Murder for Choir (8 page)

I called the center. Yes, Dana Lucas was teaching there. She had a beginning and an advanced yoga class scheduled for the afternoon. Would I be interested in taking one of them? The beginner class was scheduled for five thirty. That gave me an hour and fifteen minutes to get there. I wasn’t sure what I would get out of meeting the former Mrs. Lucas besides a workout, but I figured going wouldn’t hurt. I signed myself up and typed “Coach Curtis Bennett” into the search box.

Wow. The guy got a lot of ink in the local papers. Probably because his team won. A lot. Scratch that. They used to win. For the past three years, Coach Bennett’s luck with talented teams seemed to have run dry. Last year the team won two games, and one article reported some boosters were saying the coach should step aside. If I were the coach, I’d be pissed. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad suspect after all.

Directions to the workout center in hand, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. After getting a soda, I left Aunt Millie a note letting her know I’d be late for dinner. Then I headed out the door. The class didn’t start for an hour, but I had a stop I wanted to make first.

Detective Mike Kaiser took one look at me being led into the squad room and shook his head. I thanked my escorting officer and strolled over to the back corner desk where the detective was seated. Today the room was filled with cops in uniform writing reports, sucking down coffee, talking loudly, and occasionally lobbing balled-up pieces of paper into wastepaper baskets. This was my idea of what a police station should look like.

The detective leaned back in his chair. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Do you still have Eric Metz in custody?” I asked.

“Did you bring a cake and nail file with you?”

I smiled. “I’m not much of a baker.”

He laughed. “Too bad. Most of the guys around here have a sweet tooth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if ever I get picked up for jaywalking.”

Detective Mike leaned forward. “I took Eric home last night with strict instructions not to leave town. His parents promised to bring him in for questioning when they get back. Does that work for you?”

I wanted to do a happy dance, but my muscles were too sore. Instead I said, “I’m glad to hear it. Eric’s a good kid.”

“A week of teaching at show choir camp gave you that insight?”

I chose to ignore the snide emphasis the detective placed on “show choir.” Face it, I felt the same way. “Musical extracurricular activities draw a group of dedicated, artistic kids. Eric is one of them.”

“He’s also a kid who threatened to kill my murder victim.” Detective Kaiser’s smile disappeared. “I have to take that seriously.”

“I understand, Detective,” I said. “I just want to make sure you’re not overlooking the multitude of other people with motive to kill Greg.”

“I told you to call me Mike. What other people are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have any suggestions when you were here last night.”

“You told me to keep my ears open, so I did.” I rattled off my suspects, leaving Devlyn off the list. The more I
thought about it, the more I was certain he was pulling my chain. “What do you think?”

Detective Mike gave me a smug smile. “I’ve already talked to the ex-wife. Nothing there. The coach is an interesting theory, but no one else mentioned him. And your boss seems to have an alibi. Your student is my best option so far, but I appreciate your initiative even if you’re off the mark. Not bad for a complete amateur.” The phone on his desk rang. “I have to take this. Feel free to let me know if you have any more theories.”

By the time I got out to the parking lot, I was feeling as steamed as the inside of my car. As a college student, I’d heard “you have incredible potential” almost weekly from my vocal music instructors. At first, the praise thrilled me. Then it just pissed me off. I wanted to be fabulous, not just have the potential to be fabulous. So being called a complete amateur irked me. At this moment, I didn’t want to be any kind of amateur. I wanted to prove to Detective “Call-Me-Mike” Kaiser that he was wrong about Eric and about me.

Stepping on the gas, I tooled over to the Women’s Wellness Center for my yoga class, determined to succeed where Detective Kaiser had failed.

The Women’s Wellness Center took up half of a ritzy-looking strip mall at the south end of suburban Glenview. One step into the frigid, arctic air-conditioned building, and I knew I’d never want to come back. All the women in the place were wearing designer spandex on their perfectly toned bodies. I looked down at my red shorts and white tank and considered hightailing it out the door.

“Are you here for a class?” A perky blonde in a black-and-pink-zebra-striped leotard tapped me on the shoulder. She was standing directly in front of the door, blocking my escape.

“I signed up for Dana Lucas’s beginning yoga class, but I forgot my workout clothes.”

The blonde giggled. “That’s the best part about being in an all-female gym. We don’t have to impress anyone with what we’re wearing. Comfort is our top priority.”

A dark-haired woman walked by in a thong leotard. At least I assumed it was a thong. The thong itself had gone where the sun doesn’t shine, giving her what had to be the world’s worst wedgie. Yeah, comfort was king around here.

“Come on.” The blonde grabbed my arm with her perfectly manicured nails and pulled me deeper into the building. “I’ll help you find Dana. Her room is just down the hall.”

I followed along beside the girl as she continued to yammer. “We’ve had several cancellations for today’s class, so you’ll be getting a lot of personalized attention. Here we are.”

We stopped in front of an open door. The blonde gave me an encouraging shove into the room. I stumbled in, and three pairs of eyes turned toward me. Two of the women smiled. One glared and stalked to the back of the room.

“Hi,” I said to the two friendly women. “My name’s Paige. I’m new.”

A petite fiftysomething woman with painted-on eyebrows smiled at me. “I’m Marta. I’m definitely
not
new.” She shot a glance over at the woman at the back of the room and lowered her voice. “If Dana starts to yell at you, just pretend to pull a muscle. She’ll back off.”

“That’s Dana?” Wow. Greg must have liked to live on the edge if he cheated on her. The woman was at least six feet tall with broad shoulders, short spiky blonde hair, and biceps Arnold Schwarzenegger would kill for.

The other woman brushed back a tendril of brown hair and nodded. “Dana’s really a nice person, but she takes her yoga classes a bit too seriously.”

“A bit?” Marta snorted. “She’s a Nazi. You’d think the future of the world depended on the perfection of my tree pose.”

I had to ask. “Then why do you come to class?”

Marta’s penciled eyebrows knitted together. “Dana’s been having a hard time. I know what that’s like. Her ex has been jerking her around on child support and a bunch of other things. Been there. Done that.”

“She’s lucky to have friends like you to confide in.” With friends like this, Dana certainly didn’t need enemies. I hoped my own friends wouldn’t spill my secrets to strangers or at least hold out until they got a decent bribe. Performers were always short of cash. I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to pay the rent.

The second woman cringed. “We’re not friends, exactly. We’re just the only people who still come to class. Now that she’s told us…things…” She swallowed hard as Marta gave her a stern look. “Well, it makes it hard to leave.”

The two women looked relieved when Dana yelled, “It’s five thirty. Find a mat and take a seat.”

The other two women walked over to their mats. Oops. I looked up at Dana. “I don’t have one. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes and pointed toward the front of the room. “You can use one of those.”

I walked over to the mats. My nose twitched. I leaned closer to the mats and sniffed. Dried sweat. Yuck. I didn’t want to sit on someone else’s sweat, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Not if I wanted to get the dirt on Dana. The two other students had alluded to a secret, and I really wanted to know what that secret was. Cringing, I picked a mat out of the bottom of the pile (telling myself most mat borrowers took the ones off the top) and took it back to the center of the room.

I’d always heard it said that yoga helped a person find peace and harmony. Whoever said that lied. There was nothing harmonious about this class. We each sat on a floor mat as Dana stalked around the room like a lion ready to attack. The minute our butts hit the ground, she yelled, “Let’s stretch out those backs. We’ll start with pelvic tilts. Bend your knees. Feet and hands flat on the floor. Now tilt.”

I slowly tilted my pelvis up and stretched my back. Wow. That felt really…Dana stared down at me from her immense height. “Your feet aren’t flat.”

“They aren’t?”

“No,” she growled. “Here. This is flat.”

Dana stepped down on both of my feet and looked down at me. “Now tilt.”

Yeouch.

We tilted. We also did cat stretches and some kind of lunges and stood like trees. All while Dana barked orders about deep breathing and relaxation. By the time she announced the end of class, I needed more than deep breathing. I needed a drink.

The two other students rolled up their mats and disappeared out the door in record time. Dana looked like she wanted to stop them, but she took one look at me and shook her head. Clearly, whatever she wanted to discuss wasn’t for my ears.

“Thanks for the class,” I said, rolling up my mat. “Do you ever do private classes? My high school choir students would enjoy this.” Not.

She blinked. “You teach high school choir?”

“Actually, I teach show choir.” I watched her eyes widen. “I’m new to the school, and a yoga class might be a good bonding experience with the kids. We had a crisis at our camp this week. I found one of the directors…” I looked
down at my feet as if overcome with emotion and sniffled. Ugh. The stench of caked-on sweat hit me upside the nose, and my eyes began to water. I needed another shower. Pronto.

Dana took a step forward and touched my arm. “You found Gregory Lucas?”

I looked up at her confused expression and nodded. “Was he a friend of yours?”

“He was my ex-husband.” With a clear and bitter emphasis on ex. Interesting.

I put my hand to my chest and gasped. Hurray for acting classes. “You were married to Greg Lucas? I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You didn’t know Gregory very well, did you?”

I shook my head.

She choked out a laugh. “Trust me when I say Gregory’s death isn’t much of a loss. At least, not to me. I’m sure there are a bunch of women out there who don’t feel the same.” She tried to act as though she didn’t care, but the way her nails were digging into her palms gave her away. This was a woman on the edge.

I tried to come up with an appropriate response. Nope. Nothing. I was at a loss.

Dana took several deep breaths (way deeper than the ones she taught in class) and sighed. “That must sound unfeeling. Really, I’m not. Our son was grief stricken when Gregory left us. I’ve been dealing with the fallout ever since.”

“That must be hard.”

“You have no idea.”

“How’s your son dealing with Greg’s death?” I waited for Dana to bludgeon me for overstepping my boundaries, but she just sighed.

“He’s devastated, but he’ll get through it. Actually, a dead
father is easier to live with than one who doesn’t care.” She straightened her shoulders and gave me a chilling smile. “Whoever bashed in Gregory’s head with that microphone did us a huge favor.”

Eek.

It wasn’t until I climbed into my car that it hit me. The papers hadn’t reported the head wound, but Dana knew all about it. I wanted to know how.

“Did you tell Dana Lucas that her husband died from a microphone to the head?”

Detective Kaiser looked up at me, a Big Mac stuffed between his lips. He extracted the sandwich from his mouth and frowned. “How did you know to find me here?”

I sat down across from him at the very back corner red-and-white table and smiled. “The guy manning the station’s front desk said you went out for dinner. I remembered you had a McDonald’s bag yesterday when I ran into you, so I thought I’d take a chance.” The fast-food restaurant was located a half block from the police station, which made it an obvious, albeit unhealthy, choice.