A Chorus Lineup (A Glee Club Mystery) (21 page)

After an hour of humming through music, I settled on two pieces that I thought were my best chance of making a strong impression. “Quando me’n vo” from
La Bohème
and Elsie’s “Tis Done! I Am a Bride” from
Yeomen of the Guard
. The second was technically operetta, but the music was challenging and the song gave me a chance to flex my actress muscles. As a backup, I chose Rosalida’s second-act aria from
Die Fledermaus
. It never hurt to have a German song ready to go.

That decided, I sent a message to Alan, changed into my T-shirt and ratty sweatpants, and made a beeline for the bed. I had just settled in when someone tapped on my door. There was only one person I could think of who would be outside waiting to see whether I’d let them in. Well, if Devlyn thought we were going to kiss and make up, he was going to be disappointed.

I flopped onto my pillow and closed my eyes. More tapping. I wasn’t going to answer. Right?

Wrong.

After flipping aside the covers, I padded across the carpet, unlatched the door, and opened it to reveal . . .

“Aldo?”

He waved his wrinkled hand at me and took a step backward. “You were asleep. I should not have-a come.”

When he turned to leave, I realized he was wearing the maroon robe and slippers that my aunt had given him for Christmas. The attire wasn’t an unusual sight considering the two of us lived under the same roof. But seeing Aldo wear them in the middle of a hotel hallway was.

“I wasn’t asleep. Please, come in.” I reached out and pulled him inside before he could shuffle away. Hitting the lights, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Aldo sighed. “Well, maybe a little something. For months your aunt has refused to speak of marriage. She would not stay in the same hotel room with me because we do not set a good example by not being married. But tonight she comes to my room and says we should . . .” His face turned the color of his robe. “Well . . . she a . . . you know.”

I did know, and I was pretending that I was perfectly comfortable hearing that my aunt jumped Aldo tonight. And that I wasn’t a little wigged out with Aldo calmly waiting for me to comment on that event.

“Is Millie still in your room?” I asked, not sure why Aldo was here instead of there.

Aldo’s mostly bald head bobbed up and down. “Your aunt’s a-sleeping. She always sleeps soundly after . . .”

This discussion was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. I searched for the safest thing to say and asked, “Why are you here?”

“I’m confused.”

That made two of us.

Aldo paced the length of my room while his bathrobe flapped in the breeze. “Millie has been clear about what she does no’ want. But tonight she acts different. And now I do not know what to do.”

Ah. Now I understood. Millie must have thought about what she and I had discussed and was now looking to broach the marriage conversation. No wonder Aldo was baffled.

Smiling, I put my hand on Aldo’s arm to stop him from traveling the length of the room for the fourth time. “Aunt Millie likes to believe she always knows what’s right. When she’s not, it takes her a while to admit it. I think tonight she was trying to demonstrate that she’s had a change of heart.”

“You think?” Hope shined bright in Aldo’s eyes. “You believe your aunt will consider marrying me?”

“It couldn’t hurt to ask her.”

“You’re right.” Aldo marched over to the door. Turning, he said, “You are a good girl. Now get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”

Aldo was right. Tomorrow the team would learn whether they had a place in the finals. I’d catch a plane for the biggest audition of my life. And the police might decide that LuAnn’s death was a murder after all. As far as days went, tomorrow was almost as big as they got.

Most of the kids barely spoke during breakfast. Their expressions were tense as they picked at their breakfasts. Not even Killer’s pathetic pleas for bacon or his energetically wagging tail could get the most nervous of them to laugh. A few well-meaning parents tried to soothe their kids’ anxiety by saying things like “Music in Motion has competed over a half dozen times in the last few months.” And “You have nothing to worry about.”

While both were true, I understood why many of the team members were leaving the food on their plates untouched. This was it. The final leg in the journey we had all taken together this year. Hundreds of hours of work had gone into learning and polishing these routines. If they didn’t do well today, many would feel that time had been wasted. They’d be wrong. The work we’d done was bigger than one ten-minute set on this Nashville stage or the opinions of eight judges who may or may not appreciate the choreography. But telling a group of fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds that the journey was more important than the outcome wasn’t going to help. That was a lesson only time could teach. And even then it was a hard lesson to remember.

“Ms. Marshall.”

Learning to accept that you had to sometimes step to the side was another hard lesson. Looking up from my mostly full plate of eggs and fruit, I asked, “How are you feeling today, Megan?”

Her answering smile was big and bright. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I warmed up in the shower this morning and my voice is a lot better. Nothing hurts or feels swollen. So, I was hoping you’d change your mind and let me perform today. I talked to Mr. DeWeese about it, but he said you had to be the one to make the call.”

Good for Larry. His tendency to look and sound distracted gave the students the false illusion that he wasn’t all that bright. They were wrong. Larry knew the only reason Megan would come to him asking to be put into the number was because she knew what my answer would be.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Megan’s smile grew bigger but faded as I added, “That means your voice will be even stronger tomorrow for the finals. Until then I want you to continue to stay hydrated, keep quiet as much as possible, and take more zinc.”

Megan’s shoulders slumped.

“Look,” I said gently. “I know you’re disappointed. But I need you to answer a question. Do you think this team is good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good enough to win this competition?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll be on that stage tomorrow. Just make sure you don’t scream or do anything between now and then to change that.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “That goes for all of you today. We’re scheduled to perform second. Once we’re done and you’ve changed out of your costumes, I expect you to sit in the audience and support the other teams as they perform. But no yelling or doing anything that might affect your voice. Today is just the first step. You’ll need to be even better tomorrow. Got it?”

They cheered.

“I said no yelling.”

The laughter that followed my exaggerated eye roll eased the tension. The kids went back to eating, but this time friendly teasing accompanied the other mealtime sounds. By the time breakfast was over and everyone was carrying their costumes onto the bus, the group’s attitude was one of eager anticipation. They’d worked hard and were ready for this step. As a matter of fact, I thought, sliding into the seat across from Larry, so was I.

Or maybe I wasn’t.

My pulse spiked as the kids hurried off the bus at the performing arts center. I couldn’t say how much of my nerves were due to the upcoming performance or related to the three police squad cars parked near the entrance. Despite the text Larry had received saying that the left-stage loading dock was now operational and that the police were allowing people to use that entrance, we opted to have the bus park in front. The day was going to be stressful enough without the kids seeing the exact spot where LuAnn Freeman had been mowed down.

A slightly stuttering Larry, an enthusiastic Jim, and an overly polite Devlyn helped the kids get their costumes and instruments off the bus and into our staging room. Meanwhile, I helped Millie with her makeup kit.

“Kit” implied something small and contained. So that might have been a misnomer for the arsenal that Millie had hauled all the way from Chicago. Lit mirrors. Six sets of curlers and four curling irons. Two blow-dryers. Dozens of large powder puffs, eyelash curlers, bottles of cold cream, and application sponges. Not to mention box after box of foundation, eye shadow of every hue, mascara, lipstick, and blush. Hurray for Mary Kay!

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.”