A Chorus Lineup

by Joelle Charbonneau

  The competition flew by as the teams danced, twirled, and sparkled onstage. Central Memphis High School made the most noticeable mistakes. Missed steps and tentative singing were in evidence. But the minute they were done, everyone in the audience got to their feet. The team’s performance was flawed, but they went onstage after being dealt a huge blow. They had earned everyone’s admiration.

  Before I knew it, all twelve teams had performed and the lunch break had begun. After lunch, the women’s division would take the stage. Sometime between lunch and the end of the day the list of teams who made the mixed-division finals would be posted. If the judges spotted the flaws in the other routines that I did, Music in Motion would be back on this stage tomorrow. Unfortunately, when it came to judging, there was no guarantee. All we could do was wait.

  The kids were in high spirits when we reassembled in our staging room and then tromped around the corner to get lunch. They professed to be famished. Clearly, they dealt with nerves better than I did because the thought of food made my stomach heave. Still, I ordered a soda and fries so I could enjoy the moment with them. Regardless of whether or not I came back to coach Music in Motion next year, this would be one of my last opportunities to work with this group of kids. Graduation was just weeks away. Soon they’d be off to college—off to live their dreams. I hoped Chessie was right and they would understand my need to live mine.

  Once lunch was over, the attitude was a little more subdued as we went back to the theater in search of the list of finalists. Drat. It hadn’t been posted yet. Everyone started to head out the door to the theater, but stopped when I said, “Could you guys wait a minute?”

  All eyes turned toward me.

  I took a deep breath. “Earlier this week, I received a phone call offering me an audition at the Lyric Opera. The timing isn’t convenient, but this was an audition I couldn’t turn down. I’ll be catching a plane back to Chicago tonight. I hope to still be here when the list is posted. If not, Mr. DeWeese and Mr. O’Shea will let me know the minute the results are announced. If everything goes as planned, I’ll sing my audition tomorrow morning and be back here in time for you to take the stage tomorrow night.”

  The team started talking all at once. A few yelled reminders for me to have fun while auditioning. A couple others reminded me to watch my diction. Not a single member of Music in Motion looked angry or betrayed by my defection. Score one for Chessie.

  Laughing, I told them that I wouldn’t forget their advice and shooed them off to the theater to watch the next round of the preliminaries. Larry gave me an awkward fist bump before following the kids. The minute I was alone, I shoved my hands in my pockets and let out a relieved sigh. My fingers brushed against the sticker from the loading dock, and I looked up at the clock. I had two hours until I had to go to the airport. Time enough to see whether the police had learned anything new about LuAnn’s death or the mysterious boxes from the loading dock. If nothing else, it would give me something to focus on besides worrying about the judges’ scores.

  I dodged a couple of boys still wearing their tux shirts and sparkly bow ties and headed to the lobby in search of the Nashville boys in blue. Or girls in blue, as the case may be. Unfortunately, I don’t think Officer Durbin was any happier to see me than I was to see her. However, since she was the only law enforcement official in sight, I decided to give talking to her a whirl.

  “Officer Durbin,” I said with a big smile. She didn’t smile back. Great. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Are you helping conduct the interviews? The head of the competition told me the police would be talking to everyone who dealt with LuAnn on the day she died.”

  “The Nashville Police Department is giving this matter the utmost attention. Did you have something you felt you needed to add to your statement? If so, I’d be happy to take a report.”

  If that was her version of happy, I’d hate to think what sad looked like. Pretending not to notice her lack of enthusiasm, I said, “LuAnn Freeman called a mechanic to fix the loading dock doors. I ran into him earlier and thought there was a chance he saw something important. I’m hoping he took my advice about speaking to one of the detectives and came this way.”

  “He was here. I’m sure the detective fully appreciates his cooperation as well as yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “I know you’re really busy, but I was hoping you might be able to tell me if they’ve gotten any closer to finding the driver that hit LuAnn? I’m going to be going out of town in a couple of hours, but my team is still going to be here.” I gave Officer Durbin my best vulnerable and worried look. “I’d feel a lot less nervous about leaving them behind if I thought this matter was settled.”

  Officer Durbin studied me and then smiled. I felt a surge of triumph as she said, “I can understand how you’d be worried about your students. But my job is to help close cases, not ease your mind. If you don’t mind, I’ll get back to it.” With that, Officer Durbin stalked off, leaving me standing alone.

  Well, crap. If this had happened back home, I could have asked Mike to poke around and see what he could learn. As it stood now, I would just have to wait like everyone else and hope to hear news of an arrest soon.

  “There you are.”

  I turned to see Aunt Millie barreling toward me. “Is the list up?” I asked as my heart plummeted to my feet.

  “No.” Millie looked over her shoulder at the easel standing outside the theater doors where the finalists would be posted. “I swear, trained monkeys could add up scores faster than these people. Eight scores. Twelve teams. The highest six scores move on. How hard could that possibly be?”

  Since almost every competition took hours to do what most first graders with a calculator could handle in less than ten minutes, I had to guess there was more involved than we thought. Either that or the people in charge of posting the scores got their kicks knowing everyone was waiting for them.

  “If the list isn’t up, why were you looking for me? Did another team try to enlist you for their hair and makeup?” That had happened at two of the regional competitions. Both times, Millie happily sketched makeup designs that complemented the team’s costumes and included a list of the Mary Kay products that would be necessary to make the look a reality. No moss growing under Millie’s feet.

  “Not yet,” my aunt said. “But whoever was in charge of the makeup for the Minnesota team should. The lipstick color was all wrong. Under no circumstances does a self-respecting designer pair magenta and orange together.”

  She sniffed.

  I smiled. “Then why were you looking for me?”

  “Oh, I wanted to let you know that Aldo will be waiting in the car outside the theater at three thirty to take you to the airport. I’d drive you myself, but I thought you’d rather have me and Killer stay here and look after things for you.”

  “I’m happy to drive with Aldo.” Delighted, actually. Millie’s driving always left me worried about whether I’d arrive at my destination in one piece. The only trouble Aldo ever had with a car involved a bomb. The chances of that happening again were slim to none. The odds of Millie getting ticketed for a moving violation were ones every gambler in Vegas would bet on. “We’ll just have to make a stop at the hotel so I can get my bag before we go.”

  “Why don’t you give me the key so Aldo can do that for you? That way you have more time to spend looking into that poor lady’s death. From what I’ve heard, the investigators aren’t any closer to coming up with a suspect than they were yesterday.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The director of Central Memphis High School.” Millie pointed across the lobby to where Nikki was talking on her cell phone. From the angry look on her face, I was guessing the call wasn’t going well.

  “Why were you talking to Nikki?” I asked. If the woman didn’t want LuAnn helping out with her team, I seriously doubted she would take cosmetics advice from my au
nt.

  “I overheard her talking to one of her students when I came out of the bathroom. They were standing in that little alcove. The boy kept talking about things ending because of LuAnn’s death. He sounded angry and scared, which is understandable considering what’s happened this week. I was impressed at the way Nikki kept her voice low and soothing as she told him that endings meant new beginnings and while that was scary she was willing to help him put his life on the right track. You have to admire that.”

  Yeah. You did.

  “Once the kid walked outside to get some fresh air, I walked over, introduced myself, and offered my condolences.” Millie looked at Nikki, who was looking satisfied with whatever turn her conversation had taken. “When Nikki realized who I was, she thanked me for trying to help LuAnn and asked if there was anything I’d seen that could help identify the person who ran her down. She was disappointed when I said I didn’t get a good look at the car or the driver. That’s when she mentioned that she felt the police were just going through the motions on the investigation and that they were wasting their time with talking to people who had never even met LuAnn face-to-face.”

  “Did she say who?”

  Millie shrugged. “There were a bunch of them. A couple of parents who didn’t get into town until yesterday, the FedEx delivery guy, and I think there was even a mechanic who fixed one of the theater doors.”

  “I met the mechanic.” I glanced around to see whether Officer Durbin could hear me. Nope—she was busy talking to Kelly. Neither woman looked all that thrilled about it. “He fixed the loading dock. While he was there, he saw a college kid take some boxes LuAnn left there.”

  “You think those boxes were the reason LuAnn was killed?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure how sealed glass jars would prompt anyone to get run over, but stranger things have been known to happen.”

  “Nikki should be able to shed some light on the boxes since they must have traveled here with her team. Regardless, I hope the police figure it out soon. These kids deserve to end this week without having to worry about something else bad happening.”

  A couple of the teens she was worrying about came out of the theater and made a beeline for the easel. Still no list. Millie snickered as one of the kids colorfully commented on the competition head’s lack of math skills.

  “You know,” she said with a grin, “I’m glad you had a chance to teach this year. This wasn’t the job you wanted, but I think you’ve become a better performer as a result. And I’ve had a hell of a good time getting a chance to get to know these kids. It’s brought back memories of when I was in high school. They’re way better behaved than I was at their age. I would have snuck out of the motel and been in a field somewhere, drinking homemade wine my best friend’s father made in his basement. The stuff tasted like lighter fluid, but we felt so grown-up drinking it. Annie still sends me a bottle of homemade brew every year on my birthday as a joke. The joke’s on her because I’ve consumed every single bottle. Still burns my stomach, but it makes me feel like I’m sixteen again. Kind of like being around these kids does.” Millie’s smile faded. “Look.”

  I glanced to where Millie pointed and my heart lurched. Christine McCann was standing next to the easel with tape in one hand and a pink piece of paper in the other. The list of finalists for mixed company was going up.

  The lobby went dead quiet. All eyes around the expansive space watched Christine tape the paper to the easel and walk away. For a minute no one moved. It was as if people were waiting for someone to be the first to break the tension. So, I did.

  That step acted like a starting gun. The dozen or so kids ran across the carpet toward the list. The adults didn’t run, but we broke records for speed walking as we hurried toward our goal.

  Drat. There were too many people huddled in front of the list. I couldn’t see. But shouts of joy and tears of sorrow gave me an idea of some of the results. Several kids from Scott’s team were exchanging high fives. Girls from Donna’s group were in tears. I shifted to the left and ducked so I could sneak a peek in between the half dozen girls who were currently squealing.

  Yes! Six teams were on the list and Music in Motion was at the very top. My kids would get one more performance, and this time it would be winner take all.

  “When you get back to the hotel, don’t forget you need to run the numbers with Megan,” I told Larry as I stood next to Aunt Millie’s car. My bag was in the backseat. Aldo was sitting behind the wheel, listening to Killer bark and Millie tell him to be careful. Larry had verified and both he and Jim still had a key to my hotel room to store the instruments and costumes. It was time to go. “Don’t let Megan sing, though, no matter what she tells you. She still needs one more day of vocal rest. And try to fix the spacing at the end of the last song. Eric and Chessie weren’t in their window.”

  “I have everything under control, Paige.” Larry beamed. He’d been wearing the same deranged grin ever since I’d found him in the back of theater and given him the results. “Devlyn and I will hold down the fort until you get back. Just make sure you text me as soon as the audition is over. The kids are going to be going crazy waiting to hear how it went.” His cheeks flushed. “Well, maybe not just the kids. I’m going to be wondering, too. Break a leg.”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking over his shoulder. Devlyn hadn’t come to say good-bye or wish me luck. Climbing into the pink car, I yelled, “See you tomorrow.” And off to the airport we went.

  “You should be so proud,” Aldo said, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of him. “The team did good. Tomorrow will be even better. And Millie says the police are getting closer to catching the person behind that poor woman’s death. If there is anything to worry about with the police, my Millie will take care of it. You have only to worry about looking bellissima and singing. Yes?”

  “I’ll try to do both,” I promised. Then, since I couldn’t help being curious, I asked, “Was Millie awake when you got back to the room last night? Did you get a chance to talk?”

  Aldo gave me a toothy smile. “She was awake, but we no have time to talk much. Your aunt was interested in a more . . . How do you say? Nonverbal communication?”

  Eek. That was what I got for being nosy. Next time I’d just wait to find out what happened.

  “But,” Aldo said, flipping on the turn signal, “at breakfast, I say to your aunt that I am thinking about exchanging the ring for a pair of earrings. That way it no go to waste, but she tells me not to. Then she gives me a wink. That is good, no?”

  A definitive yes to Aldo’s marriage proposal would be better, but, hey, this was superior to Millie packing Aldo’s underwear and putting it on the front stoop without sealing the box. Although, the memory of watching a squirrel build a nest from Aldo’s tighty whities was going to make me laugh for years to come.

  “Oh.” Aldo snapped his fingers as he steered us under the sign that directed us to my terminal. “Before I forget. Your aunt arranged for someone to pick you up at the airport. You just have to wait outside the baggage claim. Capisci?”

  “Capiche. Who’s picking me up?”

  “She did not say, but I am guessing you will know them when you see them.” Aldo pulled up to the curb and wished me luck. I kissed him on the cheek and climbed out.

  Chicago, here I come.

  Chapter 22

  The woman seated next to me on the plane snored all the way from Nashville to Chicago, so I was thankful the flight wasn’t that long. It was still light when the plane touched down and I turned my cell phone back on. Every time I flew, I was tempted to leave it active just to prove that the device wasn’t dangerous. But at the last minute I always wimped out. I was 99.9 percent sure my phone was incapable of making the plane crash, but that .1 percent got me every time.

  As soon as my phone powered up, I heard several dings. I had text messages. Lots of them. Two were from my manager, Al
an, confirming the audition time and asking me to meet him at the Wacker Drive entrance of the Lyric thirty minutes before my audition time. The message made my nerves jangle. Managers set up auditions. They didn’t attend them. Knowing that Alan felt it necessary to be present in body as well as spirit made me more than a little nervous.

  The plane came to a stop, and I rolled my eyes as everyone stood and jockeyed for position in the aisles even though the plane doors were still locked up tight. Those who didn’t get into the aisle soon enough stood with their necks crooked at a forty-five-degree angle to avoid bashing their heads into the bins above. I’d learned long ago to just sit and wait until it was my turn to leave. Disembarking two minutes earlier wasn’t worth the frustration or the kink in my neck.

  While waiting for my turn, I sent a quick message back, confirming that I was in the city and would meet him at the appointed time. I followed that up with a teasing question, asking whether he was coming because he didn’t trust me not to get lost inside the building if left on my own.

  As I waited for Alan to respond, I checked my other texts. One from Larry reporting a successful rehearsal. Another from Millie reminding me that she’d arranged for someone to pick me up from the airport and to wait until they arrived. And ten messages from assorted members of my team wishing me luck on my audition. By the time I’d read half of them, I had started to sniffle. After reading the final message, my eyes were filled with tears.

  I swiped at my runny nose as the doors opened and people began filing out. The guy in the row across from me must have decided my tears meant I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, because he insisted I go in front of him. Who said chivalry was dead?

  Even though the flight hadn’t been very long, it felt wonderful to stretch my legs, so I didn’t mind the walk to baggage claim. A gust of cool air hit me as I went outside to search for my mysterious chauffeur. Aldo had said I’d know the person when I saw them, which sounded reasonable. Of course, now that I was here at O’Hare, it occurred to me that cars weren’t allowed to park and wait for arriving friends and family. Police officers standing outside each terminal made sure of that. Unless I recognized the car the person drove, I wasn’t going to have a clue whether the car driving past was supposed to be stopping for me. This was a problem.