Deadly Harmony

by Marissa Shrock

  “Do not say anything about Hamlet to Bobbi Sue, or I’m sending you to stay with Preston or Austin.” I eased my truck into a space right in front of Latte Conspiracies.

  She saluted as she slid out of the truck. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The bell jingled as we entered the shop. A few patrons sat scattered about while Bobbi Sue was wiping the empty tables.

  Makayla walked to the counter and studied the menu. “A Sasquatch Mocha? This place is awesome,” she muttered. “Why have you never brought me here?”

  “Georgia!” Bobbi Sue tossed the rag on her shoulder. “Good to see you! What can I make you?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a raincheck since I’m fully caffeinated for the day.” Decaf was a total waste.

  “No problem.” She turned to Makayla. “How about you, young lady? On the house since you’re with Georgia.”

  “I’d like to try the Sasquatch Mocha, please.” Makayla’s eyes gleamed.

  I made introductions while Bobbi prepared Makayla’s drink. “What do you know about the Quincy Ashbrook situation?” I asked.

  “First of all, I have to say it’s very disturbing that the girl abandoned your car at Fillmore Cemetery.”

  Makayla and I looked at each other. “Why?” I asked.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve lived around the corner from that cemetery most of your life and don’t know it’s haunted?” She blinked at me, and her tone was completely matter-of-fact.

  Makayla drew a sharp breath. “Seriously?”

  “That’s right.” Bobbi Sue poured steamed milk into a paper cup.

  I racked my brain and thought I remembered Daddy talking about people believing that. “Now that you mention it, I may’ve heard something about a phantom dog.”

  Bobbi Sue slid an alien-print, cardboard ring onto Makayla’s cup. “Yep. I could tell you stories about that cemetery from back in my day, but that’s for another time.” She handed Makayla her mocha.

  I loved how Bobbi Sue actually believed the cemetery was haunted. “Let’s assume a canine ghost didn’t drag her away. What’ve you heard?”

  She flipped the rag off of her shoulder and wiped a smudge from the counter. “A couple hours after I kicked you out this morning, a man in a Brenneman University jacket came in and asked a bunch of questions.”

  “What’d he look like?” Makayla asked.

  “Oh, my.” Bobbi Sue glanced toward the doorway leading to the bookstore that her husband ran, and whispered. “I got the impression he was a professor, and if I were single, he could teach me anything he wanted.” She fanned herself. “Tall. Blond. Reminded me of a young Patrick Swayze.”

  “He was at the concert last night,” I said.

  Dr. Jackson had blown me off to talk to the man.

  “That had to be Dr. Kurtz.” Makayla turned to me. “Hold this.” She shoved her drink at me and searched on her phone. A minute later she turned it toward Bobbi Sue. “Is this the guy?”

  “Sure is.” She fanned herself again.

  Bobbi Sue’s description was right on. Dr. Elias Kurtz’s head shot could only be described as smoldering.

  I scanned the text beside the picture. “According to his bio, he’s a composer, pianist, actor, and health enthusiast.”

  “He’s healthy all right,” Bobbi Sue said. “Even though he had on a jacket, you could tell he works out.” She patted her biceps.

  “Does he teach at Brenneman?” I handed Makayla the cup.

  “Yes—he did.” Makayla took a tentative sip of her drink. “This is good coffee, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Bobbi Sue beamed. “I’m always thinking of new combinations for my specialty drinks.”

  I’d try to get Makayla to tell me more about Dr. Kurtz later. Right now, I needed to get all the information I could from Bobbi Sue. “What’d Dr. Kurtz want to know?”

  Bobbi Sue glanced around the shop and lowered her voice. “He showed me a picture of a girl he called Quincy and asked me if I’d seen her—because she’s missing.”

  Chapter Six

  “Dr. Kurtz used the words ‘she’s missing’?” I asked.

  “Sure did,” Bobbi Sue said. “Seemed odd, especially since Ruby Daniels was in here telling me how she was at church this morning and overheard Dr. Jackson say he thought Quincy ran off on her own—and that your ex-boyfriend had done some investigating and was thinking the same thing. Something about Quincy leaving a note?”

  “She did.” I figured there was no harm in confirming what was common knowledge. “We found it in my car.” It was probably best not to mention she’d ditched her ID and credit cards.

  “I knew something wasn’t right.” Makayla gripped her coffee cup with both hands.

  “What else did Dr. Kurtz say?” I asked.

  “He had some questions about local law enforcement and how effective they are. Of course, I gave him my honest opinion,” Bobbi Sue said.

  Makayla glanced at me. “Which is?”

  Oh, boy. I steeled my face—and that was no easy task.

  “Tell you what.” Bobbi Sue pressed both hands onto the counter and leveled her gaze at Makayla. “Things have improved a lot since I was your age, but I still don’t trust cops—never have. Never will. Now I like that detective she used to date.” She pointed at me. “But I’d only trust him so much, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think so?” Confusion flitted over Makayla’s face.

  “Anyhow. Dr. Kurtz seemed worried, and if you want my opinion, he was more concerned about Quincy than the average professor should be.” Bobbi Sue raised her eyebrows. “Especially since the picture was a selfie of them cozying up on a couch.”

  Interesting. Had Quincy been staying out late with Dr. Kurtz?

  As usual, Bobbi Sue had provided great information, but we needed to scoot if we were going to make it home in time to meet Quincy’s parents. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Any time. Again, I’m sorry for kicking you out this morning.” She grinned sheepishly.

  Once we were in my truck, I turned to Makayla.

  “Spill,” we said in unison.

  “Hold the phone.” I buckled my seatbelt. “What am I spilling?”

  “Duh. Why’d Bobbi Sue kick you out?”

  I weighed my options. If I was going to have any chance at finding Quincy, then I needed Makayla to be completely honest about Elias Kurtz—and anything else that might be helpful. There was probably zero chance of her doing that if I didn’t tell her about this morning’s incident.

  “Okay.” I told the story of Hamlet pursuing me and ended with an explanation of Bobbi Sue kicking me out of her shop and my trip to Hamlet’s house to ask him to stay.

  “And that’s when you kissed him.”

  “I never said that.” I started my truck.

  “We’ve been over this. I know you kissed him, so you might as well admit it.”

  “Ugh!” I threw my hands up. “You’re right. I did, but he looked like he was going to kiss me first.” I eased my truck into traffic and drove down Main Street past Velda’s Café and the post office.

  “Your life is way more interesting than I thought.”

  “Thanks.” It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to roll my eyes. “Now. My turn. You were holding back about Dr. Kurtz, and I don’t blame you. It’s not smart to tell Bobbi Sue everything you know.”

  “Remember that when she’s your mother-in-law someday.”

  I coughed. “Whoa, let’s back that train up.” Wildcat Springs disappeared behind us as I sped down the country road toward my house. “I’m not sure Hamlet and I are even going to date.”

  “Because you’re not over Cal?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’m not sure he’s over you.”

  “Why?” I kept my eyes fixed on the road.

  “It’s obvious he still cares about you. He looked so worried this morning.”

  “You think?” I’d thought the same thing but didn’t want to
get my hopes up.

  “Yep. The plot thickens.” She displayed jazz hands. “Hamlet Versus Cal—The Musical. Coming to Wildcat Springs in March 20—”

  “Tell me everything you know about Dr. Kurtz and Quincy.” I dodged a pothole and choked back a laugh at the mental image of Cal breaking into a song and dance—though it certainly wasn’t a stretch to picture Hamlet doing that very thing.

  “Nice subject change.” She grinned. “I took voice lessons from Dr. Kurtz my freshman year, and rumor has it he was quite a ladies’ man. He never came on to me, but Quincy said he made a pass at her.”

  “Did she mind?”

  She shook her head. “Definitely not. She was giddy, even though she was dating Jonas. You saw Dr. Kurtz’s picture, right? But if she was secretly involved with him, she never told me. Anyway, he didn’t come back to teach at Brenneman this year. I heard he decided to pursue a musical theater career.”

  “If he wasn’t a faculty member, he’d be free to have a relationship with Quincy. Maybe she’s been staying out late with him.”

  “I doubt it. She would’ve bragged about being with him.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “See if you can figure out where he’s working.”

  “Sure.”

  I turned into my driveway. Cal had taken care of returning Gretel Grand Prix and had parked the car next to the garage.

  “Got it.” Makayla held her phone so I could see. “Dr. Kurtz has been cast as Captain VonTrapp in the Sound of Music—at Bell’s Dinner Theater in Richardville.”

  We got out of the truck.

  “When does the show open?”

  “Tonight.”

  “He hasn’t been busy with performances, but maybe they’ve had evening rehearsals. Quincy could’ve been meeting up with him afterward, which might explain why she was late.” I unlocked the back door.

  “Makes sense.”

  I hung my keys on the holder. “It bugs me how Dr. Kurtz knew about her disappearance so quickly. If he doesn’t work for the school, then who told him?” I dropped my purse onto the kitchen table while Gus went crazy barking in his crate.

  “He might’ve heard from Dr. Jackson.” Makayla kicked off her ankle booties.

  “But why?”

  She shrugged. “They’re friends? Dr. Kurtz was at our concert last night.”

  “Maybe.” As I freed Gus, I hoped she was right, because if she wasn’t, then Elias Kurtz most likely had something to do with Quincy disappearing and was trying to cover his tracks.

  “Thank you for agreeing to talk with us about Quincy.” Stuart Ashbrook crossed my living room as his attractive, slender wife Janet hovered beside him.

  “We’re happy to help.” I guessed they were both in their mid-fifties.

  “We had no idea when we asked to talk to Makayla that her stepsister is a detective.” He straightened his broad shoulders, unbuttoned his navy sport coat, and sat stiffly on the edge of my sectional sofa.

  Still needed to chat about that with Makayla. “I’m really more of—”

  “We came from the sheriff’s department, and the detectives weren’t helpful at all.” Janet dabbed her eyes with a wadded tissue and leaned against her husband.

  I settled in my daddy’s old recliner. “Did you file a missing person report?”

  “Yes. But that hotshot male detective told us there wasn’t any evidence that Quincy is in danger, and she’ll probably turn up in a few days. That’s unacceptable!” His voice boomed as he curled his fingers into a fist. “We can’t wait a few days!”

  Janet rested her hand on his knee. “He did say they’d look into the matter further.”

  “He didn’t appear motivated.” Stuart snarled.

  I shifted. Don’t get defensive. Don’t get defensive.

  “Not to mention it’s unbelievable that Dr. Jackson continued with this tour when my daughter is missing. I’ll be going above his head with my complaints!”

  Makayla clutched a throw pillow to her chest and looked as if she wished the couch would swallow her.

  Janet turned toward her husband. “Let’s deal with our grievances later, dear. We don’t need to unload on these girls who’ve been kind enough to offer help.”

  His square jaw twitched as if he wanted to say more but was holding back to help keep up appearances.

  “Our daughter loves singing.” Janet fingered her diamond pendant. “She’d never, ever blow off a tour. Chorale means too much to her.”

  Quincy hadn’t given me that impression, but I’d go along with Janet. “Could Quincy have had a good reason to leave even though chorale is important? Her note mentioned there was something she had to take care of.”

  “Oh, no. We raised her to be considerate and responsible. Once you make a commitment, you follow through. It’s how our family operates,” Janet said. “I can’t fathom a single instance where she’d behave like this on purpose.”

  I sneaked a sideways glance at Makayla, and her intense concentration could’ve earned her a PhD in hangnail picking. Given what Sammi had told us about Quincy running away in high school, I was right there with my stepsister.

  I cleared my throat. “Did Quincy run off with a band when she was in high school?”

  Stuart glared at me. “Where did you hear that?”

  “So it’s not true?” I held his gaze.

  “It’s true,” Janet said. “Quincy has matured and regrets how she made us feel during that awful time. She wouldn’t put us through an ordeal like that again. Nevertheless, as a precaution, we’ve already contacted the young man she ran away with. He’s in medical school in California and hasn’t heard from Quincy in years. I’m telling you.” She slammed her hand against her leg in time with her words. “Someone coerced her into writing that note and kidnapped her!” Her tears spilled over.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you, but it’s helpful to have accurate information.” I opened my end table drawer, removed a package of tissues, and passed them to Janet. “Are you anticipating a ransom demand?”

  “No.” Stuart said. “We’re comfortable but don’t have a fortune hidden away. We don’t even have wealthy relatives.”

  “Would your jobs give you access to information that would be appealing to a kidnapper?” I looked back and forth between them.

  “I’ve been blessed to stay at home since our children were born, and before that I taught elementary music in a private school.” Janet dabbed her eyes.

  Stuart patted his wife’s leg. “She also volunteers at the music camp ministry our church runs—Camp Winland. I worked in the life insurance industry for over thirty years and retired six months ago.”

  “We’re terrified that she’s been trafficked.” Fresh tears welled in Janet’s eyes, and she reached for her husband’s hand.

  I wished I could reassure her that things like that didn’t happen in rural Indiana, but I knew better—human trafficking was everywhere.

  Stuart clenched his fist. “These rural sheriff’s departments are incredibly incompetent. Before we left, I told them if something happens to my daughter, they’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  Annnddd . . . we were back to that dead horse. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for your difficulty with the sheriff’s department. That must make a stressful situation worse.” I deserved an A+ for how soothing I sounded. “We’ll be praying for Quincy’s safe return.”

  “Thank you.” Janet leaned forward and adjusted her navy cardigan, which was the exact shade of her husband’s sport coat.

  Had they coordinated outfits on purpose?

  “Did you notice anything strange when Quincy was here?” Janet turned her teary face toward Makayla. “Or in the weeks before she . . .” She ducked her head and swiped her cheeks.

  Makayla twisted her hands. “We weren’t talking that much recently—”

  “Did you have a fight?” Stuart narrowed his eyes.

  “No,” Makayla said. “We’ve been busy this semester, and I’ve got a heavy class load since I change
d my major.”

  “But surely you saw each other in the evenings,” Janet said.

  “Quincy was gone a lot.” Makayla avoided looking at her friend’s parents.

  “What do you mean she was gone?” Stuart’s posture somehow grew even more rigid. “Was she at the music building? Was she working?”

  “All I know was that she was staying out late.”

  “What kind of roommate are you? If there’s something you’re hiding to protect Quincy, you need to stop.” Stuart raised his voice. “Or are you defending yourself, because you’ve been a negative influence on my daughter?”

  I bristled. “Sir, if you continue speaking to Makayla using that tone, this conversation is over.”

  “It’s over when I say it’s over, and I’ll use whatever tone I want.” Stuart’s eyes blazed, and he looked like he was about to lunge off the couch and tackle me—or beat me senseless.

  Janet squeezed his arm.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “She may have a new boyfriend,” Makayla blurted.

  Quincy’s parents exchanged glances.

  Janet’s eyes widened. “What about Jonas?”

  “He told us this morning that he and Quincy broke up a couple of weeks ago,” I said.

  Janet removed a fresh tissue from the pack and dabbed her red nose. “She never shared that with me.”

  There was the shock of the century. “Did Quincy ever mention Elias Kurtz?”

  “The name sounds familiar.” Stuart tilted his head and looked at his wife.

  Janet turned to her husband. “Remember, his mother Sylvia was in my class at Brenneman. We spoke at our reunion and figured out the connection. We all thought it was so neat he was Q’s voice instructor freshman year.”

  “That’s right.” Stuart said.

  I didn’t dare look at Makayla. “Did Elias keep in touch with Quincy after he left Brenneman?”

  “Not that I know of.” Janet stared at me as if she were trying to figure out how that information could possibly be relevant.

  “Hold on.” His expression darkened. “Why all the questions about Elias Kurtz?”

  This was quickly turning into a minefield. “Elias came to Wildcat Springs and asked the owner at the local coffee shop some questions about Quincy after he heard she’s missing.”