Murder for Choir

  Devlyn gave a low whistle. “Every show choir in the country has performed that song. It’s a classic. If that’s the song Greg stole from Larry, he’s made a fortune off it. From the bank statements and bills I’ve found, Larry is hurting for cash.”

  In any cop’s book, Larry would have a fabulous motive for murder. Call me crazy, but to me Larry was looking more innocent by the second. Between the pitch pipe, the anonymous phone call, and years of Larry’s willingness to be cheated without fighting back, my instincts said someone else was responsible.

  Devlyn didn’t feel the same way. He stood up and took the tape from my hand. “We need to turn this over to the police.”

  I took the tape back. “We will, but first we talk to Larry. He deserves a chance to tell us his side of the story before we sic the cops on him.” Devlyn didn’t look convinced, so I added, “The guy is passed out cold on the bathroom floor. The least we can do is let him sleep off the booze and take a shower before sending him off to the clink. We can meet back here in the morning after Larry’s had a chance to change clothes. We’ll talk to him. If we don’t like what he says, we call the cops. Deal?”

  “Deal. Just so you know, I hate getting up early on Sunday mornings. You’re buying the coffee.”

  Devlyn put the bills back where he found them while I moved laundry from the washer to the dryer and stashed the tape back in its sock. We then stood in the bathroom doorway watching Larry breathe. Devlyn wanted to leave him on the floor. I wanted the guy in a good mood tomorrow when we arrived. Eight to ten hours lying on tile would make me cranky, so we each took an arm and half carried, half dragged Larry to his bed. We left the side door unlocked in case we got back before Larry had finished sleeping off his drunken stupor. Then we headed for Devlyn’s car.

  It was midnight when Devlyn pulled back into Millie’s driveway. We decided to meet back at Larry’s at seven, and Devlyn insisted on walking me to the door. After last night’s front-stoop adventure, I was happy to have the company. I slid my key in the lock and turned back to say good night as Devlyn’s mouth latched onto mine.

  I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I know how to kiss. My first kiss was back in eighth grade when I got caught under the mistletoe with Jack McGregor. His nose bumped mine twice as he tried to find my mouth, and all I remember thinking was how slimy his lips were as I did my best to kiss him back. I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to kiss him back. Everyone was watching.

  Well, no one was watching this kiss, but I still didn’t know what to do. Devlyn’s lips were warm and firm, no Jack McGregor slime. In fact, his lips were fabulous. But I couldn’t enjoy the moment. All I could do was stand there with my eyes wide open, trying to decide if I’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. After a few seconds, Devlyn stepped back. I blinked up at him. He gave me a teasing smile and said, “Oops. I meant to do this.” He leaned back down and kissed me on the nose. “See you in the morning.” The man was down the driveway and climbing into his car before I could form a coherent sentence.

  What the hell was that?

  Dazed, I went inside, locked the door behind me, and headed up to my room. This wasn’t the first time a gay man had kissed me. Far from it. Every time I went to an audition I got pecks on the lips from the men I knew, both gay and straight. But a kiss on the doorstep after going on what could be loosely considered a date was unchartered territory. I was pretty sure Devlyn was teasing me. He had to be. Right?

  By the time I went to the bathroom to change into my pajamas and brush my teeth, I’d decided Devlyn had been yanking my chain. Still, after he and I had a chat with Larry, the two of us were going to have a long talk. Just in case.

  Feeling less confused, I walked into my room and sighed. Sitting in the middle of the bed was Killer. The pink bandage had slipped and was now covering his left eye, making him look decidedly rakish. He took one look at me, rolled over, and stuck his feet up in the air. I didn’t have the energy or the heart to toss him out, so I nudged Killer to the left side of the bed, pushed back the covers, and turned off the light.

  When I staggered out of bed the next morning, Millie and Killer were downstairs in the kitchen. Between the kiss, the pitch pipe, and the bed-hogging dog, I hadn’t gotten much rest. If I didn’t get my beauty sleep soon, I was going to need a facelift.

  “Good morning, dear. I didn’t expect you up so early. Did your date go well?” Millie’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Devlyn is just a friend,” I reminded her as I poured a large cup of coffee in hopes of bolstering my energy.

  “The best marriages start off with friendship,” Millie said with a wink. “Don’t forget the benefit tonight. We have to be at the Ockinickys at seven. Devlyn is welcome to join us.” She finished her coffee, patted Killer on the head, and disappeared out the door.

  Damn. I’d forgotten about the benefit. The Ockinickys were raising money for a local children’s after-school choir and art program. Aunt Millie had promised her friends I’d sing a couple of songs to help inspire guests to give money to the cause. She thought the appearance might lead to a break in my career. I figured it meant I’d just go hungry for the night. No one ever remembered to save hors d’oeuvres for the entertainment.

  The thought of food made my stomach protest. I walked over to the fridge and reached for the handle as a low growl came from behind me. Killer’s nails clipped along the floor, and the growl got louder as he took a seat next to the fridge. The bandage on his head had come off. He was now sporting a buzz cut and zigzagged stitching on the top of his head.

  I pulled the handle on the fridge, and Frankenpoodle growled louder and snapped. Instinctively, I took a step back. Then I got mad.

  “Look,” I yelled. “You got to sleep in my bed, which means I get to eat breakfast. I think that’s fair. Don’t you?”

  I reached for the door handle again, and Killer barked twice and bared his teeth. Clearly, fair wasn’t in his vocabulary. I gave him what I hoped was a withering look. “Fine. Just remember this tonight.” Turning on my heel, I stomped out the door.

  Thank goodness there was a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to Larry’s house. I got a large latte for me, two large regular coffees for the boys, and two dozen assorted doughnuts. If after talking to Larry, we needed to call the cops, the doughnuts wouldn’t go to waste.

  Devlyn hadn’t yet arrived as I steered my Cobalt into Larry’s driveway and parked behind his silver car. If he wanted to make a quick getaway, he’d have to do it on foot. Balancing the tray of coffee and the doughnut boxes, I headed for the unlocked side door and let myself into the house. The place was quiet. No shower or radio sounds. Larry must still be asleep.

  I walked into the living room and went flying. My left foot stepped on something, I lost my balance, and my body bashed into the wall. The doughnut boxes fell to the floor, but thank God the coffee tray remained upright in my hand.

  Holy crap. No wonder I tripped. The place was a mess.

  Video games, CDs, and video controllers were strewn across the floor along with the futon mattress. The piano bench was upside down, and sheets of music were spread across the carpet like confetti. I put the coffee tray on top of the piano and raced into the kitchen. More destruction. Drawers were emptied. Chairs were upended. Even the garbage had been knocked over. Either Larry couldn’t find the aspirin or someone had tossed his house.

  Careful not to trip on debris, I hurried down the hall, looking into rooms as I passed. Larry wasn’t in any of them. By the time I got to the bedroom, one thing was clear. Larry was gone, and given the large streak of blood on the bed, I was guessing he didn’t go willingly.

  Nausea sliced through my stomach. The white sheets and blue comforter I’d smoothed and tucked last night were bunched at the end of the bed. The white pillow I last saw Larry snoring on had a dark bloodstain in the center. The fitted sheet showed drips of the same dark stain in several spots. I thought I saw drops of blood on the floor, too, but it was hard to tell with the dresser dra
wers overturned and Larry’s other belongings ransacked.

  Fingers shaking, I pulled out my phone and dialed Detective Kaiser’s number.

  “Yeah?” Mike sounded grumpy. He got grumpier the minute I told him where I was and where Larry wasn’t. “Go outside and wait for me. Don’t touch anything. I don’t want you disturbing the scene any more than you have. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Putting the phone back in my pocket, I started to leave, then noticed the overturned sock drawer. Okay. Detective Mike told me not to touch anything, but he didn’t know about the audiotape. If someone had taken the tape, Detective Mike would never know about it unless I told him.

  Feeling morally bound to snoop, I sifted through the socks one by one, looking for the tape. Nothing. I looked under a few shirts and a couple pairs of pants. The tape, like Larry, was missing.

  My watch told me the cops would be pulling up any minute. I hightailed it down the hall to the living room and grabbed the doughnut boxes.

  “What the hell happened to this place?”

  The boxes went flying as I jumped and spun around. Devlyn laughed. Then he took one look at my freaked-out face, and his laughter faded.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The house was like this when I arrived, and Larry is gone.” My breath caught in my throat as I explained about the blood and the missing tape. “I’ve called Detective Kaiser. He wants us to wait outside.”

  Devlyn looked stunned. He gave me a quick hug and reached down to pick up the battered doughnut boxes. I grabbed the tray of coffees, and we went outside to wait for the cavalry.

  Detective Kaiser arrived a few minutes later. Judging by the five o’clock shadow, the barely combed hair, and the mismatched black and brown shoes, he’d been in bed when I called. A part of me wondered whether he’d been alone or if his date had forgiven last night’s cancellation. If last night hadn’t warned her off, this morning’s wake-up call should have done the trick.

  The detective stalked toward us with a frown. “You didn’t say Mr. O’Shea was here.”

  “You didn’t ask,” I shot back, feeling testy. Then I admitted, “He wasn’t here when I called you. We arranged to meet here at seven, but Devlyn was a little late.” More like a lot late—which just occurred to me. I wondered why.

  Devlyn opened a box of doughnuts and held the box out toward Detective Mike. The detective raised an eyebrow. I would, too. The doughnuts inside were a disaster. Chocolate frosting and sprinkles coated the box lid. Several of the donuts resembled miniature Frisbees.

  The detective must have been hungry. He grabbed one of the Frisbees and took a bite. Swallowing, he said, “Wait here.” Then he disappeared inside. My stomach growled. Devlyn swung the box of mangled doughnuts toward me. I shook my head. A smear of raspberry filling made a couple of the doughnuts look like they belonged in a trauma ward. After seeing the bloodstains in Larry’s room, the disemboweled pastries disturbed me.

  I sipped at my lukewarm latte and looked down at my black sneakers, trying to ignore the guilt creeping up my spine. Larry shouldn’t be missing. Had I called the cops last night like Devlyn wanted to, Larry would now be cooling his heels in a room at the Prospect Glen Police Department instead of being injured. Maybe worse.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  I sniffled and looked up at Devlyn. “Are you psychic now?”

  “You look like you’re standing on a ledge looking down.” He sat down on the concrete driveway and patted the ground next to him. “Have a seat before you throw yourself off the curb.”

  I planted my butt on the ground, and Devlyn put his arm around me. We sat there saying nothing, probably because there wasn’t anything we could say. Larry was gone.

  “Mr. O’Shea.” Devlyn and I turned to watch Detective Kaiser trot out of the house and toward us. His expression was unreadable as he pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. “Could you step over here for a minute please?”

  Devlyn gave me another quick hug and got to his feet. A minute later the two men were huddled under a tree by the side of the house, leaving me alone with my guilt and a box of doughnuts. I broke off a piece of chocolate cake doughnut and popped it into my mouth. Huh. Not bad. The glazed and the bear claw weren’t bad, either. By the time Devlyn and Detective Kaiser were done chatting, my guilt was making me feel decidedly ill. Or maybe it was the five doughnuts I’d just eaten. It was hard to tell.

  “Your turn, Ms. Marshall.” Detective Kaiser smiled, but his eyes were anything but happy. He crooked his finger, and I swallowed hard as the doughnuts threatened to make a reappearance.

  Devlyn gave me a peck on the cheek and whispered, “I didn’t mention the pitch pipe. That’s up to you. Give me a call when you’re done.” Then, grabbing the full box of doughnuts, he headed to his car and drove away.

  The detective leaned against Larry’s car and asked, “What did Mr. O’Shea say to you just now?”

  I considered lying and decided against it just in case the eyebrow thing was true. Instead, I went with option B: a half-truth. “He told me to call him when I was done talking to you.” I scrambled to my feet and asked, “What do you think happened to Larry?”

  Detective Kaiser pushed away from the car. “That’s what I’m hoping you’ll tell me. The house is a wreck, but there’s nothing to say Larry didn’t destroy the place himself before leaving.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t think he did. But right now I don’t have proof that a crime took place.” He smiled. “That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?” I fought the urge to study the ground.

  “Yeah. You.”

  We looked at each other as the seconds ticked by. Finally, I said, “I think whoever tossed Larry’s house was the same person who called in the anonymous tip about his car.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  I sighed. Aunt Millie would probably spring for my bail. “When I was getting paper out of Larry’s car, I found a pitch pipe wedged deep in between the seats. Then the neighbor showed up, and I forgot to put it back where I found it. I think someone wanted the police to find the pitch pipe. When you didn’t, they came here looking for it.” I braced myself for lots of yelling.

  “Where is the pitch pipe now?”

  I was impressed. Detective Kaiser’s jaw was clenched and his eyes looked ready to pop, but his voice was low and calm. I unzipped my purse, pulled out the object in question, and dropped it into his hand. “I didn’t think it was important until after you left last night. That’s when I took a closer look and saw the inscription. That pitch pipe belonged to Greg Lucas, and I’m pretty sure I saw him with it the afternoon before he died.”

  Detective Kaiser’s right eye began to twitch as he examined the object in his hands. He held the pitch pipe closer to his face to read the inscription. “You do realize I could arrest you for this, right?”

  My heart skipped several beats, and I sucked in air as I waited for him to pull out the handcuffs.

  Instead, he shook his head and asked, “Is there anything else I should know about?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. If purloining evidence hadn’t gotten me arrested, I figured I was safe. “When I was straightening up Larry’s bedroom last night, I ran across a cassette tape stashed in the back of his sock drawer. I tried to find it this morning, but it was gone.”

  “Did you listen to the tape?”

  I nodded. “Greg and Larry were in an a cappella group in college. I’m pretty sure that was the group on the recording.” Now that I had started spilling my guts, I couldn’t stop. I told Detective Kaiser about Greg stealing Larry’s music and passing it off as his own. I also mentioned Larry’s financial problems.

  When I was done with my recitation, I let out a sigh of relief. Then I looked at Detective Kaiser’s face. His eyes were closed. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles had turned white, and he was taking slow, deep breaths. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. His eyes snapped
open. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  I took a step back. “I was trying to help.”

  “Help?” He half laughed, half yelled. “I don’t need this kind of help. I know how to do my job.”

  A smart person would have agreed, taken her doughnuts, and gone home. For some reason, I was adverse to being that smart. Taking a step forward, I said, “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t know that Greg stole Larry’s music when they were in college or that the tape that was in Larry’s house has been stolen.”

  “I still don’t know any of that. In my line of work, proof is a requirement. You telling me it’s true doesn’t mean jack.”

  “Jim Waldorf will tell you exactly what he told me. I can call him and set up a meeting.” I reached for my phone. Jim would be happy for an excuse to escape Whac-A-Mole emergencies.

  “You’re not going to call anyone. You are going to get in your car and drive back to your aunt’s house and stay there.” Detective Kaiser shoved the pitch pipe in his pocket, grabbed my arm, and started walking toward my Cobalt.

  I couldn’t sit around doing nothing. My conscience wouldn’t let me. I put on the brakes. “What about the tape? I can help you look for it. I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

  “You won’t cause any trouble?” His mouth twitched. Then he started to laugh. “Paige, you’ve been nothing but trouble since the minute I laid eyes on you. I should have my head examined for not arresting you, let alone doing this.”

  His hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close. Then he kissed me. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours I had no idea how to react. Detective Kaiser’s mouth slanted over mine, demanding I get involved. It was hard not to. The man knew how to kiss. His mouth was hard and hot and a little bit teasing, and bubbles of excitement popped inside my stomach as my knees went weak.

  I dropped the doughnut box to the ground and grabbed on to his shoulders. His hand ran down my back and my body hummed as he nudged me toward my car and pinned me against the driver’s door. Yowzah. I could feel the handcuffs clipped to his belt. Suddenly, the idea of using them had a definite appeal. The smell of soap and aftershave was a major turn-on as I ran my hands through his thick, curly hair. His hands traveled down my hips. Finally, he pulled his head back.