by Sarah Fox
Suppressing a shudder, I vowed to do as Constable Ryan had requested and keep Fred’s discovery to myself for the time being. As the two men disappeared from sight, I turned around and saw that Janine had already finished giving her statement and was returning to the lounge. Mikayla too had finished speaking with the other police officer, and she joined me as I left the corridor for the musicians’ lounge.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, trying to rein in my thoughts. I didn’t want to let on that I’d heard some potentially unsettling information.
“At least we can head home now.”
I hesitated by my locker, my eyes going to JT where he still sat on the couch, chatting with one of the orchestra’s bass players. “I think I’ll wait for JT.”
“Okay,” Mikayla said as she headed for her own locker. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“See you,” I echoed.
I was about to join JT on the couch when one of the police officers gestured to him to go and provide his statement. So instead of sitting down I changed my route and approached Dongmei where she stood across the room, on her own, her eyes red-rimmed.
She tried to smile when she saw me approaching, but she was only partly successful. “Hey, Midori.”
“Hi. How are you doing?” I asked.
She shrugged and blinked back tears. “Okay. It’s just upsetting, you know?”
“It is,” I agreed. “Is your family here tonight?”
“No, I’m on my own. But my parents and sister will be here for the next concert.” She drew in a deep breath. “How are you doing? Didn’t you find Pavlina in the washroom?”
“Yes, my stand partner and I did.” The first seconds after finding Pavlina’s body replayed in my memory. “It was disconcerting, but I’m all right.” I once again noted Dongmei’s red-rimmed eyes. “Did you know Pavlina well?”
“Not really,” she replied. “But we’ve been acquaintances for a few years. We were at a music and composition retreat together in Banff three years ago. That’s when I first met her. Even then it was obvious she’d be a successful composer.” She blinked against a welling of tears. “Except now she won’t be, will she?” A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.
“No,” I said with a heavy heart. “She won’t.” I thought of Pavlina’s loved ones, and the loss they would now have to endure. “Do you know anything about her family?”
Dongmei wiped a tear off her cheek. “She mentioned that her parents still live in Toronto where she grew up. They weren’t able to come out here for the concerts. But other than that, no, I don’t know anything. This will be terrible for them.”
I nodded, a sharp pang of sympathy cutting through me.
Catching sight of JT returning to the lounge, I gave Dongmei a hug. “I’ll see you next week.”
Again she tried to smile, but it was weighed down by sadness.
Leaving Dongmei, I met up with JT in the middle of the lounge. “All done?” I asked him.
“Yep. There really wasn’t anything I could tell them.”
“That’s probably true of most people who were here,” I said.
I was about to tell him about the blood on Fred’s hammer, but then remembered that Constable Ryan had asked me to keep quiet about that news. It would be tough to keep the information from JT, but I’d do my best. At any rate, even if I did end up telling him, the musicians’ lounge wasn’t the place to do so. The crowd had thinned out significantly over the past half hour or so, but there were still several people lingering in the room, either because they were waiting to give their statements to the police or because they were talking over the terrible events of the evening with their friends.
“Ready to go?” JT asked.
“Yes.” I turned in the direction of my locker. “I’ll just grab my things.”
Once I’d donned my coat and gloves and had gathered up my instrument case and tote bag, I waved goodbye to a couple of my friends who were still in the lounge and headed for the door with JT. Cameron fell into step with us and I realized that I’d temporarily forgotten about him. He’d spent much of the past half hour in a corner of the room with his phone, but if he was leaving with us he must have spoken to the police at some point.
“Did you already pack up all the rest of your equipment?” I asked JT, eyeing his laptop and the recorder in Cameron’s charge.
“Yep. It’s all in the truck.”
JT pushed open the stage door and held it while Cameron and I passed through. The three of us walked down the short side alley to the parking lot at the back of the theater, our breaths forming little clouds in the cold night air. Although my coat and gloves warded off the worst of the chill, I still shivered as I walked, and I looked forward to getting home so I could snuggle up beneath some warm blankets.
When we reached the parking lot Cameron veered off to the left, in the direction of JT’s truck, while JT and I continued on straight ahead to my blue MINI Cooper. After years of riding the bus everywhere I was still getting used to the fact that I owned a car. But after a scare a couple of months earlier when a man grabbed and threatened me while I was walking alone at night, I no longer felt comfortable making my way to and from bus stops after dark.
With some encouragement from JT, I’d looked into getting a secondhand car. Fortunately, I didn’t have to look far. My cousin—who went through vehicles at what I considered a ridiculous rate—had wanted to offload her five-year-old MINI Cooper so she could get something new. She’d offered me the car for a somewhat decent price and I’d taken her up on it. It certainly made my life easier to have a car, and I knew JT was less anxious about my safety now. He still watched out for me, though, like he was at the moment, walking me to my car.
I was grateful for that, and his concern for me always made me happy. Not for the first time, I wished I could express my true feelings for him, wished I could let him know how much I appreciated everything he did for me, how much I loved him. But as always, a terrible fear of ruining our friendship—the most important thing in the world to me—held me back.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I unlocked my car. I was about to say some parting words to JT when Cameron swore loudly, his voice slicing through the cold night air.
“What’s wrong?” JT called to him.
Instead of responding, Cameron swore again, stepping away from the back of JT’s truck, one hand running through his hair, his every move agitated.
JT jogged across the parking lot toward him. Still holding my violin, I locked the car door before following after him. The tailgate of JT’s truck was down, but I assumed Cameron had lowered it, until JT took one look in the back of the truck and echoed Cameron’s cursing.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I stepped closer so I could see into the covered bed of the truck.
“Everything’s gone.” JT was more bewildered than I’d seen him in a long time.
I took in the sight of the empty truck bed. He was right. Whatever equipment he and Cameron had stored there was gone, not even a single cable left behind.
“But how?” I asked, my stomach sinking.
“Did you lock it the last time you were out here?” JT directed the question at Cameron.
“I thought I did but . . . I must not have.” Cameron looked as though he might be sick.
JT checked the tailgate. “There’s no sign that the lock was jimmied.”
Cameron swore again. “I’m so sorry, man.”
JT didn’t respond, and I knew he had no idea what to say. I could tell from his expression that he was still shocked by the theft. He’d not only lost hundreds—maybe even thousands—of dollars’ worth of equipment, he needed that equipment to finish the job at the theater.
I put a hand on his back. “We should tell the police.”
Still dazed, JT nodded.
&nbs
p; I took his arm and led him back down the alley to the stage door. Cameron followed several feet behind us, not saying a word. By the time we’d reentered the theater, JT had recovered enough to shake himself out of his daze. He approached Constable Ryan and told him what had happened.
While JT spoke with the police officer, my gaze drifted past them, down the hall to where two men in suits were speaking with Olivia Hutchcraft. As I watched, the two men showed her their identification and Olivia put one hand to her throat, clearly upset. Even though I couldn’t see the men’s identification from my vantage point, I didn’t doubt for a second that they were police detectives.
Would they have arrived on the scene even if Fred hadn’t found blood on his hammer? Or had the focus of the investigation shifted from a routine review of what was believed to be an accident to a possible homicide case?
I knew it would take time for the police to find out if the blood on the hammer belonged to Pavlina, but I wondered if the investigators had found any other signs that pointed toward murder. As that thought wandered through my head, a man and a woman dressed in crime scene coveralls appeared from the direction of the women’s washroom and caught the detectives’ attention.
The two men in suits excused themselves from their conversation with Olivia and moved farther down the corridor to join their colleagues. I wished I could overhear what they were saying, to know what they’d discovered by examining Pavlina’s body and the scene of her death, but I couldn’t hear a single word.
Disappointed, I returned my attention to JT and his predicament. Sympathy for my best friend and anger at the unknown thieves battled for dominance inside of me. A flicker of annoyance at Cameron also made an appearance, but I did my best to extinguish it when I saw how upset he was. He’d made a dumb mistake by forgetting to lock the truck, but it was a mistake anyone could have made.
Still, I worried about the effect the theft would have on JT, especially while he waited for his insurance claim to be processed. He needed his equipment to finish the job at the theater and to take on any similar jobs in the future. He could use his studio to record his own music and for sessions with other musicians, and luckily he hadn’t lost that night’s recordings since he had his laptop and recorder, but the loss of his expensive equipment was still inconvenient.
As JT stepped away from the police officer, I moved to his side.
“What did Constable Ryan say?” I asked.
“He and the others are tied up with Pavlina’s death, but he’s going to call in another officer to deal with my problem.”
I glanced Constable Ryan’s way, and sure enough, he was speaking into his radio.
“Hopefully we won’t have to wait long,” I said.
“You don’t have to stick around,” JT told me. “You should head home and get some sleep.”
“I can’t leave you here after what happened,” I protested.
JT smiled, the first relaxed expression on his face since he’d found out about the theft. “I’ll be fine, Dori.”
I still didn’t want to leave, even though he’d have Cameron there for company while he waited for the police.
JT noticed my reluctance and rested a hand on my shoulder. “You really don’t need to stay. I’ll walk you to your car, okay?”
I relented, only because I was suddenly aware of how late it was and how tired I’d become. “All right.” I let him guide me toward the stage door. “But call me tomorrow and let me know what happens?”
“I will.”
With that assurance, I climbed into my car and drove off, waving to JT as I turned out of the parking lot. On my way home I marveled at the unexpected turns the evening had taken. In the space of only an hour or two there’d been a death and a theft. At the moment only one of those was considered criminal, but I had a funny feeling that would soon change. The more time that passed since Mikayla and I had found Pavlina’s body, the more I suspected that her death was the result of something far more sinister than an unfortunate accident.
Chapter Five
ALTHOUGH THE NEXT day was Saturday, I didn’t get to enjoy the luxury of lounging around in bed. Once I woke up, my brain was far too alert for that. Thoughts of Pavlina and the theft of JT’s equipment kept swirling around in my head, leaving me restless and unsettled. Within minutes of waking, I threw back my covers and left their warmth behind, heading straight for the bathroom. As soon as I’d showered and dressed for the day, I checked my phone, hoping I might have heard from JT. I hadn’t.
I fixed myself a simple breakfast of toast and honey but could barely sit still long enough to eat it. As I washed my dishes and put them away, I considered using some of my restless energy to give my apartment a good clean. Before I had a chance to dig out my cleaning supplies, my phone chimed with the arrival of a text message. It was from JT, asking if I wanted to join him for a walk in the forest with his dog, Finnegan.
Smiling, I sent an affirmative reply, telling him I’d be at his place in ten minutes. Fresh air and time with my best friend and favorite dog sounded far more appealing than spending the day cooped up indoors cleaning. Although I wanted to ask JT what had happened at the theater after my departure the night before, I decided to wait. It would be easier to go through all that in person than via text messages.
Peering out my living room window, I noted the presence of frost on the grass, trees, and parked cars, wintry white crystals that winked and gleamed. It would be another chilly day, at least for the next few hours, though the sun was doing its best to break through the gray clouds overhead.
Slipping into a pair of flats, I pulled on a warm jacket, a pair of gloves, and a knitted, slouchy hat that would keep the worst of the cold away from my ears. Then I left my apartment and set off for JT’s house, located a short distance away from my Kerrisdale apartment.
Never a long trip, even by bus, the journey to JT’s place only took me about five minutes now that I had a car, and I arrived within the ten minutes I’d predicted. As I parked my MINI Cooper in front of JT’s white two-story house, he came out the front door with Finnegan, a leash attached to the collie-malamute’s collar.
“Morning,” JT called out as he and Finnegan came down the front steps to meet me.
“Morning,” I returned.
I crouched down so I could give Finnegan a big hug, his fluffy tail wagging enthusiastically. Once I’d ruffled his fur and he’d given me a wet kiss on the cheek, I straightened up and we set off in the direction of the forest that began at the edge of JT’s neighborhood and extended out to the campus of the University of British Columbia.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” JT asked as we walked.
“Surprisingly, I did all right,” I said. “Although I think I had a nightmare that I can’t quite remember.” Only flashes of fear and looming shadows remained from the dream, and I was glad of that. It wasn’t something I had any desire to recall in more detail. “How about you?” I checked his face for signs of stress or unhappiness, but while he wasn’t at his most relaxed, he seemed all right.
“It took me a while to fall asleep,” he replied. “But then I got a few solid hours in.”
I tucked my arm through his as we crossed the street and entered the forest, following a wide, well-used path. “What did the police have to say about your equipment?”
JT grimaced. “Not much. They made a report and told me to keep an eye out on Craigslist and other online classified sites. Most of the equipment was inscribed with my driver’s license number, but that only helps to identify it as mine if the police find it.”
“And you don’t think they will?” I guessed.
“The police didn’t seem too hopeful so I’m not going to hold my breath.”
“I don’t suppose the thief or thieves were caught on security camera.”
“No,” JT confirmed. “There’s a camera in the alley pointed at the stage d
oor and another one that covers part of the lot, but not where my truck was parked. And whoever the thief was, they were aware of the cameras and stayed out of their range.”
“That’s so . . . argh,” I said, frustrated. “Are you mad at Cameron?”
JT paused to unhook Finnegan’s leash so he could bound about freely and sniff all the interesting smells along the path. “A little. I wish he’d been more careful, but I know he feels bad about it, and it’s not like I’ve never forgotten to lock my truck before. Just never with lots of expensive equipment in the back.”
A middle-aged couple with a toy poodle approached us from up ahead. JT and I exchanged pleasantries with them while the two dogs gave each other a thorough sniffing before moving on.
“I’m a bit mad at Cameron too, on your behalf,” I admitted once we were on our own again. “But you’re right—it was an unintentional slip-up on his part and he did seem to feel really bad about it.”
At least, I hoped it was unintentional. Suspicions crept into my thoughts, but I ignored them for the moment.
“And it’s only equipment that was lost. Ultimately, it can all be replaced and nobody was hurt. That’s what’s most important.”
I couldn’t argue with that, especially after what had happened to Pavlina—whatever that was, exactly. The theft was inconvenient for JT, but not disastrous. At least it wouldn’t be disastrous if he could still complete the job at the theater.
“What are you going to do about recording the concert next week?” I asked.
“I talked to a buddy of mine this morning, one I met in a sound engineering course a few years back. He’s got some equipment he can loan me for a couple of days. Together with some of the spare stuff I’ve got lying around, that should get me through this job, at least.”