Murder in D Minor Boxed Set

by Virginia Smith

  When the bride took her place, the ceremony began. Jazzy didn’t hear a word. She focused all her energy on trying not to get locked into Derrick’s gaze. Her skin burned from the red-hot touch of his eyes as he stared at her.

  The door at the back of the sanctuary cracked open.

  The flutter in her chest became a heavy thud. A uniformed deputy stepped into view. Even across the length of the sanctuary, Jazzy could see by the man’s expression that something terrible had happened.

  TWENTY

  The deputy’s head swiveled as he scanned the sanctuary. Jazzy didn’t recognize him. Thank goodness the wedding party had turned to face the altar. The minister—the only person looking in that direction besides the musicians—continued with his ceremony without missing a beat. Chelsea stared with bridal rapture at her groom, oblivious to anything happening around her. Jazzy doubted if she even heard the minister’s words, much less the quiet murmur of the guests seated in the last couple of pews who had turned their heads to gawk at the interruption.

  When the deputy caught sight of Sheriff Maguire, he started down the aisle. The wedding coordinator stepped into view, her expression fierce. She grabbed his arm and pulled him off the silken aisle runner. Chastened, the man obediently hurried around the side of the sanctuary.

  No doubt where he was headed. Jazzy tracked his progress to the second pew, where he sidestepped across the wedding guests until he reached the sheriff. He touched the sheriff’s tuxedo-clad shoulder and whispered in his ear.

  The minister’s voice cut into the quiet drama with increased volume. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  Jazzy’s attention snapped back to the ceremony. This was Derrick’s big moment.

  The tender gaze he turned on his sister twisted Jazzy’s heart in her chest. His voice rang throughout the sanctuary. “Her family, who loves her.”

  He bestowed a gentle kiss on her cheek, and then placed her hand in Quinn’s. Tears sparkled in Chelsea’s eyes as she tore her gaze away from her groom to smile up at her brother.

  As Derrick stepped backward to sit beside his mother and Aunt Myrtle, he caught sight of the deputy whispering in the sheriff’s ear. For the space of a few seconds, Derrick froze, before he slid into his seat.

  Jazzy exchanged a glance with Liz, who lifted her shoulders with a slow gesture. Whatever had happened must be pretty important. Jazzy couldn’t imagine how anyone would have the nerve to interrupt Sheriff Maguire at his son’s wedding. With a sick quiver in her stomach, she realized it must have something to do with the murder case. Had they found another victim? Lord, please no!

  The sheriff apparently considered the interruption justified. With a quick glance at his wife, whose glare could have ignited wet wood, he slipped out of the pew. He tromped down the center aisle, oblivious to the havoc his shiny black shoes wreaked on the trail of rose petals. At least the deputy was careful to follow along the edge of the silken runner.

  Jazzy saw Derrick’s head turn as he watched the duo’s progress. When he faced forward again, his gaze sought hers.

  Her fear was reflected in his eyes.

  Whispers spread among the wedding-reception guests like flames on a dried-up Christmas tree.

  “Any idea what’s going on?”

  “Why do you think the sheriff left in the middle of the ceremony?”

  “Did you see the look on Maddie Maguire’s face? I don’t envy the sheriff when she gets him alone.”

  Derrick smiled and gave a noncommittal nod as he threaded through the crowd balancing three plastic punch cups. The church’s fellowship hall had been transformed to host Chelsea’s reception. Delicious odors wafted from a line of silver chafing dishes that would provide a buffet dinner for the guests when the photographer finished with the wedding party. Derrick wove between glitter-covered tables and twisted sideways in time to miss a couple of kids dashing across the otherwise empty dance floor in pursuit of a shiny white balloon.

  “It’s outrageous, that’s what it is.” He approached the corner where the musicians were setting up their music stands in time to hear Aunt Myrtle’s pronouncement on the interruption. “What kind of family has Chelsea married into? I can’t imagine anything so important it couldn’t wait half an hour for the ceremony to end.”

  “Sheriff Maguire is a public servant, Aunt Myrtle.” Derrick extended his cup-laden hands toward Jazzy. “And he’s in the middle of the murder investigation.”

  Jazzy set a piece of music on the metal stand in front of her before relieving him of one of the brimming cups. A single line creased the smooth skin between her wide eyes. “You don’t think there’s been another victim, do you?”

  “I sure hope not,” Liz said as she took the punch he held toward her.

  Flute resting across her lap, Caitlin remained silent. She set her cup untouched on the floor beneath her chair.

  “At least he came back before the end of the ceremony,” Jazzy said. “He got to hear them say their vows.”

  “Which proves my point.” Aunt Myrtle’s hard lips drew up like she’d bitten a crab apple. “That officer obviously could have waited a few minutes. There was no need to destroy Chelsea’s wedding, after her poor mother’s effort to make it perfect.”

  Derrick was about to protest that the wedding had certainly not been ruined when Jazzy said smoothly, “It was a beautiful wedding. We’ve played at a good number of them, and this was one of the nicest. Don’t you think so, girls?”

  “Absolutely,” Caitlin answered.

  “Oh yes, one of the nicest for sure.” Liz’s reply as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her stand sounded a little rehearsed, but Aunt Myrtle didn’t seem to notice.

  “You girls played beautifully.” The old woman placed heavily-ringed fingers to her collarbone and closed her eyes in an ecstasy of appreciation. “I’ve never heard Handel played with such feeling, such artistry. You know—” she lowered her voice and dipped her head “—I was an accomplished pianist in my day.”

  Derrick bit back a blast of laughter before it escaped his lips. He remembered agonizing hours of being forced to sit on the scratchy cloth sofa while Aunt Myrtle gave one of her concerts. Even as a boy without a trace of musical ability, he’d recognized bad playing. He caught Jazzy’s glance and winked. An answering blush colored her cheeks.

  “If only someone had inherited my talent. But Derrick and Chelsea were both born with tin ears.” Aunt Myrtle cast a withering glance his way, then turned a beseeching smile on Jazzy. “Perhaps if Derrick marries wisely, there’s hope for the next generation of Rogers children.”

  Derrick failed to stop an embarrassed groan. Leave it to Aunt Myrtle. Jazzy’s blush deepened to fiery red. Caitlin and Liz both became busy with their instruments, though Derrick glimpsed their amused grins.

  A commotion behind him provided a welcome interruption. He turned in time to see the bride and groom step through the doorway arm in arm, followed by the bridal party.

  “The photographer is finished. Finally!” Aunt Myrtle waved an impatient hand in Derrick’s direction. “Derrick Stephen, escort me to my seat.”

  With Aunt Myrtle leaning heavily on his arm, Derrick cast one last apologetic glance toward Jazzy as he made his way across the dance floor toward the head table.

  “What took so long?” Aunt Myrtle demanded of Chelsea as she dropped into the chair Derrick slid out for her. “I took my pill twenty minutes ago, and you know the doctor says I must eat within thirty minutes.”

  Derrick didn’t wait around to hear Chelsea’s answer. He spotted Sheriff Maguire on the other side of the room, his expression grim. The sheriff bent slightly at the waist as Mrs. Maguire whispered rather intently into his ear. When he caught sight of Derrick’s approach, his eyes lit and he straightened.

  “Good to see you, son.” The man greeted Derrick with so much enthusiasm no one would have guessed they’d just seen each other a few hours before. “Looks like we’re officially relatives now.”

>   When Derrick clasped his hand the sheriff pulled him away from Mrs. Maguire, whose stern expression clearly indicated her determination to continue their interrupted conversation at the earliest opportunity. Derrick flashed an apologetic smile toward the woman and allowed himself to be hauled into a corner. Only when their escape was secure did the sheriff release him.

  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at his sweaty brow. “I’d rather face the criminal element than that woman when she’s got a burr under her saddle.”

  Derrick chose the wise man’s course and didn’t reply to that comment. “I haven’t had a chance to see you since we got here. When I left the hotel the girl at the front desk asked me to let you know that Goggins hasn’t been seen all afternoon. She seemed pretty worried.”

  The sheriff shot him a quick glance through narrowed lids, but his only reply was a single nod.

  Derrick studied the closed expression. “That deputy must have had something important to tell you.”

  Sheriff Maguire shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket. “You might say that.”

  “An important discovery? A new clue, maybe?”

  The man didn’t answer.

  “Not another body, I hope.”

  “Nope.”

  The sheriff stared across the room, where Chelsea and Quinn were accepting the best wishes of their guests. At that moment Jazzy and her friends launched into a stately tune, which lent an elegant atmosphere to the decorated church basement. Derrick studied his sister’s new father-in-law, who refused to meet his gaze.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “I just thought since we’re sort of relatives now—”

  Sheriff Maguire cut him off with a glance. Apparently “sort of relatives” didn’t warrant inside police information.

  “Well, I hope whatever it was means Jazzy and her friends are finally safe.”

  The sheriff’s gaze slid sideways to lock on to Derrick’s. His lips formed a grim line.

  A lump of icy dread trickled down Derrick’s throat and landed deep in his core. “You mean they’re in danger?”

  Maguire spoke so quietly Derrick almost didn’t catch his words. “Let’s just say I’m not canceling their guard yet.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The wedding guests applauded politely while the trio gracefully finished their last number. Jazzy placed her violin in its plush velvet-lined case and closed the lid.

  As Caitlin twisted the pieces of her flute apart she grinned at Jazzy. “That was one of our better performances, I think.”

  Liz, stooping over her cello case, agreed. “The bride seems pleased, anyway.”

  Jazzy glanced at the head table, where Chelsea clapped with enthusiasm. Her gaze then intersected Derrick’s, two seats away from his sister. The intensity in his eyes as he applauded made Jazzy duck her head, her cheeks burning. “Well, we earned our fee tonight.”

  “Trust me,” Liz said, straightening, “we have more than earned our fee with this gig.”

  Given all they’d been through, Jazzy had to agree.

  The disc jockey, a spiky-haired kid with an impressive soundboard, picked up a microphone and stepped out into the middle of the dance floor. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for the old-lady music—I mean the classical ensemble.”

  The kid turned an impish grin their way, and Jazzy stuck a playful tongue out in his direction, which made the crowd laugh.

  “But now that you’ve filled your bellies, are you ready to get down and boogie?” The kid was in possession of an obvious ham bone, perfect for a live DJ. The crowd answered with a smattering of applause. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your turn. But first, Chelsea and Quinn are going to inaugurate this dance floor with the traditional first dance.”

  Music blared from giant black speakers as the bride and groom moved to the center of the dance floor. Jazzy picked up her sheet music and placed it in her leather portfolio. As she fastened the clasps, she stole a glance at the newlyweds. A sentimental wave threatened to flood her eyes when she glimpsed the love shining on Quinn’s face as he stared down at his bride.

  A respectful few minutes into the song, more couples made their way onto the dance floor.

  “Surprise, surprise,” mumbled Liz. “Look who’s heading this way.”

  Jazzy turned in the direction she indicated, and found herself face-to-face with Derrick.

  “Would you do me the honor?” The warmth in his eyes sent a flush to her cheeks.

  Jazzy stared at the hand he extended. She could name about a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t step onto a dance floor with this guy. Their lack of common interests topped the list. But no matter how many reasons she could come up with not to get involved with Derrick Rogers, one fact remained: his were the dreamiest eyes she’d ever had the opportunity to gaze into.

  Caitlin placed a hand on her back. “Go ahead. We’ll get everything else packed up and then grab something to eat.”

  Jazzy felt herself shoved gently forward, right into Derrick’s waiting arms. He whisked her to the center of the dance floor before she could protest.

  For a few awkward moments their feet bumped into each other and Jazzy fought to keep her hand from clenching his tuxedo-clad shoulder. Her gaze searched the room—anywhere but his face—and she caught a glimpse of Aunt Myrtle’s triumphant gleam and Chelsea’s encouraging nod. Then they settled into a rhythm as Jazzy matched his movements in reverse. For a guy who spent a lot of time sending worms to their watery graves, Derrick sure seemed comfortable on a dance floor.

  The silence that stretched between them was starting to feel strained. “Uh, I saw you talking with the sheriff earlier. Did he tell you what that deputy said?”

  For an instant Derrick’s hand tightened on hers, but then he relaxed. “He wouldn’t say much. Just that they haven’t discovered another victim.”

  Jazzy searched his face. His eyes did not meet hers. Was he holding something back? “It must not have been too important, or I guess he would have had to leave, huh?”

  He lifted the shoulder her hand rested on. “I guess. But he did say he was keeping a guard assigned to you and Liz and Caitlin.” He looked down at her then, a frown hovering at the corners of his eyes. “Just stick close to them tonight, okay?”

  Jazzy fought the temptation to become irritated with his protective advice. She was a grown woman, and she didn’t need him to tell her to stick close to her friends. But she also knew he was right. All she had to do was close her eyes to hear Liz’s scream as it pierced the night. She shuddered. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere except right back to the hotel room tonight.”

  “I hope you’ll stay here for a while. This DJ is pretty good, and we’ve got him booked ’til midnight.”

  Jazzy shook her head. “Sitting in a chair and playing an instrument for a couple of hours might not look like hard work, but honestly, after a performance like this we’re pretty wiped out. We’ll just have something to eat and then head back to the hotel.” If she had her preference, she’d skip the buffet here in favor of room service. Let Bradley buy her dinner tonight. She suddenly remembered Emmy’s concern. “I hope nothing’s happened to Bradley.”

  Derrick’s mouth tightened. “If he has disappeared, it might mean I was right.”

  “Or wrong,” Jazzy said. No matter how incriminating the circumstances, she just couldn’t see the friendly hotel manager murdering someone.

  Derrick changed the subject. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “Right after Caitlin and Liz are finished judging. Probably around two.” Worry gnawed in her belly, and she blurted out the question that had plagued her since Liz was attacked. “You don’t think the killer will follow us home, do you?”

  Derrick’s hand tightened on her waist. His expression was grim. “Let’s pray they catch the guy before you leave, and then we won’t have to worry about that.”

  Jazzy noticed he didn’t answer h
er question. The worry transformed into a knot of fear.

  “Okay, I think that’s it.”

  Jazzy stepped back from Matt’s cruiser as he slammed the trunk, their instruments stowed inside. Derrick walked her around to the passenger side of the vehicle while Matt circled to the driver’s door. Liz and Caitlin were already in the backseat.

  Derrick reached for the door handle, then paused. “Wait a minute.”

  He went to his truck and leaned through the open window. Old Sue, who’d been freed from the front seat by a pack of the younger wedding guests, ran across the church lawn toward him with a ball in her mouth. Jazzy’s lips tightened when she saw Old Sue drop the ball, plant her feet on Derrick’s chest and greet him with a tongue on the cheek. She might be willing to admit that Old Sue was a pretty cool animal, but there was no telling how many germs resided in dog slobber. One of the kids snatched the ball and took off, Old Sue in hot pursuit, apparently having the time of her life.

  The sun had disappeared from view in the sky behind Derrick. Jazzy squinted to see his face in the deepening twilight when he trotted back toward her. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about you not having a cell phone for a while, so I want you to take this.” He thrust a phone into her hand.

  “Derrick, I can’t take yours. I’ll get another one.” She tried to give it back to him, but he hid his hands behind his back.

  “That’ll take time, and you need a phone. Besides, I have an ulterior motive.” His grin held enough mischievous charm to make her pulse flutter. “When the sheriff is finished with yours, I intend to drive to Lexington and trade.”

  A rush of pleasure weakened her knees. She couldn’t look him in the eye as she dropped the phone into the deep pockets of her loose slacks. “Will we see you tomorrow?” she managed to stammer.

  “You bet.” He ducked his head, forcing her to look up. “Want to have breakfast? Say around eight?”