Death in a Major (5 page)

“So what did I miss while I was gone?” Aaron asked once the waitress had set plates full of appetizing food on our table.

My thoughts immediately went to Mr. Major's death, but I decided that might not be the best subject to lead with. I didn't know if Aaron would appreciate discussing death over dinner. Luckily, I had no trouble coming up with something more pleasant to talk about.

“Did you hear about JT's new job?” I asked, referring to my best friend. Aaron was a drummer in the same band as JT, and I'd met Aaron at one of the band's rehearsals.

“Composing music for a TV show, right? I saw something about it on Facebook a few weeks ago.”

I nodded as I scooped up a forkful of curry and rice. “
Absolute Zero
. It's a sci-­fi show filming here in Vancouver.”

“That's an awesome gig.”

“It is.”

Once I'd tasted my curry, I filled Aaron in on more of the details of JT's job, a smile on my face as I talked. Every time I thought about my best friend's music being used on a television show, I felt like I would burst with pride and excitement. Even so, I made sure I didn't spend the entire meal talking about JT's achievements.

“You must have some stories to tell,” I said. “I know you've already told me a bit about touring with your cousin's band, but I want to hear more.”

Aaron obliged, delving into stories about his time overseas. As we ate and chatted, I focused on nothing more than enjoying his company and his dreamy British accent. By the time we parted ways with a lingering kiss outside the restaurant, all thoughts of death and murder had long slipped from my mind.

 

Chapter Five

S
UNDAY MORNING CAME
with brilliant blue skies and bright warm sunshine. It was a perfect day to spend outdoors, enjoying the fabulous weather that hovered between summer and autumn. I was glad I'd planned to spend part of the day working in JT's garden, planting fall bulbs that would grow into colorful tulips and daffodils in the spring. Gardening was one of my favorite hobbies, but living in an apartment, I only had a ­couple of potted plants of my own. Fortunately, JT was more than happy to let me loose in his yard so I could add bursts of color during the spring and summer.

As soon as I'd dressed and had some breakfast, I set off to his house, enjoying the walk from the bus stop into the heart of JT's neighborhood. The air was crisp but not too cold, and the leaves on the stately trees lining the streets were in the midst of changing color. Soon summer would be a mere memory and autumn would be in full force. I didn't mind. I loved every season, for different reasons.

On my way through the neighborhood I passed several other pedestrians out enjoying the fresh morning air, some jogging and others walking their dogs. One woman who lived on JT's street was out tending her front garden, and I waved to her as I passed by. I loved this part of the city. It was peaceful and close to the forest, yet within walking distance of shops and restaurants. The houses were nice too, most of them two stories with decent-­sized yards.

The only problem with the neighborhood was the high real estate prices. The prime location came at a hefty cost, and the only reason JT could live in the area was because he'd inherited his house, mortgage free, from his father. I knew I'd never be able to afford a house in the neighborhood, but I appreciated the time I got to spend there.

When I arrived at JT's white, two-­story home, I dug through my handbag for my keys as I jogged up the front steps. Since I rented a room on the main floor of the house for use as my music studio, I had my own key to the front door. Once I'd fished it out of my bag, I let myself in and called out a greeting. I received nothing but silence in response.

Passing by the front room I used as my studio, I headed straight through to the back of the house. JT knew I was coming over, but had mentioned that he'd be out walking his dog, Finnegan, at some point in the morning. I figured that was the reason for their absence, and continued on out the back door and across the yard to a small shed. Inside I found gardening tools and the fall bulbs I'd purchased from a garden store the previous weekend.

After a brief battle with some clingy cobwebs, I picked up everything I needed and set off around the house to the front garden. JT had already turned the soil, making my job far easier. Within moments, I was digging holes for the bulbs, enjoying the light exercise and the fresh, gentle breeze that kept me from getting too warm.

Once I had several holes ready, I mixed in some plant food and set to work placing the tulip and daffodil bulbs a few inches apart. When spring arrived, the daffodils would bloom a bright shade of sunshine yellow, and the tulips would come out in hues of red, pink, and purple. With flowers planted on both sides of the front steps, JT's house would look extra welcoming in several months' time.

I got into a good rhythm of planting and the job went quickly. I was covering up the last of the bulbs with soil when JT turned up the walkway, Finnegan straining at the end of his leash.

“Hey, guys.” I brushed dirt from my hands and crouched down to give the dog a hug.

His tail wagging enthusiastically, the collie malamute cross gave me a wet kiss on the cheek and then broke free of my embrace. JT unhooked the leash and Finnegan ran in a circle around me before bouncing over to sniff the trowel I'd left stuck in the dirt.

“Looks like you've been busy,” JT said. “Want something to drink?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

“I'll be back in a moment.”

He jogged up the steps and into the house. While he was gone, I smoothed out the dirt I'd shoveled over the bulbs and stood back to admire my work. When JT returned with two cans of root beer in hand, I went over to meet him. He passed me one of the cans and then sat down on the front steps.

“You planted all the bulbs you bought last week?” JT asked, eyeing the empty bag at the base of the steps.

“I did.” I sat down next to him and popped open my can of root beer.

“Thanks. The garden will look great next spring.”

“I hope so.” I took a sip of my delicious, fizzy drink, savoring it before swallowing. “Did you guys have a nice walk?”

“We did.” JT scratched Finnegan on the head as he trotted past, intent on exploring every corner of the front yard, despite the fact that he'd done so a thousand times before. “Any other plans for the day?”

“Not really.” I turned my face up to the beautiful clear sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun as well as the hint of autumn crispness in the air. “Just relaxing, I guess.”

“Sounds good to me.” JT took a drink of his own root beer. “The guys are coming over later for an extra band practice. Feel free to stick around if you want.”

“I might just do that.” I hadn't been to one of JT's band practices for ages. Listening in might be fun. “Is Aaron coming? Or is he too jetlagged?”

“He texted this morning to say he's coming. Have you seen him since he got back?”

“I met him at the airport yesterday and we went out for dinner. Sounds like he had a good time over the summer.”

“I bet he's happy to be back though,” JT said. “He's really into you, you know.”

“Really?” I shifted on the wooden step, my nerves suddenly on edge for some reason I couldn't pinpoint. I hurried to change the subject. “You'll never guess what happened at the concert the other night. Well, after the concert, to be exact. At the reception.”

“Clausen professed his undying love for you?”

I grimaced. “Not quite,” I said, remembering Hans's spiel about breaking up with Elena.

JT looked at me sharply. “Not quite? I was kidding.”

“I know you were, but that wasn't what I wanted to talk about anyway.”

“Hold on,” JT said, his forehead furrowed with concern. “Did Clausen say something to you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just that he and Elena have broken up. For some reason he thought I'd care. Which I don't,” I added quickly.

“Good.” JT relaxed. He'd never been thrilled about my involvement with Hans, and finding out that he was two-­timing me hadn't helped matters. “So what else happened?”

“Archibald Major—­one of the symphony's benefactors—­died.”

“Seriously? At the reception?”

“Yep.” I took another sip of my drink and then frowned, remembering Major's last moments. “It wasn't very pleasant.”

“What happened? A heart attack?”

“Actually, it might have been murder.”

“Somebody killed him in the middle of the reception?”

“It's not like someone attacked him or anything, but murder is a possibility, at least. I know the police are investigating, but they're still waiting for the autopsy and toxicology results. But if homicide detectives are sniffing around, something made them suspicious. I'm pretty sure somebody poisoned him.”

JT nearly choked on his root beer. “Poisoned?”

“Yep.”

“Dori . . .” He seemed at a loss for words for some reason.

“What? I know it's awful but—­”

He recovered enough to cut me off. “What if you'd been poisoned too? This is crazy.”

His reaction caught me off guard, but it didn't take me long to figure out what was at the root of it—­fear.

I patted his back. “Don't worry. I wasn't in any danger.”

“How do you know that?”

“If the poison was in the food or the champagne, other ­people would have died or fallen ill too.” That was true, I realized. I pondered the possible scenarios. “So, either someone put it in his champagne glass or coffee cup or . . .” I recalled what I'd witnessed the other night. “ . . . his flask.”

Yes, his coffee cup and flask were the most likely sources of the poison. Slipping it unnoticed into his champagne would have been tricky, and I guessed that poisoning any food he'd eaten would have been harder. But his coffee cup was another story, as was his flask. Major didn't fill his own coffee mug. Mrs. Duffy had done that for him, with some help from Gareth Hollingsworth, and their backs had been to the rest of the room at the time. I found it hard to imagine Jordan's mother killing her own father, even if he was unpleasant, but I couldn't ignore the fact that she'd had the opportunity.

And what about Mr. Hollingsworth? Could he have slipped something into the mug as he talked to her?

Maybe, but I couldn't think of any possible reason why he'd want Mr. Major dead.

I moved on to consider the flask. The poison could have been slipped into it before the reception. So the question was, who'd had access to his flask?

“Don't even go there.”

JT's voice pulled me back to the present.

“Go where?”

“I can see the wheels turning in your head. You're trying to solve the crime. Don't you remember what happened the last time you got mixed up in a murder investigation?”

It was hard to forget. I'd almost been burned to a crisp twice, and those experiences continued to haunt me via the occasional nightmare.

“I'm not getting mixed up in anything.”

“Are you sure?” The question was laced with suspicion.

“Positive. Do you know who you sound like?”

JT hesitated. “Your parents?” He clearly hoped that wasn't the answer.

“Gosh, no. I never told them about my involvement in the murder investigation last spring. No, you sound like Detective Salnikova. I ran into her at the theater yesterday and she went on about keeping my nose out of her investigation and leaving the sleuthing to the professionals.”

“I like the sound of this Salnikova.”

“I knew you would,” I said. “But, really, JT, you have nothing to worry about.” I didn't give him a chance to voice any more skepticism. “Do you have time for some lunch before band practice?”

“Sure.”

JT helped me move the bulb food and gardening tools back to the shed. Once that was done and I'd washed the remaining dirt off my hands, we set off for a nearby bakery, where we bought sandwiches before returning to JT's house to eat. Not long after we finished our meal, JT's fellow band members began arriving. Rafael and Hamish showed up first, and soon wandered down to the basement with JT. I stayed behind in the kitchen, waiting for Aaron to appear.

He came in through the unlocked front door a minute or two later and I slipped off my stool at the breakfast bar so I could greet him. His dimples came out in full when he saw me. I gave him a quick hug and kissed him, but broke away when I heard someone coming up the stairs from the basement.

Aaron tried to pull me closer to him, but I resisted. “If Hamish sees, he'll make fun of us,” I said by way of explanation. Teasing me was one of Hamish's favorite pastimes.

“Let him.”

He kissed me, but I broke away again as the person coming up the stairs entered the kitchen. It was JT, rather than Hamish, but that didn't bring me any relief. Instead, my cheeks heated up and I suddenly didn't know where to look.

“Ready, Aaron?” JT asked with a grin.

“Sure.” Aaron shot one last smile in my direction before heading down the basement with JT. Finnegan trotted after them, his fluffy tail wagging.

I almost followed, but hesitated, my cheeks still warm. I turned for the fancy coffeemaker that sat on the granite countertop, hoping to buy myself some time before heading downstairs. But as soon as I touched the machine, my stomach clenched up.

Maybe coffee was the last thing I needed. My nerves were jangling like wind chimes in a blustery storm, and I didn't think my stomach would be receptive to anything at the moment.

I hugged myself and closed my eyes.

What was wrong with me?

Nothing
, I told myself.
Nothing at all. Get yourself downstairs and enjoy the afternoon. Everything will be fine.

I did my best to believe that, forcing myself into action and descending the stairs to the basement. JT had a recording studio down there where he worked on his own compositions and helped other musicians record their albums. There was also a large room next to the studio where the guys were now set up with their instruments, ready to make some music. I made myself comfortable in a beanbag chair, and Finnegan curled up on the floor next to me. While the guys played the opening bars of one of JT's original songs, I stroked the sleek fur on the top of Finnegan's head, letting the familiar music wash over me.

Usually I found music calming and comforting, but for some reason my stomach wouldn't unclench and my nerves wouldn't stop their clashing and clanging. A minute or two later, Aaron looked over my way and flashed me a grin as he drummed out the song's catchy beat. I sent him a smile in return, filling it with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, but as soon as his attention strayed, my happy expression faltered and disappeared.

You don't feel the way you should about him.

The thought slipped into my head unbidden. I tried to push it away as soon as I was aware of it, but it wouldn't be ignored. It resounded in my head like the sonorous blast of a foghorn. I wanted to cover my ears to shield myself from the thought, but I knew that would draw the guys' attention without helping matters at all.

Sinking down deeper into the beanbag chair, I wondered why I was thinking such thoughts. Aaron and I had a great time together the evening before, so why question things now? I enjoyed his company, spending time with him.

But there's something missing.