Elizabeth spotted a security guard at the other end of the parking lot. “Bailey, go get that guard!” she suggested.
Bailey was off like a bullet, as Elizabeth tried to console the girl. “Is anything else missing?” she asked.
Kristi glanced at her other bags. “It doesn’t look like it. The only thing I had of any value was in that guitar case!”
Within moments Bailey reappeared, the security guard at her heels.
“What seems to be the problem?” the man asked.
“My guitar! It’s been stolen!” Kristi told him.
The man pulled out a walkie-talkie and pushed a button. “Headquarters, this is Officer Wilson over at parking area four. We have what looks like a burglary. Would you send the sheriff’s department right away?”
The person on the other end of the device agreed, and Officer Wilson pulled out a notepad and began asking questions.
As Kristi told the man her name, age, and what time she arrived at the parking lot, Elizabeth and Bailey looked at the guitar case.
“Why would someone take the guitar and leave the case?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they thought it would take her longer to notice it was missing,” Elizabeth answered.
The officer looked over his shoulder at them, frowned, and then turned back to Kristi.
“I think he wants us to keep quiet,” Elizabeth whispered. In silence, the girls leaned over the trunk to examine the case more closely.
Soon, a brown-and-white sheriff’s car pulled up beside them. “We were told there was a burglary here?” said a man in a sheriff’s uniform.
His partner was a younger woman with dark hair and eyes. She immediately got out of the car and put her arm around Kristi, who was in tears.
“It’s okay, honey. My name is Deputy Kate Collins. We’ll get this all sorted out,” she told the girl. Then, looking at Elizabeth and Bailey, she asked, “Is this your friend?”
“We just met her today,” Elizabeth told her. “We were going to help her unload her trunk, and when she pulled out her guitar case, it was empty.”
The woman opened the back door to the sheriff’s car and told Kristi, “Here. Sit down and tell us exactly what happened.”
Kristi wiped her eyes with the tissue the woman held out, and then sat sideways in the car, her feet on the graveled parking lot.
Elizabeth and Bailey listened as Kristi answered their questions. “That guitar was my future. I drove here from Georgia for this conference, and I was supposed to meet with some people who wanted to buy that guitar!”
“What made the guitar so valuable?” asked Officer Wilson.
“It was a handmade Gibson Les Paul model. But my dad made it even more special. He used to play for some of the greatest country legends of all time! Since he’s had multiple sclerosis, people have made him some pretty generous offers. But he’s never been willing to part with it until now. He wanted to use the money to send me to Julliard!” her tears started pouring again.
The officers looked at each other over Kristi’s head and shook their heads. Elizabeth had a feeling she knew what they were thinking. This was Nashville. There were guitars everywhere.
The woman knelt in front of Kristi. “Why don’t you describe the guitar to us. We’ll file a report and see what happens.”
Something about her tone made Kristi look up. “You don’t think you’ll find it, do you?”
The woman looked grim. “We’ll do our best. But I have to be honest. Finding a missing guitar in Music City can be like finding a needle in a haystack.”
Kristi took a deep breath and looked at Deputy Collins in the eyes. “You have to find it. Please,” she pleaded.
The woman looked at her partner, then back at Kristi. “We’ll do our best.”
Elizabeth and Bailey looked at each other. “It doesn’t sound like they think they’ll find it,” Bailey whispered.
“I know,” Elizabeth whispered back. “I’m sure they’ll try. But a missing guitar probably isn’t a very high priority to them, with all the other crimes that probably happen in this city.”
They looked at each other, each knowing what the other was thinking. If this crime was to be solved, it was up to them. It sounded like another job for the Camp Club Girls!
They began looking at the guitar case again, this time as closely as they could without removing it from the trunk. “Look,” Bailey whispered, pulling a hair from the blue velvet liner. “It’s red. Kristi’s hair is brown, almost black.”
Elizabeth examined the hair.
“Hold on to it. Maybe someone in Kristi’s family has red hair,” she whispered. Then, leaning farther into the trunk, she saw something white caught in one of the folds of velvet.
“What’s this?” she whispered.
Before they could look more closely, the speaker in the sheriff’s car began blaring, “Disturbance at the city park. All units to the city park.”
The tall officer shut his notebook, and Deputy Collins said, “Thank you for the information, miss. I’m sorry about your guitar. We’ll do our best.”
Kristi stood, dazed, and allowed the door to be shut behind her. The two sheriffs climbed back into their car, turned on the siren, and sped off.
Officer Wilson shook his head compassionately.
“A Gibson Les Paul model. That’s too bad,” he said, and then walked away.
Kristi stared into the empty guitar case, looking forlorn.
“Come on,” Elizabeth told her, shutting the case. “Let’s get your stuff to your room.”
Bailey grabbed one of Kristi’s bags, and Elizabeth grabbed the other. Kristi started to shut the trunk lid, leaving her empty case, but Elizabeth stopped her. “No, bring it,” she said.
Kristi thought about it a moment, then nodded. She grabbed the bulky case, slammed the trunk, and followed the girls to the building that housed the conference participants.
The three said little, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, in the elevator, Kristi sighed heavily.
“What am I going to tell my dad? How am I supposed to tell him I lost his guitar?” she asked.
“You didn’t lose it,” Bailey reassured her. “It was stolen. And we’ll do all we can to find it.”
Kristi shook her head. “You’re sweet, but you heard the officers. They don’t think there’s a chance in this world they will find it.”
Bailey grinned. “I didn’t say they would find it!”
Kristi looked confused, and the elevator doors opened to the second floor. Elizabeth held a finger to her lips, because people were milling about the hallway.
“This way,” she guided the other two girls, checking Kristi’s key for the room number. They arrived at room 214; it was empty.
The three girls filed into Kristi’s room, and Elizabeth shut the door behind them. Kristi laid the empty guitar case on the bed and sat beside it, wiping unbidden tears from her cheeks.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Elizabeth.
Kristi stared off into the distance.
“My dad is a country music legend. You’ve probably never heard of him, but I guarantee you, nearly every established musician in Nashville knows my dad. He is one of the best guitarists in the history of country music. No one can do what he did with a guitar.” Kristi brushed unwanted tears away with the back of her hand.
“I don’t understand,” said Bailey. “You talk like he’s no longer playing. What made him quit?”
Kristi fingered the old guitar case. “Three years ago, my dad started having some problems. His arm was tingling, and it felt numb. His vision became blurred. He started losing his balance. He even fell down once on stage. The audience laughed, thinking he was drunk, but my dad doesn’t drink any alcohol.”
Elizabeth and Bailey listened quietly.
“After the falling incident, Mom convinced him to see a doctor. They found out that my dad has multiple sclerosis. It has progressed pretty quickly. He can barely hold a guitar anymore,
much less play one.” She ran her hand along the top of the case. “All his dreams, all his accomplishments in life were symbolized by this guitar. And he was willing to sell it—for me. And now it’s gone.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Finally she asked, “What is your dad’s name?”
“Joshua Conrad,” she whispered.
Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. “Your dad is Joshua Conrad?”
Kristi looked up. “Yeah. Have you heard of him?”
Elizabeth nodded, amazed she was sitting in the room with Joshua Conrad’s daughter. “I have one of his albums!”
Kristi’s face lit up. “You must have his only album,” she said. “He only did one solo album, but he played backup for hundreds of others.”
Elizabeth smiled. “My parents used to play that album for us at bedtime, kind of like a lullaby. It’s some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks,” Kristi whispered, and Elizabeth fought back her own tears. To have such a gift taken away by such an awful disease was beyond her imagination.
No one seemed to know what to say next. Finally, Elizabeth spoke up. “Kristi, Bailey and I can help you find your guitar.”
Kristi gave them a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, but I don’t think there’s much any of us can do, except look for someone carrying it around here at the conference. I doubt the thief will be dumb enough to flaunt it right in front of me.”
Elizabeth bent down on one knee in front of her new friend, and looked into her eyes. “Kristi, Bailey and I have dealt with this kind of thing before. We’ll tell you all about that later, but first, we need you to answer some questions.” She looked at Bailey, who reached into her pocket, then held out the strand of red hair.
“Does anyone in your family have red hair?” Bailey asked her.
Squinting, Kristi took the hair and held it up to the light. “No, we’re all brunettes. Except for my dad—his hair is gray. Where did you get this?” she asked.
“From inside your guitar case!” Bailey told her.
While Kristi examined the hair, Elizabeth reached for the case. “I saw something else too. May I open this?”
Kristi nodded, her curiosity obvious.
Elizabeth snapped open the case and ran her hand along the edge of the blue velvet, moving the crushed folds to the side. “Here it is!” she said, and pulled out a ticket stub. The other two girls moved close, and Elizabeth read the words aloud. “Country Music Ha–” The ticket was torn down the middle.
“What could that be a ticket to?” Bailey asked. “A country music happening? Hat museum?”
Elizabeth added to the suggestions. “Hair stylist? Hail and farewell?”
Kristi took the ticket and looked at it. “It’s the Country Music Hall of Fame,” said Kristi. “My dad has some ticket stubs like this in his scrap-book. And this isn’t just any ticket.” She pointed to the red stripe running across the end of the stub. “The tickets you buy at the door are plain white with red and blue writing. But the VIP tickets have a red band running across the ends. Whoever owns this ticket didn’t just visit the Country Music Hall of Fame. He or she is a member.”
“You think a superstar stole your dad’s guitar?” Bailey’s eyes grew wide.
Kristi shook her head. “People who work for some of the major studios are given a membership. They don’t necessarily belong to a big star…but possibly to a musician.”
The girls stared at the ticket stub, their minds processing the information. “So maybe the thief is a red-haired musician,” Kristi said.
“Well, it appears that way. It gives us a starting place, anyway. But before we go any further, Kristi, we need to know something. Who knew you were bringing the guitar here?” Elizabeth asked.
Kristi laughed. “Everybody who is anybody in country music knew I was bringing the guitar here to sell. Dad has been talking to some bigwigs for weeks now. Some of them are teachers at this conference and others are stopping by to look at the guitar. I even had appointments to meet a couple of them at their recording studios.”
Bailey and Elizabeth looked at each other. “And all of these people are probably members of The Country Music Hall of Fame,” Bailey said.
Kristi nodded.
“Well, at least that narrows it down some. Do you know if any of them have red hair?” Elizabeth asked.
Kristi shook her head. “I know a couple of them, but not many. I have no idea what they look like.”
Elizabeth looked at her watch. “We have about an hour. Let’s go to the room Bailey and I are staying in. I brought my new laptop with me, and it has wireless internet access. Maybe we can do a search for the people who were interested in the guitar. If they are such country music bigwigs, surely their pictures will be on the internet.”
“Good idea,” said Bailey. “And let’s bring the case. I don’t want to take any chances!”
Kristi grabbed the guitar case, and the three girls headed for the door. Just as Elizabeth reached for the doorknob, she had to jump back. The door slammed open. There in front of them was a young woman dressed in a Western hat, boots, and a sequined Western shirt with fringe and tassels hanging from every possible place.
“Hi there! Which one of you is my roommate?” she asked.
The three girls just stared, openmouthed.
The girl’s hair was flaming red.
Another Redhead!
An hour later, Elizabeth, Bailey, and Kristi sat down in a large conference room. Mary-Lynn, Kristi’s roommate, had followed them into their room, chattering the hour away. She had finally left them to track down some of the agents.
“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” whispered Bailey. “I have a feeling we’re all gonna be famous by the end of the conference.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t want to be famous. I just want to learn more about music. I’d love to be able to use my music to help people somehow. But I suppose being famous wouldn’t be all bad…what about you, Kristi? What are your goals?”
Kristi looked thoughtful. “I know this probably sounds funny, but I couldn’t care less if anybody ever knows my name. I just—I just have music in me, and I have to let it out. I have to write. I have to sing. And the more I learn about all kinds of music, the better I’ll be able to express what’s in my heart. That’s why I want to go to Julliard. It’s the best music school in the country, possibly the world. But, it looks like I may have to settle for community college…”
Elizabeth patted her friend on the leg. “Don’t give up hope. We’ll do all we can to find your—”
“There you are!” Mary-Lynn interrupted them. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Do I look okay? Do you think I’ll be noticed?”
The three girls looked at Mary-Lynn’s sparkly, glittery skirt and satin shirt. Yes, she would be noticed. No one commented, but the red-haired diva didn’t seem to notice.
She sat down next to Bailey, her eyes scanning the room. “Have you spotted any of the agents yet? I hope I’ll be picked up by an agent this weekend.”
Bailey pounced on the opportunity to question the girl. “Mary-Lynn, um…tell me your last name again?”
Mary-Lynn leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Shhhhhh. My real last name is Smith. But I registered for this conference under my stage name. Mary-Lynn Monroe.”
Elizabeth stared at the girl, trying not to laugh. Mary-Lynn Monroe? Like Marilyn Monroe? Is this girl for real?
Then, Elizabeth saw a flicker of…something. Something in the girl’s eyes showed insecurity. She just wants to be loved, Elizabeth realized.
“Well, no one is likely to forget that name, Mary-Lynn. And you look lovely in your outfit too.”
Bailey flashed her a shocked look, but Elizabeth ignored it. She didn’t know if Mary-Lynn was involved in the guitar theft or not. But one thing was certain: This was going to be an interesting week.
The girls’ attention turned to the front of the room, where a twentysomething man adjusted the micr
ophone. There was a guitar hanging from a strap around his neck, and soon he began strumming. The crowd was delighted when he began to sing a hilarious welcome song in an exaggerated country twang:
“Welcome young musicians
To our conference.
We hope when you are done here,
You’ll be glad you went.
We’ll teach you about music
And being in the spotlight.
By the time we’re through with you,
You won’t have stage fright.”
A young woman joined him in harmony for the second verse, and then an older man added his voice for the third. By the time they were finished, the room was filled with laughter and applause.
When those three exited the stage, a familiar-looking man took the microphone. Elizabeth tilted her head, trying to place him.
Is that…? No, it couldn’t be. He would have said something. But when the man spoke, Elizabeth knew his voice. The man from the plane!
“Welcome to the Music City Young Musician’s Conference! My name is Rick Forrest, and I’m the conference director. I know you all are excited to be here, and we’re excited to have you. It’s my hope and prayer that you’ll leave here with the tools to become better musicians and performers.”
The man went on to introduce the staff, more than a dozen experts in different aspects of the music business. There was a songwriter, a pianist, a guitarist, a fiddle player, and several other instrumentalists. There was a computer expert, who would teach about running soundboards and setting up recording studios. There was a choreographer, a lighting expert, a costume designer, and others.
“I’ll have a hard time deciding which classes to go to,” whispered Bailey.
“Me too,” whispered Elizabeth. “Maybe we should divide and conquer. We’ll take different classes, and then teach each other what we learn.”
“Good idea,” Bailey agreed.
“Shhhhh!” Mary-Lynn gave them a pointed look, and the girls straightened in their seats.
Finally Mr. Forrest said, “Now, it’s time for the highlight of our conference…” A soft drumroll played in the background as the man paused for effect. The audience leaned forward in anticipation.
Camp Club Girls: Elizabeth Page 33