Deadly Harmony

by Marissa Shrock

  “We certainly appreciate it, Brandi. I see you know my stepsister well, and if it depended on her to feed us, we’d starve.” He flung his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  Brandi put her hands on her hips. “She’s invited us over plenty of times, and we’ve never gone hungry.”

  “Sure. As long as there are restaurants in town. But what if there’s a zombie apocalypse, and they all shut down?” He peeked inside the cookie container and slid one out. “What then?”

  “Then I have a well-stocked pantry I’m willing to share.” She crossed her arms.

  “Oh? I’ll consider that an open invitation to your house.” He winked and bit into the cookie.

  She’d walked right into that trap before I could stop her.

  “That’d be perfect.” Her eyes danced. “I’ll send you out to protect us from the zombies.”

  What’s happening right now?

  “Protection is my specialty.” He grinned and flexed his arm muscles. “Are you going to stay and eat with us?” He shoved the remainder of the cookie in his mouth.

  There was no mistaking the hopefulness in his tone. Good grief.

  “I should get home.”

  He swallowed. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  I could’ve sworn I detected more eye-batting from my friend, but with the stress of the last few days, it was possible I was hallucinating. What was with her lately?

  “Then I insist. You made the food. You should definitely stay and enjoy it with us.” He turned to me. “Right, Georgia?”

  “Yes. Please stay.”

  “I’d love to,” she said.

  “Awesomesauce. Your cookies are great, by the way. I’ll go get Austy and Mak.” Preston bounded out of my kitchen, and Gus scuttled behind him.

  “Sorry about that.” I took a stack of bowls from my cabinet and handed them to Brandi.

  “Why?”

  “You have to ask?”

  She began setting the kitchen table. “Georgia, do you know how long it’s been since a guy has flirted with me?”

  “You’ve been on dates.” I pulled five soup spoons out of my utensil drawer.

  “Sure, but in case you’ve forgotten, Jon Nordmeyer is one of the most serious guys I’ve ever met.”

  “True.” After my stepdad had fixed me up with Jon and it hadn’t worked out, I’d introduced him to Brandi, which hadn’t been a successful match either. “What about Dalton?”

  “He has a decent sense of humor, and we had some nice dates.” She folded a napkin and tucked it next to the bowl.

  “But he doesn’t flirt.”

  “Right. At least—not with me, so I don’t think he’s going to call again.” She lowered her voice. “Look. Your stepbrothers are what? Thirteen? Fourteen years younger than me?”

  “Yeah. They just turned twenty-five.”

  She nodded. “If a handsome twenty-five-year-old guy wants to flirt with me, I’m flattered, and it’s harmless. In fact, it gives me hope that I’m not a shriveled up old woman and still have what it takes to attract a man.” She leaned against a chair. “I know that sounds pathetic, but—”

  “It doesn’t.” But please, please, pretty please don’t date Preston. I couldn’t bear to think of how badly he’d treat her.

  “Relax. It’s no big deal.” She looked at me as if she were reading my mind. Had years of teaching honed that trick?

  “You’re right.” My voice sounded a little squeaky. “He’s just a flirt.”

  Preston burst into the kitchen and flashed a huge smile at Brandi. “Let’s eat!”

  I took a bit of consolation in one small fact. At least he wasn’t calling her babe—yet.

  After dinner, Preston insisted on playing Chinese checkers. I interpreted this as a thinly veiled excuse for spending more time with Brandi. She agreed to stay since she didn’t have school the next morning, so we gathered around my dining room table and placed the colored marbles on the wooden board.

  I sat next to Austin, facing the chalkboard so I could ponder the case while we played. He nudged me and pointed at the wall. “What does Tune have to do with Quincy and the professor who was killed?”

  “Do you use their products?” I asked.

  “Presty and I both do.”

  “I’m into Vivace. I don’t even need caffeine,” Preston said.

  Brandi grinned. “Let me guess. It helps you wake up and be lively.”

  “You know it.” He winked.

  I fought the urge to barf in my mouth.

  “You never answered my question, sissy.” Austin rolled a black marble between his fingers.

  “When are you going to stop calling Georgia sissy?” Makayla asked. “She’s your elder. You should be more respectful.”

  “A thousand pardons.” Austin placed the marble on the board and pressed his hands together. “You haven’t answered my question, oh wise, elder sister.”

  Preston looked as if he was about to explode trying to tamp down his laughter—which I assumed was part of his ongoing effort to prove his maturity to Brandi.

  Brandi giggled—seriously an authentic school-girl giggle.

  Welcome to the Winston-Farthing Circus. “Quincy and her ex-boyfriend Jonas are distributors. So was the former professor who was murdered. Then, we heard Tune has a secret product line of illegal performance enhancing drugs that people can get if they have a password.” I looked back and forth between my stepbrothers. “Have you ever heard anything like this?”

  Preston shook his head. “No. I always thought Tune was legit. My buddy Conrad’s never offered me any performance enhancing drugs.” Underneath his fitted T-shirt, his pecs flexed. “Yep. Probably knows I don’t need it.”

  Makayla and I groaned.

  “Same here.” Austin’s eyes gleamed. “But you don’t happen to know the password, do you?”

  “No.” Then it hit me. Musical terms. Tempo. Chord. Berceuse. Vivace. I turned to Makayla. “Remember the scrap I found in your room?

  Her eyes widened. “What if Forza 12 is the secret password?”

  “Want me to call Conrad and see if he knows?” Austin asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Dude, you think Conrad’s into the shady stuff?” Preston asked.

  “If there’s a secret, Conrad’s in the know.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t dangerous?” Brandi asked.

  “No. But we’ll be careful.” Austin had already dialed and put his phone to his ear. “Connie, my man! Sup?” He listened. “I got Presty here with me. You cool on speaker?” Austin set his phone on the table. “Look, Presty and I want to build more muscle to impress the chicks, you know?”

  “Sure do.” Conrad’s voice reverberated through my dining room. “Want me to order you some Beat Protein Shakes?”

  “Actually, I heard I should ask about the Forza 12 products.”

  We all looked around the table while we waited for Conrad to answer. Instead, a guffaw boomed across the line.

  “Dude, I don’t know where you heard that, but that’s an urban legend.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I shoulda known my buddy Trevor didn’t know what he was talking about.” Austin huffed with fake indignation.

  “No worries,” Conrad said. “Years ago, one of our competitors made up that story to discredit the company. Every so often I have somebody ask about Forza 12. Look, I hope you ain’t thinking about getting into the illegal stuff, man.”

  “No. I’ll be straight with you. Presty and I are helping our stepsister with an investigation, and—”

  “The tall, hot one who’s the farmer-detective?”

  I pressed my hands against my face. I’d never met Conrad, so I didn’t even want to think about where he’d gotten his information.

  “Yeah. The farmer-detective.” Austin stuck his finger in his throat, and Makayla swatted his arm. “She had a tip about the Forza 12 products,” he said.

  “Search for it on one of thos
e urban-legend busting websites, and you’ll see there’s nothing to it,” Conrad said.

  Brandi picked up her phone and typed.

  “Will do. Thanks for your help, and go ahead and order me a case of the protein shakes.”

  “Me too,” Preston said.

  “Sure thing. Catch you guys later.”

  Austin disconnected, leaned back, and folded his arms across his chest. “Admit it. I make an awesome sidekick.”

  “Good work, Austy.” Preston high-fived him.

  “Conrad’s right,” Brandi said. “Forza 12 is an urban legend, though they’ve never proven which competitor started the rumor. Ten years ago, there was a federal investigation into the company, and it’s completely above board.”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose. Now that we knew Tune was a legitimate company, my most promising lead had evaporated.

  After tossing and turning for half the night while I considered other possible reasons for Quincy’s disappearance as well as my drama with Hamlet and Cal, I awakened the next morning, found Dr. Jackson’s card, and gave him a call. He agreed to meet at Brenneman’s student center later that morning.

  Makayla and I decided it would be best if I handled this interview on my own, since she didn’t want to risk upsetting him. Still, she came along for the ride.

  When we arrived on campus, the sun finally came out of hiding, and we hurried along the daffodil-lined sidewalk to the Korman Student Center. Once we were inside, Makayla disappeared into the bookstore. The building had a large atrium with a bear-shaped fountain in the center and a food court surrounding it. Since the college was on spring break, the only place open was Bear’s Brews Coffee Shop.

  Dr. Jackson sat at a table nearly obscured by a massive fern, and there were a few other people spaced throughout the large area. He was sipping from an oversized mug and working at a laptop. Even though he was supposed to be on vacation, he wore a shirt and tie with piano keyboard print.

  “Thank you for seeing me.” I pulled out a chair and sat.

  “You’re welcome.” He closed his laptop. “I apologize for getting so upset with you over Miss Ashbrook’s stunt. You were certainly not to blame.”

  “Everyone was stressed that morning.”

  “Yes.” He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and placed them on the table. “How may I help?”

  “I’m looking for clarification. Was Elias Kurtz’s contract not renewed because he had a relationship with Quincy Ashbrook?”

  He met my gaze and didn’t blink. “Yes.”

  I hadn’t expected Dr. Jackson to answer so freely.

  “One of my colleagues mentioned seeing Elias and Miss Ashbrook together outside of school during the spring semester of her sophomore year. When I spoke with Elias, he claimed the meeting was for the Tune Nutritional Supplement business. I believed him, but a month later, when Mr. Ashbrook came to me with evidence that his daughter was involved with Elias, we had no choice but to let Elias go.”

  The Ashbrooks had lied—or at least Mr. Ashbrook had lied. “Where’d he get the evidence?”

  “My impression was that he hired a private investigator. He certainly has the means.”

  “Did Quincy’s father believe getting rid of Elias would stop them from seeing each other? If anything, it would give them a legitimate excuse to be together since he no longer worked for the school.”

  “I agree. But one simply does not argue with Stuart Ashbrook.”

  It was clear Dr. Jackson would be open as long as I asked the right questions. “Is Mr. Ashbrook in the habit of throwing his weight around?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “How so?”

  Dr. Jackson took a sip from his mug. “I shouldn’t say.” But he looked like he wanted to tell me something. The fountain’s trickling water infused the growing silence.

  I barged ahead. “Did Stuart Ashbrook offer you a financial incentive to ensure Quincy’s acceptance to Brenneman?”

  “Miss Ashbrook earned the music department’s recommendation based entirely on her audition.” He nodded slowly as if he were trying to send a clear message. “She has a lovely voice and a talent for music composition. I gave her name to admissions because she earned it. What happened after that was out of my hands.” He laced his fingers. “My conscience and bank account are completely clear.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said the Ashbrooks are hands on.”

  “No, I most certainly was not. For example, Mrs. Ashbrook manages most of her daughter’s Tune business, though I’m not sure Mr. Ashbrook is aware.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “Elias told me when he was trying to convince me his relationship with Miss Ashbrook was simply a business arrangement—and that he rarely saw her outside of school.”

  I was certain Stuart didn’t know about Janet’s help, because she’d pretended that Elias was simply Quincy’s voice professor and the son of her college friend. If she helped Quincy, she definitely would’ve known Elias was part of her upline.

  Dr. Jackson scooped up his laptop. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment, but please feel free to call if you have more questions.”

  As he strode away, I considered what he’d just told me. Whatever was going on with Quincy, I was beginning to find it difficult to believe her parents didn’t know—and weren’t somehow involved.

  As soon as Dr. Jackson left, Makayla returned with two disposable coffee cups. “I got you a white chocolate mocha. It doesn’t have a cool name like Bobbi Sue’s drinks, but it’s pretty good.” She set the cups on the table and pulled out a chair.

  I told her what Dr. Jackson had said about Stuart throwing his weight around and Janet handling Quincy’s Tune business.

  “I’m not surprised.” Makayla twisted the cardboard ring on her cup.

  “Why?”

  “You know how we talked about Quincy not being a very good student?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Quincy does fine in her music classes, but she gets by in the other required courses because her mom helps. She always edits Quincy’s essays. Not just proofreading. Major rewriting. If Mrs. Ashbrook could come take tests for Quincy, she would.”

  “What about Mr. Ashbrook?”

  “No way. He’s more of a sink or swim kind of guy.”

  If Stuart didn’t know about Janet managing the Tune business, was she hiding her help with Quincy’s schoolwork too? I considered Janet’s naïve reaction about Elias. Was Stuart keeping Janet in the dark about Quincy’s relationship with Elias? If so, what did these secrets they were keeping say about the state of their marriage?

  “Has Quincy ever said anything about her parents’ relationship?” I asked.

  “No. It’s obvious Mr. Ashbrook likes control and is hard to please, but they get along because Mrs. Ashbrook always seems like she lives in a giant bubble. At least from what I’ve seen.” She shrugged. “Who knows? They could just be putting on a big show.”

  I wouldn’t doubt that one bit.

  That evening, I had to have something to feed my stepsiblings, and since I’d been calibrating my planter and working on tillage equipment all afternoon, Wednesday Night Wings at Pizza Heaven would be my lifeline. I drove into Wildcat Springs and waited almost half an hour at a swamped restaurant. I arrived home with honey barbeque wings, coleslaw, fries, and a growling stomach. My hand froze on the garage door opener. Makayla’s car was gone.

  Weird.

  She hadn’t mentioned going anywhere because she was working on an essay, and she knew I was bringing food.

  As I walked inside the house, Gus howled and rattled in his crate. I checked my phone, but she hadn’t texted. An inspection of the kitchen and living room showed she hadn’t left a note.

  I let Gus out and told myself to stop being so nervous. Makayla was a grown woman. If she needed to run an errand, she didn’t need to check in like she was a kid, but after everything that’d happened, it would’ve been courteous if she�
��d told me.

  I sent her a text.

  I’m back at the house with supper.

  I started to message Preston and Austin to ask about Makayla but stopped myself. They’d be home before too much longer. I needed to calm down, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling roiling in my gut.

  After I tossed my purse in my bedroom and kicked off my shoes, I called her—and got voicemail.

  “Argh! What is she thinking, Gus?”

  He followed me back into the kitchen, dropped onto the floor, and gnawed a squeaky toy.

  So helpful.

  I was plunking silverware on the kitchen table with more force than necessary when Austin let himself into my back door and disarmed my security system. I’d already vowed to change the code when this ordeal was over.

  “Please tell me you’ve heard from Makayla.”

  “No. Why?” He slipped out of his coat, tossed it on a chair, and loosened his tie.

  “I went to pick up supper, and when I came back, she was gone. I have no idea where she went. She didn’t even leave a note, and she hasn’t answered my text or call.”

  “Bizarre.” He tapped his phone and waited. “No answer.”

  “I know.”

  He jabbed at his phone and put it to his ear. “You talked to Mak this afternoon? She left without telling Georgia.” He peeked in the Pizza Heaven sack, took out a fry, and shoved it in his mouth. “All right.” He disconnected. “Presty hasn’t heard from her either. He just finished a showing and will be here in ten.” His fingers flew over his phone. “I’m bombarding her with annoying messages.” He stuck out his tongue and snapped a selfie.

  I wasn’t sure how being annoying would help. “I’ll check her room.”

  With Gus and Austin following, I had a major case of déjà vu as we trudged upstairs to investigate. This time, I entered my childhood bedroom instead of the guest room.

  Makayla’s laptop was closed on my old desk. She’d made the twin bed, and her suitcase was tucked in the closet. I strode to the bathroom and flipped on the lights, but only the toiletry bag rested on the counter.