Murder for Choir

by Joelle Charbonneau

  “No.” Although it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard. Chessie heaved a sigh of relief, but I wasn’t done yet. “However, I want that e-mail address.”

  “I’ll have to look for it when I get home. My parents won’t pay for me to have a phone with Internet access.”

  Devlyn pointed at the door. “You’ll go to the library computer and get it now.” His tone meant business. Chessie must have thought so, too, because she grabbed her bag and scurried toward the door, promising to return shortly. When she was gone, Devlyn ran a hand through his hair and sat hard on the piano bench. “Well, that was unexpected.”

  “Not entirely,” I said. The slight tremor in my voice ruined the Zen sound I was going for. “Felicia and you both agreed on one thing last night—the notes sounded like something Chessie would do.”

  “Felicia was also right about someone putting Chessie up to writing one of the notes, which means the rest of her theory might be dead on. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still in the same room with me.” His tone was bitter, his eyes angry. He was waiting for me to run.

  My feet stayed firmly in place. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I do now.”

  Devlyn stood up. “You shouldn’t trust me.”

  Uh-oh. My feet twitched. “You didn’t kill Greg Lucas.” I was sure the person who did was out of town all summer. Wasn’t I?

  “I haven’t been honest with you. We both know that.”

  “Everyone has secrets.”

  “But not everyone gets blackmailed over them. Thank God that’s finished.”

  I blinked. “Drew Roane rejoined the team?”

  Devlyn smiled. “I got the call this morning. Coach Bennett’s happy.”

  “‘All’s well that ends well,’ right?” I thought my Shakespeare quote would make the drama teacher in him smile.

  Nope. He frowned. “Remember when we talked about teenage girls and the trouble they can cause for teachers? I saw it for the first time when I was student teaching. A senior girl thought I was cute. She was always trying to schedule private acting lessons with me. Anyway—”

  The door burst open, and Chessie stomped in waving a piece of paper. “I got it.” She handed the page to me, and her eyes glistened with tears. “While I was in the library, I made a decision. If you need me to talk to the police about the notes and the e-mail, I will. I don’t care if it shows up on my school records. I was stupid and mean, and I deserve whatever happens because of it.”

  I was floored. She wasn’t just saying this in hopes of getting herself off the hook. She meant it. This Chessie wasn’t the same self-absorbed, egotistical girl I’d come to know and resent. For the first time, I could see the budding adult under the teenage angst, and I was impressed.

  “I’ll talk to Detective Kaiser. There might be a way for him to take your statement without notifying the school administration about your actions.”

  “Really?” Her eyes filled with hope, then suspicion. “Why are you being so nice?”

  I laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Maybe because I remember what it’s like to be a teenager who screwed up. Besides, I need you to help win competitions this year. I think we have a chance. Don’t you?”

  Chessie smiled. The first real smile I’d seen from her since I’d taken the job. “Are the rest of the dance numbers as good as the one you showed us today?”

  “They will be,” I promised.

  “Then, yeah,” she said. “I think we have a really good chance. See you tomorrow?”

  When I nodded, she gave a wave and walked out the door.

  “Damn it,” Devlyn said, looking at his watch. “I’m supposed to be helping a couple seniors pick out their college audition monologues. They’re waiting for me in the theater. It won’t take long. Can you wait?”

  I didn’t have a car. Unless I called Aunt Millie, I had no choice. “Can you give me a lift home?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned as he sprinted toward the door. “Meet you back here in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  The minute he was gone, I looked down at the paper in my hands: showchoirfan42@gmail.com. Huh. No wonder Chessie thought the e-mail was from one of her friends. It certainly sounded that way to me.

  I packed up my stuff, put the CD player away, and got the room ready for tomorrow. While lining up the chairs, I realized Chessie had given me an additional piece of the puzzle. The murderer had to have been in the field house the last day of camp. Considering at least two hundred parents, kids, and teachers had been present, this didn’t completely narrow the list down. But it was a start.

  I grabbed my purse and found a pen. Then, using the piano as a desk, I started jotting down notes. Thanks to Mike, I knew Devlyn had an airtight alibi and was in the clear. So were Dana and Coach Bennett. If either of them were in that field house, the kids and staff would have been talking about it. The only two left from my original suspect list were Larry and Eric. Eric didn’t have an alibi, but his parents had him on lockdown after coming home. I didn’t see him picking up a gun or rigging my car with explosives. Which left Larry.

  My gut said no. Which meant the killer was someone I’d never considered.

  “Oh, thank God you’re still here.” Felicia poked her head into the room. Her eyes looked freaked, and she teetered slightly on her heels. “I don’t know who else to tell. I mean, I could call the police, but I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do.”

  “What’s going on?” I shoved the paper back in my purse and zipped it partially shut. “Did someone else get hurt?” The fact that we were just down the hall from the first murder scene made my heart jump.

  Felicia clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head. She was wearing a large pink sewing smock over her clothes. It engulfed her petite frame, making her look small and vulnerable. “I checked my e-mail while I was working in the costume shop. Most of the messages were just beginning-of-school stuff. A few students asked for letters of recommendations. I wasn’t even paying attention to the sender when I opened one and…” Her eyes went wide. “I think the murderer e-mailed me.”

  She grabbed my hand and tugged. I could feel her fingers trembling as she hurried me down the hallway toward the dressing rooms at the back of the theater. Her voice was high and breathy as she continued to chatter. “E-mails can be faked, but this looks real to me. I just can’t believe it. He isn’t a killer. At least, I would never have believed it, but he confessed.”

  Somewhere to my left, I could hear Devlyn’s voice. He must be finishing up with his students. I thought about asking him to come with us, but Felicia was on a mission. She pulled me through a back hallway and into the scene shop at the very rear of the building. I sneezed as the smell of sawdust hit me.

  “The costume shop is back here. My e-mail is open on the laptop. Please read it. If you think it’s real, we’ll call the police.”

  Felicia let me enter the fluorescent-lit room first. Three mannequins greeted me near the door. A closed closet door and shelves filled with bolts of fabric took up the back wall. Two long tables sat in the center of the room. A tiny desk sat in the left rear corner, a darkened laptop open on it.

  I took a seat at the desk and clicked the mouse, and a password protected text box appeared. Felicia leaned over from behind me to type. Her breath was shallow and fast as her fingers pressed the keys. She hit enter, and the open e-mail flashed on the screen.

  The message wasn’t long. I started reading and went cold.

  Felicia,

  I am sending this to you because you might understand what I have done. Last Wednesday, I decided Greg Lucas was finished pushing me around and arranged to meet him at the theater that night. I told him that I was going public. That I would tell everyone I’d written his famous song unless he paid me the money that was rightfully mine. Greg laughed in my face, and something inside me snapped. I grabbed the microphone off the stand, and I killed him. I never meant to do it or to let a student take the blame for it. You have to believe me.

 
; Larry

  The e-mail address of the sender read showchoirfan42@gmail.com. The same address Chessie gave me. I swallowed hard as blood pounded in my head.

  “What do you think?” Felicia whispered behind me.

  My legs barely held me upright as I stood and turned around. “We need to call the police.”

  “Oh my God! You think this is real? Larry killed Greg.”

  “Yes.” No. I had never been so certain or so scared. Blood pounded in my temples, and the back of my neck began to sweat. Larry hadn’t written this e-mail. Felicia had.

  An icy streak of fear swirled through me as I smiled at Felicia. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let me call Detective Kaiser. He’ll know how to handle this.”

  Felicia took a deep breath, gave me a shaky smile, and nodded. Thank God. I turned to grab my purse off the desk and felt the prick of something cold and sharp against the back of my neck.

  “Give me the phone.” Felicia’s voice was no longer weak or whispery.

  Oh shit! The metal jabbed deeper into my neck, and pain shot through my spine. Fear gripped my heart and squeezed hard.

  “What are you doing, Felicia?” I asked trying to sound confused, though I wasn’t. All the pieces had been there waiting for me to put them together. And I had—too late.

  Felicia laughed, deep and throaty. The room spun for a moment as I felt drops of blood ooze from where Felicia’s weapon bit into my neck. The sharp pain vanished, replaced by the minor sting of the wound. I slowly turned. Felicia met my eyes, and she smiled as she stepped back. Scissors glinted in Felicia’s right hand.

  I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, thinking I could outrun her and the scissors given half a chance. Then she reached into her sewing-smock pocket and pulled out a small silver gun. “You know what I’m doing, Paige. Give me your cell phone, please.”

  I dragged my eyes away from the gun so I could look squarely at Felicia. “What do you mean?”

  She pouted behind the raised weapon. “I was hoping when I brought you down here that you would believe the e-mail. But you didn’t.” She nodded toward my hand. “Your phone. I can’t have you calling anyone right now. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

  My hand shook as I passed over my only lifeline to help. She took it and placed it on the table behind her with a satisfied nod.

  Trying hard not to hyperventilate, I asked, “Why don’t you think I believe Larry killed Greg?” I couldn’t help asking. The professional performer in me was curious even as the rest of me shrank back in fear.

  She shrugged. “Your left eyebrow twitched. You do that when you lie. I saw it the other day when I asked if you knew who the detective’s other suspects were.”

  Detective Mike was right, and I was screwed. “So what now?”

  “I have to kill you.” The regret in Felicia’s voice gave me a tinge of hope.

  “Like you killed Greg?” I asked trying to quell the fear long enough to come up with a way out of this room alive.

  “He wasn’t a good man. Greg used people and threw them away when he was done.”

  “You had an affair with him.” Devlyn said Felicia had a thing for Greg. The photos in Larry’s office showed Greg leering at her. She must be the affair mentioned in Greg’s divorce.

  Her eyes blazed. “It wasn’t just an affair. We were a team. Do you know how much I sacrificed for him? What I did to help his career? His wife never supported him. She never understood.”

  “And you did.”

  “Greg and I are both creative personalities. Dana couldn’t do the things I did for him.”

  “What kind of things?” Felicia seemed to want to talk, and I was more than willing to let her. Hell, the longer she talked, the better chance I had of Devlyn coming to look for me. I’d left my dance bag in the choir room. He’d know I was still somewhere in the school. I hoped to God that would be enough for him to start up a search.

  A small, sad smile crossed Felicia’s red painted lips. “Greg knew his choir didn’t have the talent to win solely on their own merit. So I helped.”

  “By making ugly costumes for our team?”

  She laughed. The combination of her laughter and the gun made my stomach heave. “I didn’t have to work hard on that one. Last year’s coach was clueless. Not like you. You understand what it takes to win.”

  “Thanks.” I think.

  “Greg understood winning, too.” Felicia leaned back against the table and sighed. “The judges get tired of the same team taking first year after year. They needed a reason to vote for his team. I helped him with that, too.” The sultry, knowing smile she gave me made me pretty sure verbal arguments hadn’t been part of her strategy.

  “You must have loved Greg a lot to go to such lengths for him.” Larry’s photos included shots of some of the judging panels. A couple of the men looked old enough to be Felicia’s grandfather.

  “I did.” Her lower lip trembled. “The two of us were going to conquer the world together—him with his music, and me with my fashion designs. He said we’d go public with our relationship once the divorce was final and his money was secure.”

  “What happened?” As if I couldn’t guess.

  Her eyes narrowed. “He said we still had to be careful. He’d convinced the judge to give him control of the money he’d made with his music, but that could change if Dana appealed. We had to be patient. Greg promised when the time was right, he’d use his money to finance my first collection.”

  “You mean he was going to use Larry’s money.”

  She shrugged. “Larry didn’t know how to capitalize on his music. Greg saw an opportunity, and he took it.”

  “Which is what he did with you, right? He knew you loved him, saw an opportunity to advance his career, and took it.”

  “He loved me,” Felicia yelled as she stood up straight. The gun in her hand trembled as her face contorted with rage. Icy terror snaked through my chest. “He loved me, and then he pushed me away. I tried to get him to see reason, but he wouldn’t take my calls.”

  “So you let the air out of his tires.”

  “I knew he’d have to wait for a service truck, and I wanted to talk to him face-to-face.”

  “But he didn’t want to talk to you?”

  “He said I needed to move on. That he already had. He made a mistake,” she whispered. Her eyes glinted with hurt, anger, and a love-struck gleam that scared the shit out of me. I needed to get away from Felicia—now.

  I edged closer to the desk and tucked my hand behind me, hoping Felicia wouldn’t notice. “You hit him with your car.”

  She chuckled again. “Larry’s car. I told him mine was at the shop and I needed to run an errand during show choir practice. He handed over his keys without asking where I was going. Larry still trusts people even after everything.”

  “But Larry figured it out.” Which was why he traded in his car for a new one.

  “When he read the newspaper report, he came over to my place and asked if I was the driver. I told him how Greg dumped me. How I’d learned he’d been cheating on me the entire time we were together. When I saw him in the street looking so smug, I couldn’t help myself.” Her smile said differently. “Larry suggested I go away for the summer to get some distance. He said it would make me feel better. I thought it had.” She gnawed at her lip. For the first time she looked confused. Some of the red of her lipstick had smudged onto her teeth, making her look even scarier.

  My hand brushed the edge of my purse, then found the opening. Wallet. Gum. Eye shadow. Checkbook.

  Eureka!

  My fingers closed around the can of Mace. At least, I hoped it was the can of Mace and not a tube of lipstick.

  “So what happened when you came back?” I asked, easing the Mace toward my pocket.

  “Greg found me the first day of camp. He told me how much he missed me. He wanted me back. This time we’d get married. I wanted to believe him.” Her eyes got a faraway look, and I slipped the Mace into my pocket while she was
lost in a memory. “Wednesday, I waited for him in my car after camp ended. I figured I’d surprise him.”

  “You saw him hitting on Chessie.” I took a step to the right, and Felicia’s eyes narrowed. Her trigger finger twitched, sending goose bumps racing up my arms.

  “I decided to give him one more chance. I called and asked him to meet me at the theater. He jumped at the opportunity. He thought I was going to let him help select the costumes for the choir. That I was going to do everything I did for him before. He even wanted me to talk him up to you. Greg said he was going to finesse you into helping his team.” I held my breath as Felicia glared at me. “When I told him I wouldn’t, he got angry. He told me how stupid I was to believe he was ever going to spend his money on my no-talent designs. That I was only good for one thing and even that wasn’t so great. And he laughed. The next thing I knew, he was bleeding as I wrapped the microphone cord tight around his neck.” Her eyes met mine. “I’m not sorry I killed him, but I’ll regret killing you. I tried to scare you, but you just wouldn’t go.”

  Yikes. “People might believe that Larry killed Greg, but me? No one will believe that.” Raw desperation clawed at my throat, making me sound breathy and weak.

  I fingered the Mace can in my pocket. There was the nozzle. I would only get one chance at this.

  “They’ll believe what I want them to believe. Now, open that door, please.” Felicia pointed to the door next to me.

  My left hand gripped the door handle while my right tightened on the Mace. I swung the door open and saw a set of stairs leading down.

  A jab in my back told me to move.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Three.

  The stairs were steep. Felicia’s heels clicked behind me as she followed me down. Fear pressed against my chest. I was going to die.

  Four.

  Five.

  I could see fabric at the bottom of the stairs.

  Six.

  It was a costume storage room. I heard a moan to my right as I stepped off the stairs.