Aunt Millie and Aldo asked me to join them for a rollicking game of Yahtzee. The rattling dice jangled my already taut nerves, but I had nothing better to do with my evening. Besides, seeing Aunt Millie look so happy was good for the soul.
After losing for the tenth time, I asked Millie if she could give me a lift to school tomorrow morning and then called it a night. I was whupped.
Too bad I couldn’t sleep. Visions of Aldo’s inert body, Devlyn’s angry face, and Felicia’s dire warnings played in my head. It was no use. After an hour and a half of pretending sleep was moments away, I turned on the light and grabbed a notepad and pen from the desk. Propping myself up on the pillows, I started listing my suspects: Larry, Dana, Coach Bennett, Devlyn, and Eric. Eric wasn’t really a suspect, but the cops had questioned him so I included him.
I then listed everything else I’d learned since. Which, surprisingly, was a lot. I chewed on the cap of the pen as I studied the list. It was all interesting, but I had no idea which information was important.
On a whim, I crossed out everything that specifically had to do with Devlyn, Coach Bennett, Dana, and Greg’s theft of Larry’s music. What was left?
Someone had tried to run Greg off the road earlier this year. Someone also let the air out of his tires. Both happened long before Drew Roane quit the football team or Greg hit on Chessie. Someone was pissed at Greg back in May and early June—right before school let out for the summer. Then nothing terrible happened to Greg until school was ready to start again. Was that a coincidence? I didn’t think so.
The murderer had to be someone who was out of town for the summer. When the murderer came back, Greg did something to push that person over the edge and he died.
It made sense. Or maybe I was just hoping it made sense. Still, asking around couldn’t hurt. What was more natural at the beginning of the school year than asking what people did for their summer vacation?
Millie dropped me off at Prospect Glen High School. Since she’d canceled everything on her agenda yesterday, she was in a hurry to catch up and zipped off the minute I closed the car door. I went down to the choir room. No Larry. Not a surprise.
I checked in with the front office. Larry hadn’t called in sick, which meant the secretaries were unaware of his absence. Not sure what else to do, I gave the staff Detective Mike’s phone number and informed them that Larry had disappeared over the weekend. While the office staff digested that information and scrambled to find a qualified sub (while I had a master’s degree in music, I wasn’t certified), I went back to Larry’s office to search for any clues I might have missed.
The office’s organization hadn’t improved since my last snooping expedition. If anything, there was more clutter. Stacks of class syllabi were perched precariously on top of the office calendar and other assorted notes and office supplies. Knowing the syllabi were going to be needed today, I moved them to the top of the choir room piano and went back into Larry’s office.
The desk calendar caught my eye. I’d looked at it before, but this time I was looking for something specific. The months of July and August showed lots of notations—several meetings with the Choir Boosters board members, a music educators’ seminar at Northwestern University, and even a meeting with Devlyn to discuss options for the school musical.
Larry was in the area for most if not all of the summer. If my current theory was correct, that geographical proximity put him out of the running as Greg’s murderer. It also took Devlyn out of the picture. Detective Mike would probably find a hundred flaws with my reasoning, but I didn’t care. My gut told me I was right. At this point, my gut was all I had to go on.
I dug through the rest of Larry’s desk drawers. A large envelope held a stack of photographs from competitions. I quickly flipped through them. Larry, Felicia, and the show choir kids were all prominently featured. Judging by the different costumes and hairstyles, the photos had been taken at a number of different competitions spanning the past two or three years. In the background of a few photographs, I could see Greg Lucas leering at Felicia’s backside. I flipped to the last photo. There was Larry wearing a goofy grin. My heart ached. I hoped he’d have a chance to smile at the camera like that again.
I grabbed the printed class rosters from the corner of the desk and headed into the choir room. I could hear the chatter of teens and the slamming of lockers in the hallway. Classes began in fifteen minutes. I had no idea what would happen when they started, but I’d do my best.
Two girls opened the door, took one look at me sitting behind the piano, and giggled. Three boys in droopy denim and T-shirts came in behind.
“Where’s Mr. DeWeese?” asked a girl in a short purple skirt and way too much eye makeup.
Good question. I wished I knew.
Trying not to sound concerned, I said, “Mr. DeWeese had an emergency. He won’t be here today, but he left his class syllabus so we can get started.”
“Are we still having the show choir meeting after school?”
My stomach clenched. “Of course we are.” I gave the girl a perky smile. “Mr. DeWeese wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kids scrambled to take their seats as the bell rang. No Larry. No certified teacher to save the day. It was all me. Yikes.
I checked Larry’s schedule. First period—Freshman Choir. Yippee. After taking attendance, I handed out the syllabus, then gave the entire class the “Mr. DeWeese had an emergency” song and dance.
Now what?
Since the kids had never seen me before, I introduced myself and my position at the school. I also mentioned I’d be teaching a select number of voice students during the school day. The kids hung on my every word. Weird.
We went over the calendar of events for the semester, which included the fall and winter concerts—both were mandatory. The students asked a few questions, and I answered them as best as I could. After twenty minutes, the bell rang. Yay! One class done. Only eight more to go.
As the kids grabbed their stuff and filed out, a large woman with even larger glasses ran through the door and almost took out two whispering girls. The woman spotted me and lumbered over.
Breathing hard, she sputtered, “I’m sorry I’m late. In all my years I’ve never gotten a call to substitute teach on the first day of class. Then I couldn’t find my keys and there was a train…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged.
I let out a sigh of relief. This woman was a teacher, and that meant she was in charge. Since Larry wasn’t present and the substitute teacher didn’t play the piano, I opted out of singing for the students. Instead, I just introduced myself to the classes and left it at that. That worked great until the last period of the day—Chorale—the top choir and home to my show choir students, including Chessie Bock.
When Chessie strutted into the classroom holding hands with Eric, she took one look at me and rolled her eyes. In a way it was comforting to know some things never change. Eric waited for Chessie to turn her back before waving. If nothing else, my foray into detecting had gotten him on my side. That was something, right?
The minutes passed uncomfortably fast. Chessie glared at me through most of the period. Or maybe it wasn’t a glare. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she shot me nervous glances. Chessie was worried about something, which made me wonder if Felicia was right.
Once the bell rang, the substitute teacher headed for the door and all eyes looked to me. “The show choir meeting won’t start for another ten minutes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Once all the other team members arrive, we’ll talk about plans for this year’s season.” My eyes locked with Chessie’s, and I smiled. “Ms. Bock, I would like to see you in Mr. DeWeese’s office for a moment.”
Without waiting for Chessie’s reaction, I turned on my heel and headed for the door. Kids behind me snickered and did the “oooo” sounds adolescents reserve for times when someone is called out.
“Yeah?” Chessie hovered in the doorway. Her attitude was belligerent, but her
eyes looked scared. It was the scared I was interested in.
“Come on in and shut the door.”
Chessie looked like she wanted to protest, but she followed my instructions and took a seat on the piano bench.
Smiling, I said, “I just thought you should know threatening notes aren’t going to make me up and quit.”
Her eyes went wide. Direct hit. “What notes?” Her voice was devoid of its usual swagger.
“I think we both know what I’m talking about.” Our eyes met for several seconds. I felt a small burst of satisfaction when Chessie looked away first. “Having those kinds of threats on your record wouldn’t look so great to college admissions boards.”
Chessie gasped. Clearly, she hadn’t thought about her antics interfering with her college applications.
I sat down on Larry’s chair and leaned forwarded. “Here’s what I’m thinking. If you admit to me you wrote the notes and apologize, I’ll pretend the whole thing didn’t happen.” Chessie looked like I’d hit her over the head with a wet fish. Through the office window, I could see the rest of the show choir kids stroll through the choir room door. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it? You can give me your answer after the meeting. Okay?”
Without giving her a chance to agree, I stood, turned the doorknob, and walked out of the office. Grabbing my dance bag, I headed for the bathroom to change—just in case Devlyn put in an appearance.
Once I had put on my tights, T-shirt, and black dance skirt, I walked back into the choir room. A stone-faced Chessie refused to look at me as I did a quick head count. Forty students. We were four short. Two stragglers came through the door and found seats in the back. I waited another couple minutes, hoping Devlyn would decide to show. The final students poked their heads into the room, and the back of my neck started to sweat.
“Hi. As you all know, my name is Paige Marshall. I’ll be working with Music in Motion this year. I might also be running the first couple rehearsals for Singsations if Mr. DeWeese’s emergency lasts longer than expected.” I wasn’t sure if this last part was true, but it was the best I could come up with. Larry had conveniently left rehearsal, performance, and competition schedules so I handed them out and let the kids look over them. Then I went over the rules.
“All Music in Motion team members are allowed two unexcused absences. If you have more than two, you will be removed from the team and a member of Singsations will be tapped to join the squad.” When I was a teen, we would have rebelled at the idea of being kicked out of a program for having only two absences. Not these kids. My team nodded while the other squad leaned forward with hope blazing in their eyes.
Huh. Maybe I was wrong about the willingness of kids to bump someone off for their teacher. These kids looked like they’d happily shove someone off a cliff in order to climb the ranks. Scary.
I answered a few questions about the rehearsal schedule and glanced at the door. Devlyn wasn’t coming. Not that I blamed him, but still…
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Today, I’m going to announce the song selection for Music in Motion. We’ll be working on—”
The choir room door swung open, and Devlyn strolled in wearing lime green sweats and a gray Prospect Glen T-shirt. “Sorry, I’m late. I was busy fielding questions about auditions for the fall play. Are we ready to show them the number that’s going to help them compete for first place this year?”
My heart gave a happy flutter as the kids leaned forward in anticipation. Mouthing “thank you” to Devlyn, I put our accompaniment disk into the CD player and cranked the volume. Devlyn and I took our places, and music filled the room. It was showtime.
Perhaps it was my delight over Devlyn’s appearance and implied forgiveness that made me forget my nervousness. Instead, I just had fun. I sang the soprano part. Devlyn added his own baritone harmony to the mix, and we turned, twirled, and hand slapped through the song. I struck a pose. Devlyn strutted around me. I held out my hand, and he twirled me against his chest and down I dipped. We danced and sang our hearts out then he grabbed my hips, I jumped, and up I went onto his shoulder. Ta-da!
The kids went wild, and I heard a number of gratifying “holy crap” exclamations as Devlyn smoothly set me down onto the floor. I hit off on the CD player as the kids started chattering.
“Is all the choreography like that?”
“I thought Chessie said she didn’t know how to sing show tunes.”
“What are the costumes going to look like?”
“Is the Singsations stuff going to be this hard?”
“I don’t think I can do the lift.”
“That’s going to take forever to learn.”
Devlyn put his hands up, and the room got quiet. “I think you’ll all admit Paige is ready to take Music in Motion to the next level. If you aren’t up to it, make sure you tell her now so someone else who is ready can take your spot.”
Silence.
Devlyn glanced toward me and winked. I winked back. It felt good to be on the same side again.
A couple of choir members asked to see the routine again. I looked at Devlyn. He nodded, and away we went. I could see the girls watching me closely. The boys all studied Devlyn. By the time we were done, the only ones applauding were the Singsations kids. My students were already discussing getting together for additional practices outside of rehearsals to brush up on their dance.
“Mr. DeWeese, Mr. O’Shea, and I are excited about working with all of you this year. The sheet music Mr. DeWeese ordered should be in by the end of the week. Our first music rehearsal will be next Monday. We’ll start learning some of the basic steps next rehearsal. Got it?”
They nodded.
“Good. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
The excited group gathered up their stuff and headed for the exit. In the middle of the kids was Chessie trying to make a break for it.
“Miss Bock,” I said, projecting my voice over the exuberant chitchat. “I believe you had something to tell me.”
Chessie stopped walking. Eric tugged on her hand. For a moment I wondered if she’d decide to walk out the door with him. Finally, she said something to Eric, turned around, and walked back into the room. Eric shrugged and trudged out the door with the rest of the crowd.
Devlyn leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure confronting Chessie now is a good idea?”
“Trust me.”
Chessie stood next to the piano. She had developed an intense interest in her purple flip-flops as the rest of the students left.
“So what did you think of the routine?” I asked.
“It was pretty good.”
High praise.
“I’m hoping the judges think it’s better than pretty good,” Devlyn joked. “That routine needs to bring down the house.” He waited for Chessie and me to agree with him, but neither of us spoke. We just looked at each other.
The silence stretched on for several long seconds. We were playing a game of chicken. The first one to speak lost. It wasn’t going to be me.
“Okay. Fine. I wrote those notes. Only it wasn’t all my idea. Someone told me to do it.”
“Someone told you to write Ms. Marshall threatening notes?”
I was glad Devlyn spoke because I was too stunned.
“Well, sort of.” Chessie bit her lip. “Once Mr. DeWeese told us you were going to be in charge of the team I knew we had to make you quit. Otherwise we’d be throwing away everything we’d worked for. So I did some research online and found that review.”
If ever I ran into that reviewer, I was going to deck him in the mouth. “And?”
“Your bag was out in the open, so I put the printout in. I figured things were so busy no one would see me doing it.” Her chin rose. “You didn’t.”
“But somebody did.”
Slowly she nodded.
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” Chessie said. Devlyn shot her a look of disbelief, and her defiant attitude crumbled. “I really don’t know. Honest
. I got an e-mail around seven o’clock on Friday night saying what a great idea the note was and that another note left in your mailbox on Saturday morning would really put the pressure on. It worried me that someone saw me, because I was so careful, but I liked that someone else agreed with me. Eric was against me doing anything to get rid of you.”
Sighing, I asked, “Was the e-mail signed?” Another head shake. “Did you recognize the e-mail address?”
“No,” she admitted. “But lots of my friends have created new e-mail addresses recently so I assumed it was just one of them. I mean, who else could it have been?”
I lifted an eyebrow in doubt. An epidemic of e-mail address changes seemed far-fetched to me. Devlyn didn’t agree. “We see this every year with seniors applying to colleges. I’ve had to update my files a dozen times already to keep track of kids who have changed their addresses to something more professional.”
Damn. That made sense. “Did the person say why they thought Saturday morning was a good time to drop off another note?”
Chessie chewed on the end of a lock of hair. “The e-mail mentioned something else would happen around lunchtime. We’d have a one-two punch. Or one-two-three if you count my first note.”
The pride in her voice pissed me off. “Do you know what the e-mailer’s punch was?” Before she could say anything, I answered the question. “Gunshots. While I was standing at the bottom of my aunt’s driveway reading your note, someone tried to kill me. Someone you helped.”
The girl’s face drained of color, and her eyes flew to Devlyn’s face for confirmation. The minute he nodded, her lip trembled and she started to cry.
My gut instinct is normally to sooth away tears. I can’t help it. In this case, I was happy to let Chessie cry. Scaring the crap out of me and aiding and abetting a murderer were pretty good mistakes to cry over.
After a few minutes, the flow of tears ebbed, and Chessie started snuffling. Devlyn handed her a tissue, and she wiped her face. Taking a shaky breath, she asked, “Will I go to jail?”