A Chorus Lineup (A Glee Club Mystery)

by Charbonneau, Joelle

  Hello! They were the bad guys. “Don’t the coaches and students deserve to know?”

  “Not according to the lead detective on LuAnn’s case. I called him while waiting for Scott and LuAnn to arrive and mentioned the photograph you had acquired. He asked that I keep the news quiet. When the police ask questions tomorrow, they want people to give answers that aren’t colored by Scott and Donna’s actions. Otherwise, it’ll be almost impossible for the police to wade through the supposition and find out what really happened to LuAnn.”

  Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. I guessed that was why I was a singer, not a detective.

  “I’d appreciate if you would also keep this information to yourself. I know I haven’t given you any reason to want to do me favors.” Christine pushed herself off the bed. “But as heavy-handed as my tactics were, I was right to enlist your help. Now I only hope the detectives investigating LuAnn’s death have your kind of follow-through. LuAnn was no longer my friend, but her family should have answers and LuAnn deserves to rest in peace.”

  Wow. That could quite possibly be the worst apology in history. Then again, when I considered the woman who offered it, I was pretty lucky to receive an apology at all. And now that she’d opened the door to her relationship with LuAnn, I decided it was a good time to walk through it.

  “How did you meet LuAnn? You weren’t involved with show choir before you started this job, were you?” If so, Google hadn’t documented it, which to the students I taught was almost the same as it not happening.

  “Hell no.” Christine leaned back. “I worked in corporate America for years. My family got tired of the eighty-hour workweeks, so I decided to look for a less stressful job.”

  “And you thought show choir competitions wouldn’t be stressful?”

  Christine laughed. “Goes to show what I knew about performers, right? But I made it a point to learn, and Kelly was willing to hold down the fort here at the office and let me. My first year, I traveled to several of the high schools that had been invited to attend the previous year’s national competition in order to talk to the coaches and kids about what they were hoping to get out of the program. A lot of them had been friendly with the woman who’d previously held this job. She’d been a high school coach before being offered the position. Many of the coaches were resistant to the idea of someone who hadn’t previously been involved in show choir running this competition.”

  I remembered my first week of work at the end-of-summer show choir camp and empathized with how Christine must have felt. The students had been snarky and the other coaches standoffish. None of them had believed that a trained opera singer had any business working with Music in Motion. Being an outsider wasn’t fun. I was impressed that Christine had been proactive in visiting coaches and getting their support, and I said as much.

  “It certainly wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” Christine admitted. “Most of them were polite, but more than a few made the suggestion that I hire a real show choir person to handle the creative side. That would leave me free to do what I was good at—monitoring the finances.”

  Ouch.

  “LuAnn was helping out at one of the rehearsals I attended. Her son was in the choir then. When rehearsal ended, she came over and introduced herself. She said she knew what it was like to be an outsider in the close-knit show choir world and wanted to let me know that my ideas to broaden the competition experience had her full support. You have no idea how good it felt finally to have some appreciation of the work I was doing and from someone who understood how frustrating it was to be doubted because I hadn’t been involved in this business for years.”

  Oh yes, I did. Too bad in both our cases, one of our biggest supporters had turned out to be full-out wacko. At least Christine didn’t have her first show choir friend turn a gun on her. I’d been in that position. Trust me, it sucked.

  “When did LuAnn stop being so nice?”

  “I’d heard stories about LuAnn’s conflicts with other people, but I never experienced it personally until this year. The coach of Central Memphis High School denied LuAnn’s application for the assistant coach position, claiming that it was a conflict of interest for the coaches to be related to students who were trying out for the team.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  “To me, too, but LuAnn was furious. She insisted they hold the position open until her daughter graduated. Not surprisingly, the head of the music department refused. That’s when LuAnn asked me to deny the school a place in the competition that year. I was shocked since her daughter was on the team, but LuAnn was determined to do whatever it took to make her point. She said her daughter would have other opportunities in the future.”

  My phone buzzed. I ignored the text. “You didn’t do what she asked.”

  Christine frowned. “I couldn’t in good conscience withhold extending the invitation. Their team was too strong. Not including them would have caused people to speculate on the reason behind the snub. Competitions like ours only succeed if the public views our integrity as above reproach.”

  Christine hadn’t been too concerned about that integrity when she threatened to blackball my team, but I figured now wasn’t the time to point that out.

  “I take it LuAnn wasn’t happy?”

  Christine laughed. “That’s an understatement. LuAnn went crazy. She called at least a dozen times a day, threatening to have the sponsors pull their support. I grew tired of placating her and finally asked Kelly to field LuAnn’s calls.”

  “You weren’t worried she’d go through with her threats?”

  Christine smiled. “I might not know a lot about singing and dancing, but I know how to write a contract. The only way the sponsors could extricate themselves from the agreement was if the competition disbanded or did something that could negatively impact the sponsors’ image due to their association with our organization.”

  “Which was why LuAnn wanted to sabotage the costumes.”

  Poor sportsmanship combined with the information LuAnn learned about Scott’s connection to the judges that mysteriously resigned would be enough to give the contest a lot of bad press and the sponsors a reason to use their escape clause. LuAnn could take out a bunch of birds with one stone. Only someone had plucked her first.

  “I should have known LuAnn had something planned when she called and asked if she could volunteer with check-in.” Christine shrugged. “I thought she was trying to make amends for her poor behavior, so I agreed. Still, I made sure to keep my eye on her at first. But she was so professional, coming in on Sunday—a day earlier than required—to help organize things and handling the loading dock issue, that I believed the worst was over.”

  Wait a minute. “LuAnn was working on fixing the loading dock?”

  “She discovered the problem. First thing Monday morning, she checked to make sure both loading docks were ready for the teams to arrive. When the stage-left loading dock didn’t work, she locked the door to the room that leads to that area and posted a sign on both the inside and outside doors to make sure arriving schools knew to use the other entrance. She then called for a technician to fix the problem. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get on the schedule until today.”

  “So the loading dock door is fixed?”

  “It was by the time I left the theater tonight. As it turns out there was a small metal piece jammed into one of the gears. Had I known that, I would have gotten a pair of pliers and removed the thing myself. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. But to make sure it doesn’t happen again, the technician promised to drop by tomorrow to verify that the door’s working the way it should.”

  “Have you told the police about the loading dock malfunction and LuAnn’s involvement with it?” The whole thing seemed strange to me.

  “I can’t imagine that they’d be interested in a door having a mechanical issue, but I can mention it when I speak to them to
morrow morning.” Christine stood. “I have a lot of phone calls to make between then and now. If I don’t see you before your team takes the stage, good luck.”

  Once Christine was gone, I looked at my phone. Alan had sent another message with a list of songs he thought would make a great impression during my audition. A not-so-subtle reminder that I had not yet informed him of my choices. Grabbing my music binder, I took a seat at the desk and flipped through the pages. Now that the threat of an undeserved early exit from the competition was no longer hanging over my team, I was able to focus on picking music for me to sing on Friday.

  Alan wanted me to sing “Dove Sono” from Le Nozze di Figaro. The song was beautiful and was filled with longing and sorrow. I’d be able to demonstrate a strong dynamic range and legato singing, but the piece wouldn’t showcase my acting skills. Acting was one of my strengths, especially in the opera world. Opera performers excelled at infusing their singing with a wide variety of feelings, but they weren’t always comfortable physically expressing those emotions. If I wanted to convince a big-name artistic director to take a chance on me, I had to prove I had more in my bag of tricks than pretty singing. Which was harder to do than one might think. As a lyric soprano, I found a great number of the age-appropriate songs available to me were about falling in love or being tortured by love, with the occasional prayer to God thrown in for good measure. Great music, but not exactly what I was going for.

  After an hour of humming through music, I settled on two pieces that I thought were my best chance of making a strong impression. “Quando me’n vo” from La Bohème and Elsie’s “Tis Done! I Am a Bride” from Yeomen of the Guard. The second was technically operetta, but the music was challenging and the song gave me a chance to flex my actress muscles. As a backup, I chose Rosalida’s second-act aria from Die Fledermaus. It never hurt to have a German song ready to go.

  That decided, I sent a message to Alan, changed into my T-shirt and ratty sweatpants, and made a beeline for the bed. I had just settled in when someone tapped on my door. There was only one person I could think of who would be outside waiting to see whether I’d let them in. Well, if Devlyn thought we were going to kiss and make up, he was going to be disappointed.

  I flopped onto my pillow and closed my eyes. More tapping. I wasn’t going to answer. Right?

  Wrong.

  After flipping aside the covers, I padded across the carpet, unlatched the door, and opened it to reveal . . .

  “Aldo?”

  He waved his wrinkled hand at me and took a step backward. “You were asleep. I should not have-a come.”

  When he turned to leave, I realized he was wearing the maroon robe and slippers that my aunt had given him for Christmas. The attire wasn’t an unusual sight considering the two of us lived under the same roof. But seeing Aldo wear them in the middle of a hotel hallway was.

  “I wasn’t asleep. Please, come in.” I reached out and pulled him inside before he could shuffle away. Hitting the lights, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Aldo sighed. “Well, maybe a little something. For months your aunt has refused to speak of marriage. She would not stay in the same hotel room with me because we do not set a good example by not being married. But tonight she comes to my room and says we should . . .” His face turned the color of his robe. “Well . . . she a . . . you know.”

  I did know, and I was pretending that I was perfectly comfortable hearing that my aunt jumped Aldo tonight. And that I wasn’t a little wigged out with Aldo calmly waiting for me to comment on that event.

  “Is Millie still in your room?” I asked, not sure why Aldo was here instead of there.

  Aldo’s mostly bald head bobbed up and down. “Your aunt’s a-sleeping. She always sleeps soundly after . . .”

  This discussion was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. I searched for the safest thing to say and asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I’m confused.”

  That made two of us.

  Aldo paced the length of my room while his bathrobe flapped in the breeze. “Millie has been clear about what she does no’ want. But tonight she acts different. And now I do not know what to do.”

  Ah. Now I understood. Millie must have thought about what she and I had discussed and was now looking to broach the marriage conversation. No wonder Aldo was baffled.

  Smiling, I put my hand on Aldo’s arm to stop him from traveling the length of the room for the fourth time. “Aunt Millie likes to believe she always knows what’s right. When she’s not, it takes her a while to admit it. I think tonight she was trying to demonstrate that she’s had a change of heart.”

  “You think?” Hope shined bright in Aldo’s eyes. “You believe your aunt will consider marrying me?”

  “It couldn’t hurt to ask her.”

  “You’re right.” Aldo marched over to the door. Turning, he said, “You are a good girl. Now get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  Aldo was right. Tomorrow the team would learn whether they had a place in the finals. I’d catch a plane for the biggest audition of my life. And the police might decide that LuAnn’s death was a murder after all. As far as days went, tomorrow was almost as big as they got.

  Chapter 20

  Most of the kids barely spoke during breakfast. Their expressions were tense as they picked at their breakfasts. Not even Killer’s pathetic pleas for bacon or his energetically wagging tail could get the most nervous of them to laugh. A few well-meaning parents tried to soothe their kids’ anxiety by saying things like “Music in Motion has competed over a half dozen times in the last few months.” And “You have nothing to worry about.”

  While both were true, I understood why many of the team members were leaving the food on their plates untouched. This was it. The final leg in the journey we had all taken together this year. Hundreds of hours of work had gone into learning and polishing these routines. If they didn’t do well today, many would feel that time had been wasted. They’d be wrong. The work we’d done was bigger than one ten-minute set on this Nashville stage or the opinions of eight judges who may or may not appreciate the choreography. But telling a group of fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds that the journey was more important than the outcome wasn’t going to help. That was a lesson only time could teach. And even then it was a hard lesson to remember.

  “Ms. Marshall.”

  Learning to accept that you had to sometimes step to the side was another hard lesson. Looking up from my mostly full plate of eggs and fruit, I asked, “How are you feeling today, Megan?”

  Her answering smile was big and bright. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I warmed up in the shower this morning and my voice is a lot better. Nothing hurts or feels swollen. So, I was hoping you’d change your mind and let me perform today. I talked to Mr. DeWeese about it, but he said you had to be the one to make the call.”

  Good for Larry. His tendency to look and sound distracted gave the students the false illusion that he wasn’t all that bright. They were wrong. Larry knew the only reason Megan would come to him asking to be put into the number was because she knew what my answer would be.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Megan’s smile grew bigger but faded as I added, “That means your voice will be even stronger tomorrow for the finals. Until then I want you to continue to stay hydrated, keep quiet as much as possible, and take more zinc.”

  Megan’s shoulders slumped.

  “Look,” I said gently. “I know you’re disappointed. But I need you to answer a question. Do you think this team is good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good enough to win this competition?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you’ll be on that stage tomorrow. Just make sure you don’t scream or do anything between now and then to change that.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “That goes for all of you today. We’
re scheduled to perform second. Once we’re done and you’ve changed out of your costumes, I expect you to sit in the audience and support the other teams as they perform. But no yelling or doing anything that might affect your voice. Today is just the first step. You’ll need to be even better tomorrow. Got it?”

  They cheered.

  “I said no yelling.”

  The laughter that followed my exaggerated eye roll eased the tension. The kids went back to eating, but this time friendly teasing accompanied the other mealtime sounds. By the time breakfast was over and everyone was carrying their costumes onto the bus, the group’s attitude was one of eager anticipation. They’d worked hard and were ready for this step. As a matter of fact, I thought, sliding into the seat across from Larry, so was I.

  Or maybe I wasn’t.

  My pulse spiked as the kids hurried off the bus at the performing arts center. I couldn’t say how much of my nerves were due to the upcoming performance or related to the three police squad cars parked near the entrance. Despite the text Larry had received saying that the left-stage loading dock was now operational and that the police were allowing people to use that entrance, we opted to have the bus park in front. The day was going to be stressful enough without the kids seeing the exact spot where LuAnn Freeman had been mowed down.

  A slightly stuttering Larry, an enthusiastic Jim, and an overly polite Devlyn helped the kids get their costumes and instruments off the bus and into our staging room. Meanwhile, I helped Millie with her makeup kit.

  “Kit” implied something small and contained. So that might have been a misnomer for the arsenal that Millie had hauled all the way from Chicago. Lit mirrors. Six sets of curlers and four curling irons. Two blow-dryers. Dozens of large powder puffs, eyelash curlers, bottles of cold cream, and application sponges. Not to mention box after box of foundation, eye shadow of every hue, mascara, lipstick, and blush. Hurray for Mary Kay!