Murder for Choir (18 page)

Grabbing another cup of coffee, I trudged up the stairs to my room. The bright red stain on the carpet strengthened my resolve to find the person behind Killer’s attack. I took a seat at my desk and opened a game of solitaire. The mindless clicking gave me something to do while I let my brain think.

So far I’d been talking to people who would make good suspects. Unfortunately, while all of them had a motive, none of them were itching to confess. Maybe it was time to go at this a different way and start taking a better look at Greg Lucas himself. If I could figure out why he was killed, that would help me narrow down the suspect pool. Felicia mentioned that Larry and Greg were the best of friends during their college years. That seemed as good a place as any to start digging into Greg’s past.

Shutting down solitaire, I opened up Facebook and typed in Larry’s name. He had friended me as soon as I was hired. His posts were mostly about his allergies and his dietary
habits so I rarely paid attention. Now I was interested in his school history.

Ha! Larry had attended the University of Illinois, which meant Greg had, too. I typed Larry’s and Greg’s names into a search engine along with the U of I and hit enter. Yikes. There were thousands of entries. A lot of guys named Larry and Greg had passed through the University of Illinois over the years. I started clicking on the entries.

Drat. None of the mentions on the first three pages featured my guys. I added music to the search and hit enter. Now there were hundreds of entries. Better, but this was still a lot like looking for a needle in a haystack. I took a swig of coffee and started scanning the entries.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Wait.

On the bottom of the fourth page was a link to a U of I alum’s blog called
Barbershop and Buddies
. I clicked through and read the bio of blog owner, Jimmy Waldorf. He was a business manager by day and a barbershop singer by night. He listed lots of groups he’d sung in, including Members Only—a male a cappella group from University of Illinois. I rolled my eyes at the name.

I searched through the blog for any mention of Members Only and learned that the group had a lot of success on and off campus. They performed at schools around central Illinois, at corporate events, and at U of I music concerts. Judging by Jimmy’s posts, his entire college experience was wrapped up in Members Only. Too bad for him. But good for me, because Jimmy had taken lots and lots of pictures. Twenty years had passed and hairlines had changed, but standing in the middle of the group were Larry and Greg.

Huh. Now that I’d found young Larry and Greg, I wasn’t sure what to do with them.

I clicked around the blog entries trying to decide. Maybe
I could talk to Jimmy about the Members Only golden days. If Larry and Greg started their feud during college, chances were Jimmy would know about it. The blog said he was from the Chicago area. I wondered if he was still here.

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 situation 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?”