At least, I think it was a smile. It could have been gas.
“That’s good news.” Devlyn stood and put his hand out to help Larry to his feet. Larry swayed dangerously, and I grabbed his arm to steady him. “Can you help me get him inside? I don’t know if he’s going to make it on his own.”
By the time we half carried, half dragged Larry to the front door, the cops had packed up their toys and headed home. Detective Mike gave me a jaunty wave as he climbed into his Mustang and zoomed off. I opened the front door and held it open as Devlyn navigated Larry into the living
room.
The room looked as though it had been decorated with leftover dorm-room furniture. A gray futon rested in front of the picture window. A large halogen lamp sat on the beige carpet. Two white bookshelves leaned against the far wall. In between them, an enormous television perched on a shiny black stand. Next to the television was a collection of video game systems, controllers, and other accessories. The only non-dorm-room item was a mahogany piano and bench that sat in the back corner of the room.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Larry clapped a hand over his mouth and bolted toward the hallway. An unhappy-looking Devlyn followed behind.
As soon as the two disappeared, I pulled the stolen pitch pipe out of my pocket. If this was what the anonymous tipster had called the police about, I wanted to know why.
I frowned. There was nothing special as far as I could tell. It looked like every other pitch pipe I’d ever seen except the letters identifying the pitches had become a little worn. Clearly, Larry used the thing.
Wait. I flipped the pipe over and spotted some engraving on the back. The engraving had also faded with use. Walking over to the lamp, I held the pipe up to the light and leaned close in an attempt to make out the words.
Thanks, Mr. L. We’ll never forget you. The class of 2003.
Huh. I’d never heard the kids refer to Larry as Mr. L. Then it hit me.
Holy shit. Mr. L wasn’t Larry. Mr. L was Greg Lucas. This was the same pitch pipe Greg had with him in the choir room the day he died.
My first instinct was to wipe the damn thing clean and return it to the car crevice where I found it. Maybe the nosy neighbor had gotten her fill of street patrol and was inside watching Wheel of Fortune. Nope. She was still on her porch clutching her binoculars. Well, hell.
I looked at the pitch pipe, trying to decide what to do next. Turning it over to the cops seemed like an obvious choice, only I’d probably end up in a cell next to Larry. Not exactly my idea of a good time. Besides, something about this anonymous tip to the cops felt wrong.
“Are you okay?”
I jumped and spun around. Devlyn was standing in the living room doorway, wiping his wet hands on his shorts. “I’m thinking.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
I couldn’t deny that. “How’s Larry?”
“Passed out cold on the bathroom floor.”
“Do you think we should move him?”
Devlyn shook his head. “I tried. He refused.”
Huh. I was in Larry’s house, with his approval, and he was unconscious. This was investigative kismet. If God hadn’t wanted me to snoop, he wouldn’t have let Larry drink so much. Okay, that might have had more to do with Devlyn than God, but I was still taking it as a sign.
“What do you have in your hand?”
Oops. I looked down at the shiny object and decided to come clean. “I think this is what the cops were looking for in Larry’s car.”
Devlyn frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I found it when I was searching Larry’s car.”
Devlyn’s eyes narrowed. “When did you search Larry’s car?” His voice sounded calm, but the hand clenching at his side told me not to be fooled.
“Since you were talking to Larry at the bar, I thought that might be a good time to swing by and check out the place. Larry’s car was open so I took a look inside.”
“Weren’t you worried someone might see you?”
I debated telling Devlyn about the woman and her binoculars, and decided against it. Being responsible for apoplexy was probably a good way to lose a friend. “I pretended I was here to visit him. I rang the doorbell and left a sticky note on his door.” I wasn’t a complete amateur, right? “I didn’t take a good look at the pitch pipe until now.”
Devlyn took the pitch pipe from me, looking more interested in strangling me for my foray into breaking and entering than in the object itself. Until he spotted the inscription. He sucked in air, and his eyes met mine. “This belonged to Greg Lucas?”
I nodded.
“How did it end up in Larry’s car?”
Good question. One I really wanted an answer to. “My guess is that whoever killed Greg planted the pitch pipe in between Larry’s car seats. Then the killer called the cops with an anonymous tip to make sure Larry got fingered for the crime.” I waited for Devlyn to be impressed.
Nope. He was back to looking angry. “You stole evidence. You could be arrested for that.”
“Technically, I didn’t know it was evidence when I put it in my pocket.” I was hoping that counted for something.
“You should have turned it over to the cops when they were here.” Devlyn looked a little too close to being pushed over the edge.
“Look,” I said, trying to sound calm and rational. “I promise I’ll turn the pitch pipe over to the cops, but I don’t want Larry to take the rap for a murder unless he actually committed it.”
The tension in Devlyn’s shoulders eased. He blew a lock of dark hair off his forehead and asked, “How do you plan on proving he did or didn’t do it?”
I smiled. “We’re in Larry’s house with his permission. It couldn’t hurt to take a look around while we’re waiting for him to wake up.”
“What are we looking for?”
Not a clue. “I guess we’ll know it when we see it.”
We split up so we could cover more ground. Devlyn took the clean, albeit out-of-date kitchen. Probably a good choice. Devlyn looked like he could use another drink. I headed down the hall to Larry’s bedroom.
Holy cow. The room looked like the closet threw up. Clothes were strewn across the floor, on top of the hamper, and over the unmade bed. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Larry had emptied out the closet in search of the perfect date outfit. An important piece of evidence could be lurking inside this room and no one would ever find it. At least, not the way it looked now. The only way to search was to clean. Lucky me. Picking up my boss’s underwear was definitely not on my top ten list of how to spend a Friday night.
I spotted a large black plastic laundry basket under a pile of shirts at the foot of the bed. Grabbing it, I began sorting clothes. While doing my boss’s laundry was above and beyond the call of duty, it gave me a great excuse to rifle through his pockets. Larry would thank me for keeping stray cash and lip balm from being decimated by the dryer. And who knows, maybe he’d even give me a raise when I explained that I cleaned up so he could have a comfortable space to recover in.
The blacks and colors went into the basket. The whites, which were mostly undershirts and tighty whities, were kicked into a pile near the closet. The only clues in that pile were to questions I didn’t want answered.
By the time I was done, I had seven dollars and twenty-six cents, three paper clips, and two packages of dental floss. Enough to make an arts-and-crafts project and get a cup or two of Starbucks coffee. Not enough to solve the case.
I found the washing machine in the utility room next to the kitchen and squashed in as much as I could. A scoop of detergent and a spin of the dial and I was headed back into Larry’s much tidier bedroom.
The bed was a mess, so I tucked in the sheets and smoothed the comforter. I didn’t really expect to find anything of interest in it, but I figured if Larry ever got up off the floor, he’d appreciate a freshly made bed to sleep in.
Standing next to the bed, I took stock of the room. There was a nightstand with a lamp and an alarm clock sitting on the top. A large dresser stood against the wall behind me, and a television with DVD player was mounted on the wall. I wasn’t the type to keep things stashed in my dresser, so I started with the nightstand drawer. Stephen King books. A bag of cough drops. A couple of notepads with music scribbled on them and…Ick. Judging by the size of the box of condoms, Larry was looking to get really lucky.
Now that I knew Larry used protection, I headed over to the dresser. Just because I didn’t use my sock drawer as a safe-deposit box didn’t mean other people had the same prejudice
. The first drawer had T-shirts and underwear. The second had socks. Lots of socks organized by size and color. If Larry had time to organize his socks into perfect rows, he probably didn’t go on enough dates to warrant the box of condoms in his nightstand. Poor guy.
I was about to close the drawer when a bump in a sock near the back of the drawer caught my attention. Aha. Stuffed inside a black sock was a cassette tape. Putting the tape in my pocket, I sat the sock on top of the dresser. As soon as I found a cassette player and listened to the tape, I’d put it back where I found it.
The next two drawers turned up nothing exciting, so I bopped back down the hall, poking my head into each room and looking for a radio with a cassette player. I found one on the bathroom counter above the rug on which Larry was currently drooling. Reaching over Larry, I snagged the player, bolted down the hall, and ran into the kitchen. Devlyn glanced up from his seat at the farm-style wooden table. Several stacks of papers were spread out in front of him.
“I think I found something.” Triumphant, I placed the radio on an empty spot on the table, slid the tape in, and hit play.
There was a pop and a crackle and a bunch of murmuring voices before four-part a cappella music filled the kitchen. The male voices were strong and talented, and the song was catchy. I couldn’t come up with the name of the tune, but I’d heard it before. It had a jungle beat and lyrics involving stars and skies. Last week, when researching music for my choir, I’d clicked on a lot of websites for show choirs across the country. At least half of them had this song on their “best of” highlights videos. Why would Larry have a tape of the song hidden in his sock drawer?
“I know that song. ‘Stars Above.’ North Shore’s choir performed it last year,” Devlyn said.
“Larry had the tape hidden in his sock drawer.” I hit stop and popped the tape out of the radio. The cassette looked old, and the label on it looked faded. “I’m guessing that the singers on this are Larry, Greg, our friend Jim, and whoever the fourth guy was.”
Murder for Choir Page 15