The clock struck nine. Millie made a call to a client with a blusher emergency. By the time I’d learned how to blend the cranberry cream to create a naturally rosy flush, I was ready to leave.
“The caller must have been playing some kind of practical joke,” I said as Millie eased the car out of the parking spot. “Let’s just—”
Holy shit.
Millie turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes as a car sped by, narrowly missing us. The vehicle barely slowed as it took a right and zipped out onto the street.
My heart slammed in my chest as I looked around the parking lot for signs of where the car had come from. The three cars from before were still parked out front. “That car must have come from around back of the theater by the loading docks.”
Millie punched the gas. Yikes. I grabbed my seat and hung on for dear life as she rounded the corner of the performing arts center and made a beeline for the loading docks. The tires squealed as she hit the brakes. My seat belt prevented me from flying into the dashboard, but the ache around my midsection told me that this little adventure was going to leave a mark.
Ouch.
I was about to complain when I spotted something in the glare of the Caddy’s headlights that made me forget what I was going to say. On the ground near the stage-left loading dock was a pair of bright red cowboy boots. And from the looks of things, the person wearing them wasn’t going to be walking over me or anyone else again anytime soon.
Chapter 7
“Call 911,” I yelled as I fought to unlatch my seat belt. When it finally came free, I threw open the door and raced across the pavement.
The boots still weren’t moving. My stomach lurched as I realized why. LuAnn’s bouffant, bleach blond hair was now streaked with red that oozed from a gash on her forehead. I was about to rip a piece of material off of my shirt to press against the wound when I noticed something much, much worse. LuAnn’s darkly lined hazel eyes were staring up at the sky and her chest was still as a stone. LuAnn wasn’t breathing.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I knelt next to LuAnn’s unmoving body and put my finger on her neck to feel for a pulse. Nothing. This was bad. But if the car that sped out of here had something to do with LuAnn’s current state, there was still a chance.
Keeping that thought in my head, I gently lifted up LuAnn’s chin like the instructor taught us to do in the CPR class I took last fall. All Prospect Glen teachers were encouraged to take the class annually to make sure we could assist our students in the event of an emergency. I’d considered the class a waste of time since I planned on ditching the job the first chance I got. Good thing the instructor insisted I demonstrate what I’d learned then or I wouldn’t be able to check whether LuAnn was breathing now that the airway was clear.
It was. She wasn’t. Oh God.
Using my thumb and forefinger, I pinched LuAnn’s nose, put my mouth to hers, and began CPR. Breathe. Breathe. Then, putting my hands on the slick red fabric on her chest, I pushed like the teacher had demonstrated. Come on, LuAnn. I pushed four more times. Still nothing.
Again.
Breathe. Breathe. Push. Push. Please. Come on, LuAnn. Please breathe.
“Paige.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I kept administering CPR. Another breath. Another set of pushes on her sternum as I willed the woman to live.
Sirens sounded in the distance. My aunt said that it was too late. I knew she was right. It had been too long. I tasted tears as I tried one last time. Nothing.
Emergency lights flickered. Sirens blared. Doors slammed and feet raced across the pavement as Aunt Millie helped me climb to my feet. The cavalry had arrived. But they were too late. I had tried to keep LuAnn alive, but my skill hadn’t been enough. The weight of that inadequacy settled on my shoulders and after a few minutes the authorities announced what I had already accepted. LuAnn, with her red boots and larger-than-life, pain-in-the-ass attitude, was dead.
Millie and I stood next to the Caddy as paramedics stopped treatment and more cop cars arrived. My aunt dug a box of tissues out of the glove box. I had used almost the entire container by the time a small but firm-voiced policewoman who introduced herself as Officer Kira Durbin came over to take our names and ask if we were the ones who reported the accident.
Accident?
I blinked as Millie nodded and said, “My niece’s show choir team is performing here this week. We were in the parking lot and were almost hit by a car speeding away from here.”
While Millie gave her account of driving to the back of the theater and discovering LuAnn lying on the ground, I shifted to the side and watched several officers take photographs and document the crime scene. Was this an accident as the police officer talking to Millie suggested? If LuAnn was my unknown caller, she could have been waiting here for me to arrive. Whoever was driving the car could have panicked when he or she made contact with LuAnn and fled the scene. But if LuAnn wasn’t the one behind the mysterious call . . .
I shook the thought free as Officer Durbin told Millie to take a seat in her car and then turned her attention to me.
Once she’d written my name, address, and phone number onto her report, she asked the same questions Millie had just answered. Yes, I saw the car that raced out from behind the theater. It was black (or maybe blue) with a large scratch along the passenger side. Or maybe that was just the glare from the parking lot lights. It was dark and everything happened so fast it made it hard to be certain.
Yes, we drove by the front of the facility and read the signs on the door.
No, I didn’t notice anyone walking around the theater or cars driving in the parking lot other than the three that had been parked when we first arrived.
“There were three cars?” she asked.
I nodded. “One of those cars must belong to LuAnn,” I reasoned since all of the cars back here aside from Millie’s were equipped with emergency lights. Although now that I thought about it, I wondered why LuAnn would park her car in the front of the facility and then walk all the way back here to wait for me. Unless she crossed through the building, she would have had to have walked around the entire building to reach the road that led here from the parking lot. That appeared to be the only way for cars, trucks, or people to get in and out of this area. The rest was surrounded by a large wrought-iron fence.
“You were friends with the victim?” Officer Durbin asked.
“We met each other this morning,” I said. “I don’t even know her last name.”
“So you don’t know why she was here tonight?”
“No.”
Officer Durbin closed her book. She must have been satisfied with my answer, but I wasn’t. “I don’t know if this has anything to do with what happened to LuAnn, but I got a strange call tonight.” I pulled up my received call list, showed the number to the officer, and tried to remember exactly what the caller had said.
“Someone asked you to meet here tonight?”
“Well, not exactly here,” I said. “They said the theater, which I assumed meant the front entrance. I didn’t plan on coming, but when my aunt and I finished shopping, I asked her to swing by so I could see if anyone was waiting.”
Officer Durbin’s eyebrow arched. Yeah. Clearly, that wasn’t the smartest idea I’d ever had. Since I’d already told her that much, I decided to tell the rest.
Quickly, I walked Officer Durbin through the events of today, including LuAnn’s strange dislike of me, the ruined costumes, and the falling lights. It was entirely possible that the events were unrelated to LuAnn’s death, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.
“So you think the person who called you tonight and asked you to meet him here was the one who was driving the car that hit the victim?” Skepticism dripped from every word.
As much as I wanted to be annoyed, I really couldn’t blame her. It sounded stupid ev
en to me and I was the one saying it.
“Probably not, but I dated a police detective in the past and he told me that more information was always better than less. So, I figured it was best to tell you about it in case it turned out to be important.”
Okay, technically Prospect Glen Detective Michael Kaiser and I had never dated. In fact, since he’d attended The Messiah back in December, he and I had barely spoken. One moment he was dropping the “love” word into our conversations; the next he was too wrapped up in work to answer a phone call. Which I’d been telling myself was for the best. Aside from our mutual love of French fries, we had very little in common. Still, I was fairly certain he’d agree that I’d done the right thing in sharing today’s events.
After a couple more questions, Officer Durbin asked me to wait in the car with Millie and huddled with several of her fellow officers. Since Millie had her laptop open on the passenger seat and was borrowing the Internet signal from the Starbucks around the corner, I decided not to interrupt. Instead, I leaned against the hood of Millie’s car, watched as LuAnn’s body was being lifted onto a gurney, and felt a tear streak down my cheek. The woman might have been antagonistic and had tacky taste in footwear, but that didn’t mean she deserved to die.
Closing my eyes, I pictured LuAnn standing onstage today with the team of high school students behind her. One of those students was her daughter. My heart ached as I thought about what this news would do to that teenage girl and the rest of the singers from that school.
Wait.
My eyes snapped open. I took a step forward and looked past the emergency workers pushing LuAnn’s dead body from the scene. Where was LuAnn’s purse? Earlier today, LuAnn was carrying a purse. A very large, very purple one. Where was it now? Most women I knew, especially ones who favored large handbags, rarely left home without their purses. Though I’d only met LuAnn today, the three times we’d come in contact, the woman had been carting around a large purple bag. It should have been with her now. But it wasn’t. Did the cops pick it up or had it never been here in the first place?
I walked back toward the scene of the crime and tried to remember when I first spotted LuAnn on the ground. Did she have the purse with her then? Not that I could remember, but I was pretty focused on other things like life and death. Accessories weren’t exactly on my radar no matter how enormous or colorful.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping toward the area where Officer Durbin was conferring with colleagues. “Officer, can I ask you a question?”
She sighed, nodded at her coworkers, and strolled across the pavement. Ignoring that sinking suspicion that I was about to become the butt of several jokes, I asked, “Did you happen to find LuAnn’s purse?”
“If the purse was here, one of my fellow officers will have found it.” Officer Durbin gave me an overly bright smile. “You and your aunt are now free to leave. If I or the detective in charge of investigating the accident has any questions, we’ll be in touch.”
Not the most inventive of dismissals, but effective since it came with a badge. And since investigating LuAnn’s death or the whereabouts of her purse wasn’t my job, it was time to get out of here.
Millie was on another call when I climbed into the pink Caddy. Why anyone needed to talk about facial moisturizers at this time of night was beyond me. As I clicked my seat belt into place, I felt my phone vibrate. Oops. I’d forgotten to turn on the ringer.
Devlyn was wondering when I’d be back.
I typed, “Ran into an unexpected problem. Will be at the hotel soon,” and hit “send.” Technically, we weren’t the ones who ran into the problem, but it was close enough.
When Millie wrapped up her call, I told her we were free to leave. She put the phone down and the car in gear. Thank God Officer Durbin had her back turned or the way Millie hit the gas would have made her think twice about letting us leave without asking a few more questions.
Millie had to slow and wait for the police to remove the barrier they’d placed between the parking lot and the entrance to the loading dock. Once they let us through, I spotted a familiar blond figure climbing out from a black sedan.
“Pull over there,” I said as Christine McCann hurried toward the barricade. “This will just take a minute.” Before Millie could volunteer to come with me, I hopped out of the car.
“But I am the head of the competition that’s happening at this facility this week,” Christine said to the dark-haired officer who looked barely old enough to shave. Despite her bravado, I could hear the tremor in her words as she added, “I need to know what’s happening.”
“Christine.” I waved.
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Do you know what’s going on? The facility manager told me the police were here, but he didn’t give any more details.” She turned back to the cop, who had one hand firmly planted on his hip near his weapon. “I have a right to know what’s going on.”
The guy behind the barricade didn’t look impressed. I grabbed Christine’s arm and tugged. Christine’s day was already going from bad to worse. Harassing a police officer wasn’t going to improve things for her. “Come with me.”
Christine let out a huff as she followed me until we were out of earshot of Nashville’s finest. Officer Durbin already thought I was nuts. I wasn’t interested in perpetuating that belief any more than necessary.
“What’s going on, Paige?” Christine demanded. Now that we were situated under one of the parking lot lights, I could see the pallor of Christine’s face. She could benefit from one of Millie’s blusher tutorials. “Why are you here? Are your students okay?”
“My students are fine,” I said. Unless, of course, they had locked Larry in his room and were running through the streets of Nashville unchecked. “There was an accident involving a car in the back of the theater near the loading dock.”
“A car accident?” Christine let out a laugh and a relieved sigh. “Well, why didn’t the policeman just tell me that? I was worried it was . . . Well, the way the facility manager sounded on the phone I was certain it was something much worse. Thank goodness it wasn’t anything more serious. I mean—”
“Christine—”
The woman in question wasn’t paying attention. “After what happened with the lights, parents are understandably concerned, and—”
“Christine,” I said louder, hoping to derail the train Christine was driving.
Nope. “We’ve been working hard to get the national media’s attention. I know you understand how valuable that attention could be to some of these kids.”
“Christine!” Okay, that was probably way more forceful than I’d intended, but it worked. Christine stopped talking. Vocal projection and power were two things I excelled at. I even had a master’s degree to prove it.
Now that I had her attention, I lowered my voice. “LuAnn was involved in the accident.”
“LuAnn?” Christine squinted toward the barricade. “LuAnn Freeman?”
Maybe.
“What was LuAnn doing here this time of night? If she’s causing trouble again, I swear I’ll kill her.”
“You can’t do that,” I said.
“Why not?”
Eek! Now that I had Christine’s full attention, I had no idea how to break the news. Since people always say the best way to tell bad news or remove a bandage is to get it over with fast, I took a deep breath and said, “Because LuAnn is already dead.”
Christine blinked at me. “Dead?”
I nodded, glad that the worst part was over. Because after finding LuAnn and then having to break the news of her death, nothing could get worse.
Oops. I guess I was wrong, because a second later Christine’s eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled to the pavement.
Chapter 8
Yikes. I lunged forward, but was too late. Christine McCann hit the deck with a thud. Ouch.
&
nbsp; The cop behind the barrier looked at Christine and then back at the road behind him as if trying to decide what to do. Remain at his post or run and help. I made the decision for him. “Don’t just stand there,” I yelled. “Get some water or call a paramedic.”
Christine’s groan and the opening of her eyes negated the need for the paramedics. Despite my urging to stay still, she struggled to a seated position and asked, “What happened?”
I would have thought sitting on the asphalt was answer enough. Still, I answered, “You fainted when I told you about LuAnn.”
I was glad Christine hadn’t gotten up yet. If a blackout had caused her to forget that information, the ground was a good place for this discussion.
Tears glittered in Christine’s eyes. Her mouth trembled. Then, with a nod, she reined in her emotions and slowly climbed to her feet. When the young officer arrived brandishing water, Christine took the bottle from him and demanded, “Is it true? Did someone die in an accident behind that building?”
The officer glared at me.
I shrugged. No one had told me not to share with the class. As far as I was concerned, I was in the clear.
The cop must have thought so, too, since he dropped the attitude and politely said, “Yes, ma’am. There was an accident with a single fatality.” With that the cop nodded and hurried back to his post.
“I don’t understand.” Christine unscrewed the cap on the water. “What was LuAnn doing here at this time of night?”
Good question.
“Maybe she was checking to make sure the facility would be open tomorrow.”
Christine shook her head. “She was one of the first people I talked to after the police and the theater’s technical team gave us the all clear. That was around six. There was no reason for her to be here.”
A Chorus Lineup (A Glee Club Mystery) Page 7
