“Hush, Killer. That’s not how you behave in a theater.” Millie tugged at the leash. Killer went mute. It was an amazing trick that never worked for anyone but my aunt. With a grin, she said, “He’s just excited. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s here for a dog show.”
I was pretty sure he thought he was looking at dinner. But hey, I could be wrong.
“Thanks for bringing these.” I took the three bags from my aunt. Killer stood and grumbled. Millie tugged on the leash a little harder than she had before. Killer whined and sat back down. Score one for theater etiquette. Now, if only there were a way to silence cell phones during a performance in the same manner.
Millie turned that steely glance at me. “So why did you really ask me to come down here?”
“I told you—”
“The hats. And rehearsing with them is a great idea, but something else is bothering you. Is it the woman we found last night?” Millie gave my arm a squeeze. “Thinking about her has given me several bad minutes. Have the police found the person who was driving the car?”
“Not that I know of.” No doubt I would have heard. “And I’m fine, Aunt Millie.” Or I would be if Christine called off her threat to have my team blackballed in the opening round.
“Well . . .” My aunt sighed. “I guess if anyone would be able to handle finding a dead body, it would be you.”
The sad thing was that Millie was right. What did it say about my life that I had practice finding corpses?
Millie’s eyes narrowed behind her pink frames. “So, if it isn’t the dead body that’s causing those frown lines, what is? And don’t think you can fool me with one of those stories you used to spin when you were a little girl. I can tell when you aren’t telling the truth.”
Sadly, this was mostly true. Though I’d taken lots of acting classes, using my skills on Millie always felt . . . well . . . icky. I was better at withholding the truth from her than creating an entirely new version of it. Unfortunately, the look Millie was giving me now was the one she used in business when her more affluent clients claimed they couldn’t afford to place a new order unless they got a discount. The last time I saw Millie use that expression, the client not only paid full price but ordered twice the amount she’d intended.
Which was why I found myself pulling Millie over to the side of the lobby and quietly explaining my predicament and Christine’s use of blackmail to enlist my help. When I finished, I braced myself for Millie’s reaction. The last time someone had threatened me, my aunt was ready to call everyone from the principal of Prospect Glen to the chief of police in order to fix the problem. (How the chief of police was going to convince the school board not to fire me from my show choir job was still a mystery to me.)
Millie’s jaw clenched. Her eyes narrowed. I waited for the explosion. Instead, she let out a sigh and said, “Well, I don’t like her tactics, but I can’t blame the woman for enlisting your help in this mess.”
I blinked. “You’re not upset?” I felt like I’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. Millie’s impassioned defense of me was something I’d not only expected but had come to rely on.
“The aunt in me is furious, but the businesswoman understands.” Killer inched toward me. Millie barely glanced his way as she yanked the leash. “When someone’s threatening your business, the head of that business is required to use the resources available to her to fix the problem. If she had more time, I’m sure she’d have come up with a different solution. But the competition starts tomorrow. She needs someone who is here and has the skills to help. That’s you.”
Skills? What skills? I had a master’s degree in opera performance. That wasn’t exactly the stuff private investigators were made of.
“So, what’s your plan and how can I help?” Millie asked.
Plan? There was no plan.
“I need to ask Christine whether the contest has a history of sabotage in the past. If not, then I have a suspect.” Scott was involved in something. The question was what. “The person I think is involved told me he and another coach are orchestrating a meeting between Christine and some new sponsors. If that happens, Christine won’t need me to investigate.”
“But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop.” Millie plopped a hand on her hip. “If you don’t know who the perpetrator is, how can you make sure they won’t strike again? Your team could be next.”
The same thought had crossed my mind, which was why I’d considered asking Aldo and Killer to hang around the staging room once our costumes were loaded in. I’d have asked Millie, but she actually knew how to control Killer’s impulse to behave like his name. With Aldo in charge, Killer would be free to do his worst. Typically that behavior was reserved for me, but I was happy to share the fun with whoever was behind the costume catastrophes.
Unfortunately, Millie wasn’t done raining on my parade. Giving me a sad shake of the head, she said, “Christine won’t be willing to risk losing her current sponsors no matter what promises those directors make about new ones. Negotiating deals with sponsors takes time. Discussions over the terms could take weeks if not months.”
I had twenty-four hours.
Well, crap.
“So much for that idea.” I sighed and looked down at Killer. His puffy tail wagged with delight at my plight. Watching me suffer was almost as good as gnawing on me. “I just don’t want my team to pay the price if I can’t figure this out in time.”
“Well, maybe that’s where I can help.” Millie smiled. “Why don’t you let me talk to the head of the program? I know people who are looking for ways to support the arts and education. I can’t promise that they’ll be willing to write checks, but I can guarantee they won’t consider sponsoring the competition if your team isn’t treated fairly.”
I shook my head. “She might think that you’re bribing her to give my team an extra advantage in the competition.”
Getting a low score we didn’t earn would suck, but so would being awarded an inflated one. I understood that in show business, who a person knew was often more important than talent. Hell, despite my desire to get by without using personal connections or networking, my role in The Messiah was in part due to Aunt Millie. Had I known that when I accepted the role, I might have done something stupid—like turning it down just to prove a point. I’m glad I hadn’t been given the chance to make that mistake. But while many of these kids would figure out the benefits of networking along the way, right now I wanted them to learn about the payoff hard work and execution received.
Millie frowned. “I’d never use blackmail to cheat high school kids.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Blackmail was too obvious for my aunt. Despite the color of her car and her shoes, Millie knew how to be sneaky.
“Good. Because all I intend to do is make sure that Christine knows other options are open to her in case you can’t find the person responsible before the preliminaries start.”
If that was all Millie was going to do, I had no reason to object. “The teams are at lunch now. Christine should be around when rehearsals begin. I’ll introduce you to her then.”
“It’ll be best if Killer and I introduce ourselves. That way she understands you have nothing to do with the discussion. It will be just between us two businesswomen.”
Fair enough.
Millie gave a satisfied nod. “If the conversation goes as I believe it will, you won’t have to feel guilty when you need to step away from the investigation to focus on your team or go to your audition on Friday morning.”
My stomach lurched. “How do you know about the audition?” I’d wanted to mention it to Millie last night, but after discovering LuAnn’s body, discussion of audition logistics seemed frivolous.
“When your phone was going to voice mail, your manager called the house number. He wanted to make sure I told you to call him immediately, since he was worried you wouldn’t be able to juggle
your schedule and make this opportunity.” She gave me a stern look. “I assured him you’d be there even if I had to drive you to the stage door myself.”
Auditionees didn’t go through the stage door. They went through the front just like anyone else who hadn’t been hired to perform in the show. Still, I appreciated Millie’s point if not the slick coat of guilt I felt at the thought of my students’ reactions when they realized I had to leave Nashville.
“You do plan on going to the audition, right?” Millie let the leash go slack, and Killer took it as a sign he was allowed to get up.
I took a step back, just in case. “My flight is tomorrow night after the preliminaries.”
“Good.” She smiled. “After The Messiah I knew it was only a matter of time before you got your next big shot. Alan sounded very positive about this audition. You should be, too. Have you decided what you’re going to sing?”
“I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it.”
“The director will love you no matter what you sing.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “I just feel guilty leaving. The kids have worked really hard to get here.”
“You’ve worked hard, too. You deserve your chance. I’m sure Devlyn said the same thing when you told him.”
“Told me what?”
My heart sank as Devlyn strolled up next to me with a McDonald’s bag in one hand and a large Diet Coke in the other. I sent Millie a look warning her that I hadn’t shared my news with Devlyn, but she either misread the expression or didn’t care because she said, “We’re talking about the audition Paige has on Friday with the Lyric Opera in Chicago.”
Devlyn went still. “You’re leaving in the middle of the competition to go to an audition?”
The disappointment in his eyes made my palms sweat. “I’ll be here for the preliminary round and then fly back in time—”
The McDonald’s bag dropped to the ground. Killer lunged for it as Devlyn walked away without a backward glance. Millie let out an exasperated sigh. Killer chowed on the still-wrapped cheeseburger. I watched Devlyn go, wondering whether his departure meant I’d just lost a whole lot more than my lunch.
Chapter 14
“Chessie, make sure you set yourself directly in front of the second set of risers.” I nodded as she shifted her position. “Does that look good to you, Devlyn?”
I looked out into the audience and cupped a hand over my eyes in an attempt to locate his position in the back of the theater.
“It looks good from here, Paige,” Larry yelled. “If you’re happy with it, we should start running the program. We only have thirty minutes to work out any problems before tomorrow’s preliminary competition.”
“Let’s run it,” I yelled back, pushing my annoyance at being ignored by Devlyn into the background. If he wanted to be unprofessional, so be it. I, for one, was going to do my job. “Places, everyone. Megan . . .”
She turned and looked at me. I could tell she was still struggling vocally, but I could also see how badly she wanted to do this rehearsal. If I pulled her in favor of her sister, I had a feeling she would fall apart. Not something I wanted for her in this last rehearsal of her senior year.
“You can dance the numbers, but I don’t want you to sing,” I said. Megan’s mouth spread into a delighted smile as she nodded and took her position. “Claire?”
“I’m back here.”
Claire stood up from her seat in the middle of the house. “Could you stand in the wings and sing Megan’s part? It’ll help me determine if we have the right balance between the choir and the band.”
Claire hurried down the aisle and climbed the stairs to the stage. By the time she was standing next to one of the curtain legs, the choir was in their opening poses, ready to go. I hopped down from the stage and stood in the front row as Jim raised his baton. The band lifted their instruments. Their hats sparkled in the stage lights. Jim counted off the tempo and motioned for the music to start.
The opening notes filled the theater. The kids began to twirl. I watched as they sang, shimmied, and strutted through the first song. Then the second. Finally, they performed the lifts of the last number and hit their final poses. Breathing hard, they waited for the band to cut off before dropping their positions and looking to me for what I thought.
Not perfect, but not bad. Exactly what a dress rehearsal should be. Performing in front of an audience always provided an adrenaline burst that gave the choir more energy and spark. If they sang this well tomorrow, there was no doubt in my mind that Music in Motion would make the finals on Friday. Unless, of course, Christine told the judges to score us down. I could only hope that either Millie worked her magic or I managed to single out the costume culprit before then.
“Everything looks good.” I checked the clock on my cell phone. We still had fifteen minutes of rehearsal time. Good. We needed another run. This time with Megan’s understudy. “We’re going to go through the program one more time. Megan, could you take a seat? I want Claire to run it just in case.”
Megan’s shoulders slumped as she walked to the escape stairs. Claire took her sister’s place on the stage next to Megan’s partner. Her face was a mask of determination when I yelled for Jim to cue the band.
As always, Claire performed her dance steps flawlessly. In that area, she was more gifted than her sister. No matter how many dance classes Megan took, she still wasn’t confident in that area of performance. I hoped Megan would find the confidence she needed when she went away to college. The one thing she didn’t need help with, however, was letting her personality shine through when she was onstage. Megan’s smile and bubbly nature were huge assets for our team. Her sister—well, I’d been working on Claire’s facial expressions. The good news was she no longer looked as if she wanted to kill her dance partner. The bad news was that smile I’d finally convinced her to wear looked slightly unhinged. With luck, Megan would be able to go on tomorrow. If not, I only hoped some of the judges found the deranged look appealing.
When the music ended, I climbed back onto the stage. Larry and Megan followed. I waited a minute to see whether Devlyn would join us. When I didn’t see him walking down the theater aisles toward the front of the house, I turned back to the kids. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow shift in the wings stage right. Had Devlyn gone backstage? Nope. Devlyn was in the middle of the house, standing with his arms crossed. Huh.
I stopped closer to the stage-right wing and squinted into the dimness beyond the curtain legs. There. Someone was back there, watching us from backstage. The fly rail was on the other side along with the security guard, so I knew it wasn’t him moving from behind the leg to the exit.
Drat. He was gone. Oh well.
Turning, I said, “Our program is in great shape.” Relieved smiles spread across the team’s faces as they gave one another high fives and whispered excited comments.
Holding up my hand for silence, I continued. “But, we have some little things I’d like to iron out tonight after dinner. Claire—I’d like you and your partner to run the transition into the second lift a few times. It looks a little awkward. Also, Chessie, on the third song you and Eric looked like you had some trouble making it to the other side of the stage in time to start the second verse. What happened?”
As the band began putting away their instruments, Chessie and Eric talked about the traffic pattern problem they had.
“Okay,” I said, “we’ll take a look at that back at the hotel. The bus will be leaving in thirty minutes from the front of the theater.” From what I’d heard, the police had given the okay for people to use the loading docks, but the one on our side of the theater had yet to be repaired. At least that was the excuse I was using for having the kids load and unload the buses up front. Truth was, I didn’t want them wandering around the area where LuAnn Freeman had been killed. And face it, I wasn’t all that interested in seeing where I’d tried and
failed to save her again anytime soon.
The clang of the theater doors opening announced the next team’s arrival. I saw Donna Hilty in her white cowboy boots sauntering down the aisle toward us and told my team that it was time to vacate the stage. It was Donna’s team’s turn. And I was curious to see how they’d perform.
“I’d like everyone to help the band carry their instruments and store them in my room. You’ll then have time to rest—and when I say rest I mean it—before dinner. Once dinner is over, we’ll run things one last time.”
Under Jim’s direction, the kids worked fast to get the instrument cases off the stage and move them to the front of the lobby. Larry promised to keep an eye on both the instruments and the students as they waited for the bus to arrive, which left me free to duck back into the theater and watch from the back as Donna’s team took the stage.
They had rearranged the risers so that their band was situated on stage right. The instrumentalists were talented. The singers even more so. The dancing . . . Well, unless the choreography got more complicated in the next two songs, I wasn’t worried about them outscoring us.
From my spot in the back, I watched as Donna called a halt to the performance, fixed a spacing issue, and told the kids to reset and do it again. They ran the number a second time. Another stop and fix. Then a third. Donna sounded more disinterested with every correction, and each time through, I noticed the kids making more mistakes than the last. The students’ smiles were tense as they went through it a fourth time. I glanced at my watch. Only ten more minutes until the next team arrived. They’d have to run the three required songs straight through if Donna planned on giving her kids the chance to rehearse all the numbers onstage.
“Let’s stop here.”
So much for getting the opportunity to dance and sing through all the numbers. Shoulders tensed and hands clenched as Donna picked apart the routine, shifted positions, and made the kids run the number again. They barely had a chance to execute the first sixteen bars (which now looked stiff and riddled with missteps) before Donna yelled hold and started reworking the staging again.