by Diana Orgain
Jim, his face two shades whiter than normal, stammered, “I-I’m just gonna go check on something.”
He bolted for the door.
Just then, I heard a wailing baby in the lobby. My heart leaped. It sounded just like—
“Kenny?” Jim’s voice.
My baby!
I took off running, my heart pounding. Why was Kenny here? Why was Laurie crying? Why—
I skidded to a stop in the lobby, and Laurie caught sight of me and lurched toward me, practically tearing herself from Kenny’s arms. I pulled her close to me and kissed her forehead. Her cries didn’t stop, but they quieted enough that we could speak over them.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Kenny.
He grimaced and jumped up to sit on the front desk. “She pulled herself up on the coffee table and hit her head, and I couldn’t get her to calm down. I tried calling.”
Sure enough, there was a small lump on the top of Laurie’s head. I internally berated myself for forgetting to turn my ringer on. I’d set it to vibrate earlier when Laurie was napping.
What kind of mother was I?
“Anyway,” Kenny continued, “normally I’d just deal with the crying, but since she hit her head, I just wasn’t sure what to do . . .”
“You did the right thing,” I assured him. My heart thumped extra hard. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, either. Her pupils looked fine. “Has she thrown up or anything?”
Kenny shook his head. “No, just cried and cried.”
“I’ll try to nurse her,” I said. “Jim, can you try to get ahold of Dr. Clement?”
“Of course.” Jim reached for his cell phone.
At that moment, I realized Odette had followed us out to the lobby. Kenny seemed to notice, too, because all signs of distress left his face. He stared at Odette, a deer-in-the-headlights expression making him look incredibly silly.
Laurie’s cries softened to a gentle coo, and warmth suffused my chest. My baby had just needed her mama. I kissed her forehead again, careful to avoid the bump. “There’s a sweet girl,” I whispered.
For privacy, I withdrew back to the room we’d been dancing in—I remembered a chair in the corner where I could sit in relative solitude. As I stepped away, I heard Kenny’s voice—half an octave lower than normal—say, “Hey. I’m Ken.”
Ken? I snorted. Odette was gorgeous, of course, and Kenny was between girlfriends, so I wasn’t surprised he’d fallen head over heels at the sight of her. But unfortunately for Kenny, there was no way elegant, worldly Odette was going to be impressed by a starstruck eighteen-year-old.
Poor Kenny.
By the time Laurie finally calmed, Jim had talked to the nurse at Dr. Clement’s office and gotten a list of warning signs to watch for.
“Should we just go home?” I asked. “I’m not really in the mood for the last twenty minutes of the lesson.”
“Me neither,” grumbled Jim, glancing at our reflections in the room’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors. “But we’ve gotta schedule a lot more lessons if we’re going to be part of the dance demonstration.”
I stood and shifted Laurie to my hip. “You can say no if you’re not comfortable with it.”
Jim looked aghast. “What? No. I-I just panicked. That’s all. We promised we’d help out however they needed us. It will be fine.”
We reached the hallway, and Laurie entwined her fingers in my hair. When we walked into the lobby, I stopped short. Kenny was leaning up against the wall, and Odette was laughing at something he’d said.
Wait, really?
I looked at Kenny. I supposed he looked a tad older than eighteen. Odette must not realize she was talking to someone who was barely out of high school.
“Should we head back?” I asked Kenny. “The cash to pay you is at the house. We can order you some wings as hazard pay.”
He didn’t even glance away from Odette’s face. “Nah, I’ll stay here a little longer. I drove the van. We can square up later.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, “I’m going to need the car seat out of your van.”
That seemed to wake him up, at least. We got the car seat, and Jim and I headed home with Laurie.
“Lovestruck puppy,” I murmured as I closed my car door. “He can only get burned falling for a woman like that.”
“I don’t know.” Jim backed out of the parking lot. “I fell in love with a woman like that and somehow got her to marry me.”
I tried to scowl, but that man sure had a way of putting a smile on my face. “She’s older and won’t take him seriously,” I protested. Then I remembered. “Oh! We’re supposed to meet with Dave and Petunia tomorrow afternoon to go over some of the fundraiser plans, and I forgot to ask Kenny to babysit!”
“Just text him,” said Jim. “He won’t hear a word you’re saying if we drive back and ask him in person. He’s too twitterpated.”
“You’re not wrong,” I muttered, and fired off a text to Kenny.
We pulled into the driveway, and I was relieved to see that Jo-Jo’s truck was gone and the house was dark—no light peeking out through the garage door seam. He’d finally gone home.
I unbuckled a sleeping Laurie from her car seat, and we headed toward the door. She whimpered, and then curled into me and fell into a deeper sleep. A soft smile lit my face. It would be hard when I had a one-year-old and twin babies, but oh, how I loved being a mom. Jim unlocked the door, and we stepped inside.
And then the smell hit me.
“What on earth?” Jim exclaimed.
I made a guttural noise and staggered back. What is that smell? It was putrid, like the world’s worst poopy diaper had rotted and given birth to a whole army of rotten poopy diapers. Like a zombie apocalypse of poopy diapers.
The garage flood!
I ran into the kitchen. Jo-Jo had left a note on the counter.
Pipe busted was of sewer variety. Stayed late to fix, so not leaking anymore. Suggest opening windows and DO NOT OPEN DOOR TO GARAGE.
Nausea overcame me, and I bolted back outside and dry-heaved into the bushes while keeping a firm grip on Laurie.
A moment later, Jim joined me, his complexion a shade of green I’d never seen before.
“How much you want to bet that Laurie’s head bump was just the final straw and Kenny was fleeing that smell?” Jim asked.
“He could have at least given us a warning!” I looked hopelessly at the house. “What will we do? We can’t . . . sleep in that!”
“I opened the windows,” said Jim. “Let’s get a hotel tonight.”
“And leave the windows open? What if someone breaks in?”
Jim laughed aloud. “Think they’re gonna stick around in that smell to steal anything? There are plenty of available burglary jobs in the city that don’t require a trip to Sewer Sauna.”
He was right. We couldn’t stay overnight. “My mom will put us up,” I said. “It’ll be crowded, but we can bring Whiskers. I don’t want her stuck in that stench either.”
“Kenny still hasn’t texted me back,” I said the next morning as I sat at my mom’s table and stared morosely at my phone. “He always texts me back.”
A tendril of concern coiled in the back of my mind. Odd things had been happening at the studio recently. Should I be worried about Kenny? Whiskers jumped up in my lap and started kneading my jeans.
“Well, I’ll watch Laurie.” Mom set a cup of steaming coffee in front of me. “Decaf for you, my dear. I have to keep some around for Galigani, you know. You and Jim go to your meeting, and I’ll get in my grandma snuggles. Maybe we’ll even go shopping and pick out a few things for the twins.”
Dreadful visions filled my mind—two screaming squirrel buses to match the yodeling chipmunk bus. Or bags full of yarn in cacophonous, mismatched colors so my mom could knit the babies tiny caterpillar suits. Or . . .
But Mom was an excellent grandma, and I needed a babysitter. Though part of me wanted to just bring Laurie along to the meeting, I really needed to give Dave and Petunia my fu
ll attention. It was important to get this fundraiser right. “Thank you,” I said. “But really, you don’t need to go shopping. Just a quiet day—”
Mom waved off my objections, and I didn’t try to argue. If she was going to be free babysitting, they could do what she wanted for the day.
Besides, there would be no dissuading her.
Jim strolled out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower. “Laurie still sleeping?” he asked, kissing me on the forehead and glancing toward the portable crib that Mom kept around.
“She went back to sleep after she nursed this morning,” I said, scratching Whiskers on the chin. “Looks like her head bonk is going to be just fine. Mom’s going to babysit while we meet with Dave and Petunia.”
Laurie started fussing, and Mom jumped to her feet and pulled her out of the portable crib before I could react. “I’ll watch her now,” she said. “You guys still need to prep for the meeting, right?”
Several hours later, we walked into the studio for our two o’clock meeting. Jim carried a folio holding three different sample flyers—I’d made sure that each and every one of them spelled public correctly—and I had a legal pad and three color-coded pens.
“Back here!” called Dave.
We walked down the hall, past several dance rooms, and found the office at the back of the building. Piles of paper rose like skyscrapers from the desk, and Dave and Petunia were staring at a laptop screen. Petunia’s face could only be described as frazzled. But when we stepped through the doorframe, she managed a tired wave.
“Thanks so much for coming!” Dave exclaimed. “I think we’ve hit a wall on what we can do without a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Let’s dig in!” said Jim. “Dave, can we finalize the marketing posters while Kate and Petunia talk logistics—ticket sales, radio promotions, dance floor layout?”
Dave and Jim conferred near the computer, and Petunia and I pulled up chairs to the other end of the desk. Petunia drummed her fingers on the desk and gestured to my notepad. “Do we want to get layout down first? That way we know how many people we can accommodate, which will help us figure out how many tickets to sell?”
I uncapped a green pen and nodded at her. “How many square feet of space do we have?”
“So, our dance rooms are separated by dividers, not solid walls, so we’ll take those out to make a giant dance floor. That will give us—”
A feminine shriek sounded from somewhere in the building, and I whirled toward the sound. Then I heard the scuffling of running feet, and two figures appeared in the doorway. Odette, her blonde ponytail flying out behind her, and . . .
“Kenny?” I demanded.
Kenny’s eyes were wide, and Odette was blubbering like she might be about to burst into hysterics. She lurched for the small office trash can and vomited into it.
“Come quick,” said Kenny in a strained voice. “Someone’s been murdered.”
Chapter 6
“Murdered?” squeaked Petunia.
But I was already shoving past Kenny and Odette. “No one touch anything!” I yelled. “Dave, call 911. Jim, call Galigani. Kenny, show me the body.”
That strange Hangman note. The memory whirled in my head. It hadn’t just been harassment. It had been a warning.
A deadly serious warning.
I started off at a run and then slowed down to a dignified jog to avoid jostling the babies too much.
Kenny caught up to me. “This way.”
I followed him into the second dance room on the hall. The light was on, and on the far side, the costume closet door was open, and a pair of feet were sticking out.
Taking a breath to steel myself, I strode toward the body. It was a man, wearing a suit, lying on his stomach.
With a knife sticking out of his back.
Well, I guess that’s why they concluded it was murder.
My heart sank at the familiar head of gray hair. “Oh, no. Leo,” I whispered.
The grumpy British dance teacher had danced his last tango.
I took a deep breath and walked in a slow circle around the body, careful to not touch anything. “Tell me everything,” I said to Kenny. “You said you found him.”
Kenny audibly gulped. “Yeah. Odette and I’d been working on a music video all day.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, and he protested, “I’m doing a jazzy tuba cover of ‘Billie Jean,’ and I thought it’d be classy to film clips of some real ballroom dancing.”
“Do you know how to dance ballroom?” I squatted next to poor Leo and visually inspected the knife wound. Something didn’t look quite right about it—maybe it was just the dark suit jacket, but it seemed like there wasn’t enough blood for the knife to have been the killing blow. Galigani would know if I was onto something or not.
“’Course!” said Kenny, puffing out his chest when I glanced his direction. Then he glanced down at the body and grimaced. “I mean, not as well as Odette or anything. But I’m a musician. I got rhythm. I held my own.”
“Okay, right. Sorry. So, you were out with Odette, and then you came here for . . .”
“Costuming,” said Kenny. “We’d worked out most of the choreography, and Odette said we could borrow some costumes from the studio.”
I glanced back toward the open closet door and the shelves brimming with colorful, sparkly fabrics.
The costume closet. We’d just been here the day before looking at the hole in the roof.
Careful to not tip forward, I stood and strode into the closet, then looked up. The tarp had been torn away, and a big rope net dangled from the ceiling.
Interesting. That was new. I snapped a few pictures on my cell phone.
“Kate!” Galigani called from behind me.
I turned around and waved at him. “Oh, I’m so glad you got here before the homicide detectives did. Tell me what you see.”
His lips were set in a grim line as he looked at the body. “Someone stabbed him in the back when he was already dead to make us think he was killed by a knife.”
I pumped my fist, then realized we had an audience, and regained a sober, respectful expression. Petunia and Dave, Jim and Eddie, Odette, and two dance teachers I didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. Odette’s face was a peculiar shade of green, and Jim placed a comforting arm on her shoulder.
“I thought that might be the case,” I said quietly. “About the wound. It didn’t look right to me.”
Galigani shot me an approving look. “You’re learning.”
Dave took a tentative step toward us. “Is that . . .”
“It’s Leo,” I called. “I’m so sorry.”
For his part, Dave looked every bit as nauseated as Odette. “Was he . . .”
“It looks like murder,” said Galigani. “And a murder someone went through the trouble to stage afterward, so it would draw attention to itself. Do you have any enemies? Someone who would want to see your business taken down?”
Sirens wailed outside, and a few moments later, a couple of cops and Nick Dowling, the medical examiner, came into the room. I made a face at Sergeant McNearny’s appearance—he and I had butted heads from the beginning—but I was relieved to see my friend Deb Fisher with him.
Deb shot me a broad smile. “Heard it was Jim who called it in, and figured you’d be here somehow, so I hitchhiked with Sergeant McGrumpy.”
“I heard that,” grumbled McNearny.
“I rest my case,” said Deb with a grin.
“Galigani, what do we know?” McNearny squatted by the body.
“You’ll have to ask Kate. She was here when they found him.”
McNearny sighed dramatically. “Of course she was. She’s like a vulture with a sixth sense for where a dead body’s gonna fall out of the sky.”
“I think this one might have really fallen out of the sky,” I retorted. “Get a look at this hole in the roof. Kenny here and Odette, the blonde over there, found him.”
Two more cops came in, and Deb waved at them. “
Yo, let’s secure the crime scene!”
McNearny pulled Kenny aside to take his statement. Kenny repeated what he’d told me about the music video, and then added, “When we opened the door to the costume closet, the body fell to the ground right in front of us.”
“That might mean the killer dumped the body just at the wrong time, when someone happened to be opening the closet,” Galigani said. “Which could give us a good place to start for an alibi.”
“Or it could mean the killer rigged the body to fall as soon as the closet door was opened,” Deb said, shining a flashlight on something inside. “And I think it’s the latter. Look at this.” I followed her in, and she pointed to a hook on the backside of the door and the rope netting I’d noticed earlier.
“The net is connected to the back of the door on one side!” I exclaimed.
“And to the ceiling on the other side. As soon as the door was pushed inward, bam! Falling body.”
I walked back onto the dance floor. The other cops had cordoned off the area with caution tape and were now taking statements from Odette and Petunia.
Dave was sitting along the back wall, his shoulders slumped.
“Dave!” I called, striding toward him. “How often is the costume closet used?”
“A lot when our students are headed off to competitions or leading up to our recitals, but we didn’t have anything on the schedule for the next couple of weeks. No reason we’d have opened it until we were assigning costumes for the fundraiser.”
“Is it usually locked?” I stopped when I reached him.
“No. We don’t keep it locked. Kate.” His voice took on an intensity I’d never heard from him before. “Will you solve this for us? Will you take the case? I can’t pay a lot right now, but if we do a payment plan . . .”
“I’d be happy to take the case,” I said. “And don’t worry about the money. We’ll work something out. Maybe if the fundraiser makes more than enough money to cover Sharon’s fertility treatments, you can pay me half of whatever is left.”
“No, that might not be any money at all. I can’t ask—”