Between the instrument cases (which I noticed were stacked far more neatly by the students than ever before), racks of costumes, and Millie’s hair and makeup emporium, the staging room was uncomfortably full. When you added fourteen students, the ten band members, four directors, Millie, Aldo, and Killer to the mix, it was a recipe for bedlam. Killer had been scheduled to stay at the hotel, but apparently his time alone yesterday had been spent eating the hotel’s extra-fluffy pillows. Which meant he was up a lot of the night, throwing up those extra-fluffy pillows. To prevent an exorbitant hotel bill and a trip to the vet, Killer was now curled in the corner watching the madness. Lucky us.
The boys got dressed in their black pants, white shirts, and satin vests while the girls had their hair set, brushed, styled, and squirted with enough hair spray to eat a hole through the ozone layer. The environment might suffer, but the girls’ hair wasn’t going to lose its curls. We had that going for us.
When Millie cracked open a second can of hair spray, I used the excuse that Killer needed a walk, grabbed his leash, and bolted for the door in search of fresh air. Kids raced up and down the hall. Some were in jeans. Others were already decked out in their competition attire. The preliminary performances would begin in an hour, and the energy level was high. Killer barked as the kids raced past. To make sure the dog didn’t mistake any of their shiny costumes for the fancy stuffed chew toys Millie liked to buy, I tugged on his leash and led him down the hall toward the loading dock so we could both get some air. At least, that was the story I was going to tell anyone who asked what I was doing.
I knew the cops were looking into LuAnn’s death, which meant I should pay attention to the competition and leave the investigating to them. But I couldn’t get Christine’s words about LuAnn’s involvement with the malfunctioning loading dock door out of my head. I probably wouldn’t learn anything, but it couldn’t hurt to take another look, right?
With the competition still more than an hour away, the backstage area was quiet. It felt dim and soothing after being in the middle of pre-show preparations. Killer growled at me and then walked back toward the door leading to the staging rooms. Killer liked chaos.
When I refused to give in to Killer’s scare tactics, he whined and followed me into the empty space on the stage side of the loading dock entrance. I walked toward the large metal door. Huh. I studied the exposed mechanism that caused the malfunction. Yeah—it wouldn’t be hard to jam something into the door to make it stop working. Of course, it was hard to imagine a reason why anyone would want to do that. Knowing that LuAnn was the one who discovered the malfunction made me wonder whether she didn’t have something to do with it. She was, after all, the one who masterminded the costume issues. But without LuAnn around to ask, it was impossible to know whether she was behind this problem, too.
I took one last look at the door and then looked at my watch. The first performers would take the stage in forty-five minutes. It was time to go back and make sure my kids were ready.
“Come on, Killer.”
I tugged the leash, but the dog wouldn’t budge. Something on the floor near the door had caught his attention and he wasn’t ready to stop sniffing. I tugged again. Killer turned and bared his teeth. Great. High-strung teens and a dog that was ready to bite my hand off if I pulled him away from a stupid piece of paper on the ground. Could my day possibly get any better?
Wait a minute.
I gave Killer’s leash a hard yank. His head came up, and I made a grab for the piece of paper. Eureka. Killer growled. I grinned and stuck my tongue out. Juvenile? Absolutely. But I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t often I managed to outmaneuver Aunt Millie’s prized poodle. I had to take my victories where I could get them.
Killer made unhappy noises and leapt up to snatch the paper out of my hand, but I was quicker. I held the rectangular piece of paper up over my head, out of his very agile jumping reach, and tried to ignore his subsequent leaps as I struggled to read what was written on it.
CMHS Showstoppers
Ignoring the way Killer flopped his pompon butt onto the ground and began to howl, I turned the paper over. The back side was covered in dust and what looked like small bits of cardboard. This wasn’t paper. It was a label that must have come off of the boxes that the mechanic had pointed out to me yesterday. Boxes that, according to this label, belonged to the CMHS Showstoppers. I didn’t have to look at the program to know the acronym stood for Central Memphis High School.
Killer let out another howl. This one made the hair on my neck stand on end. Aunt Millie could make a fortune renting him out to haunted houses at Halloween. His werewolf imitation was dead-on and sure to draw attention. Something I wasn’t sure I wanted. Sliding the label into my pocket, I gave the leash another tug, hoping that the disappearance of the object of his desire would silence him.
No such luck.
Well, I couldn’t take a dog back to the staging room. And I couldn’t stay here. Not while he was making these sounds. I’d get accused of animal abuse or worse.
Sighing, I pushed the loading dock door button, watched it go up, and then stepped outside, dragging a still-yelping Killer behind me.
“I guess you just saved me the trouble of testing to see if the door works.”
I squinted into the sunlight and spotted the mechanic from yesterday standing next to a pickup truck parked in the loading zone. He was situated below the raised dock area where Killer and I were standing. I’d been so intent on the howling animal I was dragging behind me that I hadn’t noticed him standing there.
“Hey, boy,” the guy said, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding it out to the dog.
I was about to shout for him to be careful of Killer’s professionally whitened teeth when I noticed the piece of beef jerky extending from the man’s fingers. The werewolf imitation stopped as Killer nipped the dried meat out of the mechanic’s hands and happily chowed down.
Note to self: Carry meat products at all times.
“Thanks.” I gave the man a smile and looked down at the pocket of his shirt. The stitching said his name was Marshall. “Killer here was starting to get a little restless so I brought him outside.” Was I the master of understatement or what?
Marshall smiled back. “Not a problem, ma’am. I have a couple of dogs of my own. I don’t typically take them to the theater, though.”
“Oh, he’s not mine.” Killer looked up at me. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was injured at my disavowal of ownership. “My aunt decided to bring him here. He had some minor issues yesterday while being alone at the hotel.”
Killer, 4. Foam pillows, 0.
“So, Marshall, you’re the one we have to thank for fixing the loading dock door?”
He tipped his ball cap, climbed up the stairs, and joined Killer and me on the dock. “I can’t say I did much.”
“Well, all of us who have been waiting since Monday to have this door work thank you.”
Marshall’s left eyebrow rose. “You say the door hasn’t been working since Monday?”
“Well, it might have been malfunctioning longer. But our team got a message Monday morning from the theater telling us this loading dock wasn’t operational.”
“I wonder why they didn’t call to have it looked at sooner.”
“They did,” I said. At least, Christine thought LuAnn had called for assistance. “Whoever they talked to at your company said the earliest you could come out to look at the problem was yesterday.”
He frowned. “I took the call myself on Tuesday night. I offered to come out first thing the next morning, but she insisted that someone was using the space to store some boxes and they wouldn’t be out of there until Wednesday afternoon. She asked for me to come by then. Only the boxes were still there when I arrived and I had to move them out of the way. The man who picked up the boxes was apologetic for running late and making me go
to the trouble.”
Killer sniffed at Marshall’s hand. Absently, Marshall reached into his pants pocket and pulled out another piece of jerky. Meanwhile, I considered the importance of his words.
“Did you catch the man’s name?”
“If I did, I can’t recall.”
Before Marshall could wonder why I was so interested, I asked, “Would you mind telling me what he looked like?”
“Dark skin. Short hair. I’d guess he was around my grandson’s age. Or maybe I just thought he was in his early twenties because he was wearing a University of Tennessee sweatshirt.” He smiled again. “My grandson wears his all the time. The two don’t look anything alike, but the boy was polite, just like my Jimmy. And he seemed so upset that he was late and I had to move boxes that I offered him a hand carrying the boxes to his car. The boxes weren’t very big, but they were sure heavy.”
“Did you happen to look in the boxes?” He stiffened and I hurried to add, “I know when I move boxes at our school, they aren’t always sealed well. The flaps have a tendency to come up, which gives me a peek inside. If the boxes weren’t sealed, I figured you might have gotten a glimpse of whatever was packed in them.”
Marshall didn’t look convinced with my improv skills. “Why would that be important to you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Good question. Lucky for me I had a good answer. “I was wondering if maybe you should talk to the police. You see, the woman who called you also packed those boxes. She was killed not too far from where your car is parked. The cops are inside right now, interviewing people to determine whether her death was an accident or something more.”
“Holy crap.” He blushed and tipped his cap again. “Pardon my language, ma’am. I was surprised. And I guess maybe I should talk to the police. The jars in those boxes weren’t marked. At first I thought they were empty, but the minute I picked up one of the boxes I realized they were filled with clear liquid. Probably some kind of fancy water. People are always paying lots of money for fancy water from mountain glaciers or some kind of special pond even though they could use the stuff from the tap for free. I guess it takes all kinds.”
It did indeed.
I gave Marshall the name of the lead detective on LuAnn’s case and suggested he enter the building from the lobby instead of back here. Unless, of course, he wanted to have an epileptic seizure from looking at all the sequins and rhinestones that would be glistening in the halls. Marshall gave Killer one last piece of beef jerky before walking to his car. I watched him drive off and then went back inside the theater.
Hitting the button to the loading dock, I watched the door come down and thought about the boxes that had been stashed here earlier this week—presumably by LuAnn. The same person who discovered the loading dock door on this side of the stage wasn’t working. Coincidence? I doubted it, especially after knowing she was the mastermind behind the costume destruction. She was the one who’d discovered the ruined clothing. Her outrage and very loud accusations automatically shifted focus away from anyone considering the possibility she might be involved.
Smart. Something told me she had been equally smart when it came to sabotaging the loading dock. Christine said LuAnn volunteered to check the doors to make sure they were in working order. Suddenly, one door wasn’t working. Yeah, I wasn’t buying the coincidence.
But why prevent this door from opening? What good would it serve? Yes, it inconvenienced those of us with staging rooms on this side of the building, but we were still able to get our costumes and instruments loaded into the theater through one of the other doors. Did she hope the frustration of the extra work would distract some of the teams enough that mistakes would be made? That seemed far-fetched.
So what was special about this place?
I studied the large loading dock area again. Cement floor. Metal door. Lots of empty space between here and the large retractable door that led to the stage. When touring companies arrived, they used that enormous door to bring in their set pieces. Those doors weren’t opened for our groups. Instead, we used the normal-sized door that led to the staging room hallway. There was no reason for anyone to come into this area unless to load or unload something into the staging rooms or the theater. With the door not working, people automatically went to the other loading dock. Especially since there had been signs posted all over the place to serve as reminders that this door was out of order.
If I wanted to store something in this building that wouldn’t be in anyone’s way, the off-limits loading dock would be the place to do it. So, what had LuAnn wanted kept out of sight? The boxes were marked with CMHS stickers, but the Showstoppers team had a room to store their belongings. And I couldn’t imagine LuAnn or anyone on the team would want to leave some of their things where other teams could potentially damage them. And face it: If Marshall was right and the jars were filled with fancy water, the singers would want to keep those nearby. What good was having several cases of special water in tow if it wasn’t close enough for use?
My gut told me water wasn’t the clear liquid inside those jars. Otherwise LuAnn wouldn’t have hidden them back here or disabled the loading dock until she arranged for someone to pick the boxes up.
But I was still no closer to understanding why.
Unless LuAnn’s ghost was haunting this area and decided to give me guidance, I wasn’t going to learn anything standing here. Besides, the show would start in half an hour. The police would just have to find the answer to that question on their own. I had a choir to coach and a competition to win.
Chapter 21
The team had never looked better. The girls’ silver, blue, and white dresses accented with rhinestones looked fabulous. The boys in their black pants, silver and blue cummerbunds, vests, and bow ties looked dashing. Thanks to Aunt Millie’s practiced hand, the makeup and hairstyles looked as if they’d come right off the glossy pages of a fashion magazine. Even the band members with their new accessories looked as if they belonged stepping onto a Broadway stage. Well, this stage wasn’t as well-known as the ones lining Times Square, but in terms of importance to these kids, it couldn’t be any bigger.
Larry held up his hand to quiet the team. The clock on the wall above him said the first team would take the stage in less than five minutes. Once they were done, we’d have ten minutes to set the risers, get the band in place, and put the pieces needed for the planned costume changes in the wings. Then it would be our turn to impress.
“I just want to tell you how proud I am to be standing here with you today.” Larry beamed. “No matter what the scores say, I think you’re all winners.”
The clichéd speech made a couple of the boys roll their eyes. But while the words might be unoriginal, the joy on Larry’s face was undeniable. He had wanted this moment for these kids badly enough that he’d swallowed his pride, admitted his skills weren’t strong enough to help this team win, and gone out in search of someone who could. He went looking for a teacher who wouldn’t accept less than the best. It was still hard to believe that he had hired me. This was a job I’d never wanted and had thought I was ill-suited for. Yet, here I was, taking my turn standing in front of this team who had worked so hard and come so far.
Would this group impress the judges enough to make it to the final round? It was time to find out.
“Don’t forget: I want you to have good diction, lots of emotion, and, most important, you need to have fun. If you’re having fun . . .” I let my voice trail off and smiled as the kids said in unison, “The judges will have fun, too.”
A year ago, I would have laughed if someone had said I would be standing here enjoying this moment. Just goes to show how far I had come.
“Okay,” I said, lifting my eyes to the clock. “Then let’s put on a show they’ll never forget.”
Claire stumbled on a turn. Eric almost missed a step walking down the riser and had to check his balance. And the costu
me change into the third number left Jeffrey without a bow tie. Minor mistakes. All things that had happened in past competitions. We’d taken first in every one of them. But this was the best of the best. I could only hope that the strong singing, complicated lifts, and high-energy dancing eclipsed the missteps enough to see us through to the next round.
When the kids had changed out of their costumes and had hung them back on the racks, they headed for the theater to watch the rest of the teams perform. I was about to go, too, when Devlyn touched my arm.
“They did good.”
I nodded. “It wasn’t perfect.”
“The judges won’t notice. Remember, the closer you are to something, the easier it can be to see the flaws.” His expression turned serious. “What time’s your flight?”
The reminder of my own upcoming performance made my stomach roil. “Five thirty. The scores should be posted before I leave for the airport.”
“If not, I’ll make sure you learn the results.” He looked as if he wanted to say something more but shook his head.
The silence stretched for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally, I broke it. “I guess we should go see what our competition is doing.”
“Yeah. We should do that.”
The lobby was devoid of all but a few stragglers getting tickets at Will Call. As I pulled open the door to the theater, Devlyn put his hand on my shoulder before I could head inside.
“Paige, in case I don’t get another chance to tell you—good luck tomorrow.” He gave me a sad smile. “I hope you get everything you want. You deserve it.”
He went to take his seat. I did the same, understanding the words for what they were. Not just a wish of luck, but a way of saying good-bye. As I slid into one of the spots in the back, I realized I wasn’t upset. Breaking up with Devlyn was sad, but my heart wasn’t broken, which said louder than words what I should have known all along. The two of us didn’t belong together. We needed to move on.