Murder for Choir

  I was about to look for an e-mail address when I clicked on a blog post titled “My New Job.” Turns out, two months ago Jimmy became the manager of Pete’s Pizza and Prizes in Crystal Lake, Illinois. My watch read eleven o’clock. Kids should be busy playing games and getting nauseated from the pizza by now. I picked up the phone and dialed.

  Yes, Jimmy Waldorf was currently one of the managers there. Would I like to speak with him?

  Ha! I hung up the phone and grabbed my purse. With construction and traffic, getting to Crystal Lake would take me an hour or more. I peeked in on Aunt Millie, who was still sleeping, and dialed the vet to check on Killer. The angry growling in the background assured me better than the doctor that Killer was recovering just fine. Time to hit the road.

  I opened the front door and almost plowed into Devlyn. Today he sported white tennis shorts and a pink short-sleeved golf shirt with a white, pink, and gray paisley ascot draped around his neck.

  “I guess I came at a bad time.” He gave me a wide smile. “Looks like you’re in a hurry.”

  Felicia’s drunken musings replayed in my head. Trying not to look freaked, I asked, “How did you know where I live?”

  “I’m stalking you.” He laughed as I took a step backward. “Sorry. Bad joke considering the week we’ve had. Your address is listed in the faculty directory.” His smile faded. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

  If Devlyn was the one who broke into the house yesterday, he was doing a great job of acting clueless. Either he was an outstanding acting teacher or he was innocent.

  Sighing, I admitted, “Someone broke into the house last night and injured my aunt’s dog.”

  Devlyn’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Are you okay? Were you and your aunt at home when it happened?”

  I explained the events of last night, complete with inviting Felicia over for a sleepover. “The good news is Aunt Millie’s dog will be fine and the cops are working on finding the person responsible.”

  “And what are you doing?”

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  Devlyn crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know you well, but I am certain you’re not the type to sit on the sidelines and wait for someone to solve your problems. Where were you headed when I showed up?”

  Busted.

  I blew a lock of hair off my forehead and said, “I was looking into Greg’s past. I thought it might help me figure out why he was murdered. Did you know Greg and Larry were best friends in college?” Devlyn’s look of horror made me laugh. “I tracked down a guy who knew them both in college. I figured I’d ask him a few questions and see if I turn up anything.”

  I waited for Devlyn to tell me to let the cops do the investigating. It was advice any sane person would give me. Instead, Devlyn said, “Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

  The Pete’s Pizza and Prizes parking lot was packed. A techno-hip-hop-Disney remix was playing on the loudspeakers. Kids hopped up on greasy pizza and overly frosted cakes were racing around playing air hockey, video games, and Skee-Ball. Some frazzled parents attempted to keep up with the kids while desperately shooting longing gazes at the exit. Others sat at tables with the uneaten pizza, looking like they’d been run over by really big trucks. The slogan out front next to a picture of Pete, the fire-breathing dragon, read FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY.

  “What party?” the freckle-faced teenage boy peering out from the mouth of a dragon costume asked. He stood next to a gate at the entrance with a pen in one claw and a checklist in another.

  “We’re not with one of the parties,” I answered.

  Dragon-boy frowned. “What do you mean? Why else would you be here?”

  Good question. What sane person would come to a place like this if she didn’t have to? Saying that I was here investigating a murder probably wasn’t going to help my cause.

  Thank goodness Devlyn had an answer. “What my wife means is that we aren’t here for a party today. We’re planning one for our twins and wanted to see the environment while parties were in progress. We were told by one of the managers that we could stop by.”

  “The manager was Jim Waldorf,” I added. “He said he was working today. I’d love to talk with him if possible.”

  “Sure thing.” The dragon kid nodded and buzzed us through the gate. “We make sure all guests allowed inside are with a party or are here because they want to plan one. This helps keep the kids safe. Jim is right over there.” He pointed a claw in the direction of the dining area, and Devlyn and I headed over.

  The picture on the blog should have helped me identify Jim Waldorf. It didn’t. I asked a kid sporting a dragon T-shirt to point him out.

  Yowzah.

  The blog picture showed Jim Waldorf with wavy brown hair and two impish dimples making him look like a mischievous elf. The guy the kid pointed out was bald and looked a lot more like Santa than one of his helpers. Or maybe I just thought that because the guy was red. Bright red. Either Jim had gotten caught in a paint fight or he’d been out in the sun way too long. Ouch.

  Plastering a smile on my face, I dodged a couple kids racing to spend their tokens and headed for Jim. He saw us approach, smiled, and winced. I felt bad for the guy. Sunburn sucks.

  “Can I help you folks?” he asked.

  Devlyn spoke before I could. “My friend and I were hoping to get information about throwing a party for my niece and her friends.”

  I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that Devlyn had downgraded me from wife to friend. Yes, I was pathetic.

  Jim didn’t notice my chagrin. He just launched into his Pete’s Pizza spiel. Great games. Fabulous food. Reasonable prices. “The fall months are booking up fast. You’ll want to reserve a spot soon.” Jim finished his speech with a whoosh of air.

  A small person ran smack into Devlyn, did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin, and barreled off. Devlyn laughed. “My niece turns eight in December. Her birthday always gets buried with all the Christmas celebrations so I thought it would be nice to make it special for her this year. Now I have to convince my sister.”

  Wow. Devlyn could lie. I was both disconcerted and highly impressed.

  Jim pulled a card out of his back pocket and handed it to Devlyn. “The holiday party rush hasn’t started yet, so you can have your pick of dates. Give me a call when you get your sister’s approval. My name is Jim.”

  Devlyn handed me the card. It was my cue to start my own lie. “What a funny coincidence,” I said with a laugh. “A friend of ours just mentioned he was in a singing group with a guy named Jim Waldorf. Of course, that was in college years ago.”

  Jim’s eyes went wide. “I sang with an a cappella group in college.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone to U of I would you?” I said, trying to sound like I was making a joke. “I think that’s where Larry and Greg went to school.”

  “Larry and Greg?” Jim leaned forward.

  “My boss is a guy named Larry DeWeese. He’s a music teacher at Prospect Glen High School. Greg Lucas is a guy he used to sing with.”

  The minute I dropped Larry’s full name, Jim grabbed his chest and took a step backward. Or maybe he was reacting to the woman screaming at the top of her lungs near a Whac-A-Mole machine across the restaurant. Hard to tell.

  Several kids began to yell and race around like mad near the screaming woman as Jim asked, “Can you wait here a minute?” Before getting our reply, he dashed into the melee. The adult screaming stopped almost at once. The kids were having too much fun to settle down as quickly.

  After a few minutes, a sweating Jim trotted back over to us. “Thanks for waiting. A kid thought he dropped a sticker in the machine and tried to retrieve it, only he got his hand stuck in between the mole and the hole. His older brother was having fun bopping him with the pugil stick. Mom didn’t think any of it was funny.”

  That Jim could say this with a serious expression was a testimony to his professionalism.

  “I’m impressed you diffused the sit
uation so quickly,” Devlyn said with what sounded like genuine admiration.

  Jim mopped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You get used to these kinds of things around here.” He sighed, then brightened. “Thanks for sticking around. I sang with Larry and Greg in college. Those were the best years of my life. I’ve been trying to get the group back together for a reunion. After twenty years, those two can’t be holding a grudge anymore. Can they?”

  “A grudge?” What grudge?

  Jim ran a hand over his angry-looking scalp. “Larry and Greg had a falling out our senior year, and the group broke up right before the final concert. I tried to get them to fix the problem, but I just made things worse.”

  “What caused the rift?”

  He sighed. “Larry was the musical brains in the group. He composed all the original music we used and did arrangements on the cover songs. He liked to tell everyone that Greg helped with the songs, but I was in music theory with Greg. Trust me. There’s no way. His arrangements for class were terrible. So when I overheard Greg talking on the phone about selling some arrangements, I congratulated Larry.”

  “Only Larry didn’t know about the sale.”

  Jim looked ready to cry. “How was I to know Greg would tell people he wrote the arrangements? He was supposed to be Larry’s best friend.”

  “Did Larry confront Greg?”

  “Yeah. That’s when things got out of hand. Larry called Greg a thief. Greg told Larry he was too stupid to cash in on a good thing. I stopped Larry from jumping Greg and suggested they split the money. Larry looked like he’d be willing to take half and keep the friendship, but Greg refused. He said Larry couldn’t prove that he’d written the arrangements. That Larry had put Greg’s name on all of them. Greg then dared Larry to sue him. Greg walked out of the room, and he and Larry never talked again. At least, not during college. Hell, they even stopped talking to me.”

  I felt sorry for the big lug. Clearly, losing his friends and his a cappella group had ruined Jim’s senior year. Considering the Pete’s Pizza career path and his Whac-A-Mole rescuing prowess, I would guess it had even ruined his life.

  Devlyn clapped the guy on the shoulder, and Jim winced. Sunburn must be lurking under the green shirt, too.

  “Hey,” Jim’s face brightened. “Do you think you could tell the guys that you talked to me and pass along my number? It would be nice to get together with them and relive the glory days.”

  “I’ll tell Larry when I see him, but Greg…” Jim’s eyes were filled with hope. I felt like I was telling a five-year-old that there was no Easter Bunny when I said, “Greg died a few days ago. He was murdered.”

  “Well, that was interesting.” Devlyn glanced at me as he steered his car into traffic. “I’d say money and revenge are really good motives to commit murder.”

  “Maybe.” Funny, but now that I’d heard Jim’s story, I actually thought Larry was a less likely murder suspect. If a guy didn’t bean his backstabbing friend all those years ago, why would he suddenly change his mind now? I wasn’t buying the character shift. Then again, maybe Dana pushed Larry into killing her ex. Anything was possible.

  Devlyn raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think Larry did it?”

  “I think he’s a great suspect, but as my aunt says: I’m keeping my options open.”

  “What other options are we pursuing?”

  I blinked. “We?”

  Devlyn laughed. “Well, there are two of us in this car, and I did a pretty good job as wingman back there.”

  “I was impressed. The niece detail was a nice touch.”

  “Actually, that was the truth. I have a niece who would love to have a party there in December. Once I convince my sister, I’ll give Jim a call and book it. I’ll probably catch hell from my nephews, but I can take it.”

  “How many kids does your sister have?”

  “Two, but my brother has four more. All boys. How about you? Any siblings?”

  “One younger brother. Neither one of us are married, which is driving my mother nuts. Grandchildren are high on her priority list.”

  “You don’t want kids?”

  “I want a performance career, which means I meet guys who are either taken or gay.”

  He laughed. “Sounds about right. Enough about our families. Who’s the next suspect on the list?”

  “According to Felicia, you are,” I said half teasing, half waiting to see what his reaction would be. “She said you were in love with Greg Lucas.”

  Devlyn’s head swiveled. “She said what?” It was a good thing we were stopped at a light or Devlyn might have plowed into the car in front of us.

  “Felicia said you had a thing for Greg and you were upset that those feelings weren’t reciprocated.”

  “Was Felicia on heavy medication when she said this?”

  “She had had a couple glasses of wine, but she still seemed coherent. She was very certain that you were a victim of unrequited love and that it might have pushed you over the edge.”

  “I’ve felt a lot of different emotions about Greg over the years that could have led to murder, but love wasn’t one of them.” The look on Devlyn’s face made me believe him.

  “So, why would Felicia think you loved Greg?”

  “Got me.” The light turned green, and Devlyn hit the gas. “She and I talked about Greg once in a while, mostly after she got back from show choir tournaments. She was always the one who brought him up. If anyone had a thing for Greg, it was Felicia.”

  “Felicia was in love with Greg?”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it love. Felicia gravitates toward unhealthy relationships. A relationship with Greg is as unhealthy as it comes.”

  Dana Lucas was proof of that.

  “Do you think they had an affair?” Maybe Felicia was the mystery woman who broke up Greg and Dana’s marriage.

  “Doubt it. Felicia would have mentioned it. Besides, Greg liked women who are too young to vote or who could do something for his choir or his career. She wouldn’t have qualified.”

  If Felicia had feelings for Greg, watching him romance other women would have hurt. Poor thing. “What’s Felicia’s story? All I know about her is she teaches home economics and loves high heels.”

  “Felicia is a lot like you. She took the teaching job in order to pay the bills. Designing her own line of clothes is what she’s really shooting for. She’s been working at getting funding to put on her own show. Don’t know if it will happen, but I’d like to see her succeed.”

  “If the show ever happens, my aunt can provide the makeup design and a large number of country club women ready to fork over their credit cards.”

  Devlyn concentrated on driving while I stared out the window, trying to decide what to do next. As a performer, I was used to someone else providing the stage directions. This was the first time I’d ever had to improvise. I was finding it harder than expected.

  The car in front of us raced into the intersection as the light turned red, almost taking out a bicyclist in the process. The near accident made me think about Greg’s near-death experience with an automobile earlier in the year. It stood to reason that, having failed to kill Greg the first time, the person behind the wheel would take another whack at him. Maybe someone caught the make and model of the hit-and-run vehicle. If so, I could compare it to my suspects’ cars and hopefully find a match. To do that, I needed to see the incident report. I wasn’t sure whether Detective Kaiser would be in a sharing mood, but I was about to find out.

  Detective Mike wasn’t at the station. Not surprising since it was a Saturday. The freckle-faced cop manning the front desk looked like he still had to ask permission to borrow the family car. The nice part about his youth was he was eager to please. I told him I was looking for an accident report. The kid gave me good news. I could absolutely buy a copy of the accident report online. The bad news was I needed to know the date of the accident.

  Damn. I asked if he could look up the accident for me since I knew
the name of the party involved. More bad news. He’d have to call his superiors and ask. Fairly certain news of the request would eventually reach Detective Kaiser, I said thanks but no thanks and walked back to Devlyn’s car.

  “Now what?” Devlyn asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the air.

  “Now we let our fingers do the walking. Let’s go back to Aunt Millie’s place. I need to use my laptop.”

  Aunt Millie’s car wasn’t in the driveway when we pulled up. Killer must be on his way home. Devlyn followed me upstairs to my room. Normally, inviting a sexy man into my boudoir made me break out into a nervous sweat. On several occasions I’d managed to knock over lamps, trip on dust bunnies, and walk into closets because I forgot where the door was located. Was I a smooth operator or what?

  Thank goodness Devlyn’s sexual preferences kept my nerves at bay, and my fingers were able to fly over the keyboard without tipping over the computer. After three different searches I hit pay dirt. The Daily Herald did a short story on a May twenty-fifth accident and named Greg Lucas as the victim. An unnamed witness was quoted. He said Greg had started to cross the street at the intersection when a black Toyota pulled out of a parallel-parking spot and accelerated quickly. The car didn’t slow as it approached the red light and hit Greg as he tried to jump out of the way. The car sped around a corner and disappeared. The article asked anyone with information about the hit-and-run to call the police.

  “Who do we know who owns a black Toyota?”

  Devlyn peered over my shoulder. “Larry used to own a black car. He traded it in just before school let out in June.”

  Huh. Guess my instincts about Larry changing his behavior might be totally off. If nothing else, this was worth looking into. I shut down the computer, gave my chair a shove, and stood up. At least, I tried to. The chair’s front legs tilted backward. The back ones buried into the carpet, and my upward momentum had me falling backward with the chair.