End Me a Tenor

by Joelle Charbonneau

  Before tragedy could strike, Jonathan took a step back and leaned against the fireplace mantel. “Unless I’m wrong, you enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”

  I blinked. I guess Jonathan deduced that non-participation equaled stunned amazement. Singing he excelled at. His perception skills left a lot to be desired.

  Giving me another sultry smile, he asked, “So where do we go from here?”

  Mostly, I was interested in going out the door, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he was talking about. Stepping away from the fireplace, I said, “I have a rule about not getting involved with people I’m in shows with.”

  “Rules are meant to be broken.”

  The clichéd line should have been laughable. In Jonathan’s low, resonant baritone it sounded sexy.

  “A few days isn’t that long a wait.” And heck—by then I might be able to come up with a good way to avoid Jonathan’s advances without completely pissing him off. Vanessa was right about one thing: Jonathan wasn’t royalty in the opera world, but he knew the people who were. If he wasn’t the killer, and currently I was more inclined to cast him as Don Juan than Carmen’s evil Don Jose, then I didn’t want him holding a grudge. I was having a hard enough time landing gigs without being blackballed. Juggling fear of losing my career and fear of death was tricky.

  Taking a step toward the exit, I added, “There’s always a chance the thrill of the performance can be mistaken for attraction. I don’t want to make that mistake.”

  The look on his face told me he didn’t think another round of kissing would be a mistake. It was definitely time to get out of here.

  I feigned surprise as I checked the clock on my phone. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I have to go. There’s somewhere I have to be.”

  “I know. The Prospect Glen High School Winter Wonderland concert.”

  My heart skidded to a halt.

  Jonathan grinned. “I looked you up after you mentioned you were a fellow teacher. The high school has the concert listed on their website.”

  Yes, they did. But knowing that was true didn’t make me feel any better. I wasn’t sure if Jonathan’s interest was sexual or homicidal, but I was certain of one thing: I wanted out of here—now.

  “Look, I really have to get going. A student got injured, and I’m having an understudy rehearsal before the concert.” I gave him what I hoped was a non-panicked smile and booked it toward the entrance. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s run through.”

  I was out the door when I heard Jonathan’s resonant voice say, “Maybe we’ll see each other before then.”

  Yikes. I found myself glancing in the rearview mirror all the way to Prospect Glen. I took side streets with little to no traffic just to be certain a silver car wasn’t following me. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel and my muscles taut when I pulled up to Prospect Glen High School. It was a half hour before the choir’s call time. The lot was illuminated but mostly empty. After my run-ins with both Mark and Jonathan and the car chase last night, the shadows beyond the lights freaked me out. Especially since I’d locked Millie’s gun in the glove compartment for safekeeping. There was no way I was going to take a gun into the school. I’d just have to count on Mike showing up to protect everyone.

  Grabbing my stuff, I booked it from the car to the door in record time. Once inside, I headed for the theater dressing rooms to change clothes and pull myself together. Aldo had promised to meet me at the theater’s main entrance ten minutes before rehearsal to listen to my audio lineup. I had to hurry.

  A perk of being a professional performer was that I’d had lots of practice at changing clothes—fast. My quickest change to date involved donning a completely different costume, wig, and shoes in thirty seconds. I had to make that change eight shows a week. By comparison, this wardrobe and hair transformation was a cinch.

  I went into the dressing room wearing jeans, a sweater, and almost no makeup. I came out sporting a knee-length green satin dress, smoky eyes, and killer silver heels. I also had ten minutes to spare.

  My heels clicked as I crossed the stage to check whether everything was ready. Crap. The snowmen had lost its head—again. While a headless snowman might elicit laughs from the crowd, I doubted the school board would find a decapitated Frosty all that funny. Good thing I knew where Devlyn kept the glue guns.

  I flicked on the work lights, walked into the scene shop, and headed for the supply closet. Eureka! A glue gun. I grabbed glue sticks and an extension cord and started to back out of the closet when I bumped into something. No. Not something—someone.

  Oh crap. My muscles stiffened. Was it a student? A teacher? Or the killer? Whoever it was bumped me, and I stumbled deeper into the closet.

  Spinning, I clutched the glue gun in anticipation of defending my life and found myself pulled into a pair of strong arms. I saw Devlyn’s smile before his lips touched mine. My body tingled at the sweet, gentle caress. My brain wanted to smack Devlyn upside the head for scaring me.

  When the kiss ended, Devlyn grinned. I started yelling. “What is with men freaking me out and kissing me today? You scared the crap out of me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Another guy kissed you today?”

  Oy. Of course that was the part he focused on. Not the fact that he’d almost made me pee my pants. “While I was looking in to the murders, I ran into Jonathan McMann. Turns out he thinks we’d make a good couple.”

  “And you told him that you were involved with someone. Right?”

  “I thought getting out of the house of a potential killer was more important than a dissertation on my love life.”

  Devlyn’s voice went up about an octave. “You were in his house?”

  Oops. I should have kept that part to myself. While Devlyn had tagged along during my last foray into sleuthing, nothing we’d encountered could be considered life-threatening. Going into a potential murderer’s home was dangerous. And I had a feeling that telling Devlyn I’d brought a gun with me for protection wasn’t going to make him feel any better.

  I put my hand on his arm. “Look, I shouldn’t have taken the chance, but I was worried the killer might show up here tonight. I was trying to identify the killer before he put any of our kids at risk. You would have done the same.” I leaned in to give him a kiss, but Devlyn moved back and placed a hand on his hip. I waited for him to chastise me again and then realized I could hear voices. Student’s voices. Devlyn had gone from semi-boyfriend mode to gay-teacher mode in two seconds flat. The actress in me was impressed. The almost-girlfriend was put out.

  Assuming the current conversation was tabled, I handed him the glue gun. “One of the snowmen needs a head adjustment. I have something else I have to take care of.” Not waiting for Devlyn’s reply, I hurried out of the scene shop, kicking up sawdust in my wake.

  Since dwelling on the potential pitfalls of my maybe romance with a closet heterosexual wasn’t productive, I pulled out my phone and headed to the lobby. Aldo was near the box office, stomping his feet and blowing into his hands. I played each of the recordings several times, although I eliminated the part where Jonathan hit on me. Neither Aldo nor I needed that kind of embarrassment.

  At the sound of Vanessa’s voice, Aldo nodded. “I have heard that voice. It must be her, yes?”

  I played Mark’s, and Aldo frowned. Mark sounded familiar, too. By the time we listened to Jonathan’s deep baritone, Aldo was completely baffled. My idea to identify the perp was a major bust.

  Trying not to look as disappointed as I felt, I assured Aldo the recordings were to blame for his lack of identification and went back into the theater. My investigative skills sucked. I really needed to keep my day job. I just hoped that after this concert ended, doing my day job was still an option.

  All the snowmen had their heads attached and my choir was on stage by the time I reached the front row of seats. I did
a quick head count. Fourteen members of Music in Motion were here, ready to go.

  Since the band wouldn’t arrive until showtime, Aldo shed his winter coat and took a seat at the piano. I reminded our understudy, Claire, where she was supposed to stand and counted off the tempo. Halfway through the first number, a panicked Larry ran into the theater waving his arms and stuttering up a storm. The programs were missing. They were here earlier today, and now they were gone.

  Reassuring Larry that we would find them, I asked Devlyn to watch the rest of rehearsal and went in search of the missing programs. Part of me was relieved to escape the nasty looks from Chessie and have an excuse to not witness the final run-through. There wasn’t time to fix anything. Any major criticism from me would do more damage than good. What the choir needed most was confidence. Devlyn could help with that far better than I. He’d also calm Chessie down and keep her focused. At this point, the best thing I could do to improve the concert’s success was to find the programs.

  I found the box exactly where I’d watched Larry put it earlier today—on the floor in the corner of his office. Yowzah. The box was heavy. Taking a deep breath, I bent my knees and hefted it up and then teetered down the hallway to the theater.

  About two dozen people were wandering around the lobby when I dumped the box onto a chair near the front doors. I scanned the crowd. No one from the Messiah cast. There was also no Larry. Thank goodness a teenager in black slacks and a white shirt seemed to know what to do with my delivery. He ripped the box open and began distributing stacks of the glossy white programs to the other ushers. The ushers would open the doors to the theater fifteen minutes before showtime, which was fast approaching.

  I watched more audience members trickle into the building. A few parents spotted me and waved. I waved back, took one last look at the growing, suspectless crowd, and headed back into the auditorium.

  Kids in choir robes were milling around the auditorium. The band was loading onto the stage. Meanwhile, my choir was finishing up its closing number. The lifts were solid. The singing was good. I only hoped the previous numbers had gone as smoothly.

  Devlyn congratulated the kids on their hard work as I climbed onto the stage. He looked happy. That could be a good sign. Then again, he was a trained thespian. He could bluff with the best of them.

  Deciding two could play that game, I plastered a wide smile on my face and said, “You guys have done amazing work. You should be proud. Make sure you have fun during the performance and knock ’em dead.”

  My students gave a cheer and headed off to the dressing rooms. Even Chessie looked excited. Huh. Once they exited the stage, I walked over to Devlyn and whispered, “How were they?”

  “Good.”

  I was torn between hope he was right and worry I was being snowed. “Really?”

  He laughed. “There’s a few things you’ll want them to work on before competition season, but they look good. You can stop panicking.”

  Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

  “Have I told you how amazing you look in that dress?” Devlyn asked. The warm smile combined with the gleam in his eye made my heart skip several beats. “Maybe when the concert is over, we can go out and celeb—”

  The sexual gleam in Devlyn’s eyes disappeared as he stared at something behind me. Oh God. My muscles clenched. Devlyn must have spotted one of the Messiah cast members he’d met last night. Jonathan? Ruth? Mark?

  I turned and found myself looking at . . . Mike. He looked every inch the cop in a faded gray sport coat and less-than-pressed blue shirt and jeans. Lurking somewhere under that coat was a gun. Part of me had been certain Mike was going to be a no-show. Seeing him here made me sigh with relief. Devlyn’s stormy expression said the feeling wasn’t mutual.

  “Why is Detective Kaiser here? He doesn’t strike me as the high school choir concert kind of guy.”

  There was violence shimmering under the seemingly calm words. I’d heard the same tone used during a rehearsal for the fall play. I’d poked my head into the room just in time to witness Devlyn’s mild speech expressing disappointment in the students for not having their lines memorized. Then he threw them all out of the theater and threatened to cancel the show.

  Bracing for an eviction, I admitted, “I invited him.” Devlyn’s eyes blazed, making me glad I’d never told him about the car that ran me off the road. Hoping to diffuse Devlyn’s anger, I hurried to add, “He’s got a gun. I thought that might come in handy on the off chance the killer showed up.”

  Thoughts of the killer made me scan the room again. The choirs that would perform later in the program were filing into the front rows. Millie and Aldo were seated next to Chessie’s parents. Gulp. And there was Larry in the back of the theater, talking to Principal Logan and several members of the school board. There was plenty of potential danger lurking even without any sign of a murder suspect.

  Mike took the seat next to my aunt. He spotted me looking in his direction, gave me a grimace, and waved. Mike didn’t want to be at this concert any more than Devlyn wanted him here. Maybe seeing that would improve Devlyn’s mood.

  Nope. Still pissed. It was a good thing the show would start soon or I’d probably say something to Devlyn I’d regret. On a normal day, I might find Devlyn’s jealousy flattering. Tonight, I really wasn’t in the mood.

  Devlyn and I walked backstage as the students’ families and friends continued to fill the seats. My choir waited offstage for its cue. Music in Motion was kicking off the show with its set of seasonal songs. The competition numbers would come later.

  Pretending my stomach wasn’t tied in knots, I gave the kids one final pep talk before taking my place in the house moments before the lights blinked on and off. Audience members scrambled for their seats. The band took its place. I stood in the aisle behind the last row of seats. From the back of the theater I could watch the show, keep an eye out for the killer, and bite my nails without being observed. Multitasking at its finest.

  The houselights dimmed and then went black. The stage lights glowed to life and the choir members ran onto the stage, decked out in their holiday costumes. My heart swelled with pride as I watched them take their places with confidence. And I realized something. That yes, I wanted to keep my job, but there was something I wanted more. I wanted tonight to be a triumph for my kids.

  My kids.

  Regardless of the angst they caused—or maybe because of it—they were mine. If the school board decided to fire me tonight, my emotional involvement with them wouldn’t end. The paycheck had lured me into teaching them. And despite the monetary motivation, somewhere along the line, I had begun to care.

  The music started. My stomach flopped like a dying fish, and I held my breath. I was always nervous before my own performances, but that anxiety paled in comparison to this. For good or for ill, when I was on stage I had control. Here I could only hope for the best.

  Even from back here, I could see the sparkle in my students’ eyes as they strutted their stuff. Their harmonies were strong. The solos were loud and clear and the dance steps executed with smiles. Even Claire looked like she was having fun—well, sort of.

  And then they were done.

  I watched my kids race off the stage for their costume change, accompanied by a swell of applause. They were good. Better than good. Mike had to be feeling a bit silly for putting down high school choir concerts. Now I just had to hope the second set of songs would go as well.

  Larry took the stage as the freshman choir tromped onto the risers. The pianist played the intro. Larry raised his hands, and the kids began to sing.

  Okay—Mike wasn’t feeling so silly now.

  Doing my best to ignore the creative harmony choices emanating from the stage, I wandered around the back of the auditorium and searched for signs of danger. The faces of those seated in the very back of the theater were mostly unfamiliar. Those I did know belonge
d to parents of students. While that was reassuring, there were close to one thousand seats in the auditorium—most of them filled. There was no way to see them all.

  The all-girls choir took the stage and performed three songs. Then it was the Singsations’ turn. Larry’s show choir had more than twice as many students as Music in Motion. They danced less, which was good since a couple of the guys were less than coordinated, and sang with half the volume of their counterparts. But the soloists were strong and a couple kids had a spark that drew attention. No doubt they would be part of next year’s Music in Motion. Would I?

  The concert choir took the stage. Most of the show choir students were in this top choir. Their green and yellow robes currently hid their sequined competition costumes, but I knew they were there. The three songs went fast—perhaps because they sounded really good—and before I knew it, my kids had shed their robes and had once again taken their places center stage.

  The lights changed. They were brighter. Rhinestones sparkled. The kids beamed. The band director raised his baton. I sucked in air and held it as the band began to rock out. Then the kids started to sing.

  I didn’t exhale until the opening lift was successfully complete. The guys twirled the girls into their arms, sending prisms of reflected light dancing across the stage. The girls put their arms around the guys’ shoulders and kicked up their legs. The boys held the girls in basket-catch position before swinging the girls around their backs. When the girls came around the other side, the boys caught them in another basket catch before tossing them once in the air and spotting their partners as the girls jumped to the ground.

  Perfect.

  The execution was sensational. Better than rehearsal. Better than I’d seen them dance—ever. And while the basses could have been louder, the singing was strong, too. The crowd cheered as the music ended with the girls striking a pose while seated on their partners’ shoulders.