by K C Hart
Also by K.C. Hart
Moonlight, Murder, and Small Town Secrets
Praise from the readers for Moonlight, Murder, and Small Town Secrets
“A quirky hilarious mystery that can help you speak fluent southern.”
“A mystery lover’s must read.”
“This book had it all: suspense, humor, mystery…all while remaining clean and tasteful!”
Music, Murder, and Small Town Romance
A Katy Cross Mystery Book Two
K.C. Hart
Copyright © 2020 by K.C. Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and to intended by the author.
Music, Murder, and Small Town Romance is dedicated to one of my biggest fans, not only in the book world, but also in my real world, my little brother Gene Hart. If I can ever be half the person you think I am, I will have accomplished something in this life.
Love you little brother
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Memories, Murder, and Small Town Money
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Katy and Misty scooted over in the booth to let Heather and Vickie in. The Burger Barn was packed like always on a Saturday afternoon.
“I thought I was going to be late,” Sarah said, pulling up the chair to complete the party. Several patients came in the hospital to get their blood drawn right before my lunch break. I had to hustle, but luckily they were all easy sticks.” Sarah, worked at the tiny Skeeterville hospital, often referred to as the band-aid clinic, as a phlebotomist.
Sarah, Vickie, and Heather, all in their mid-twenties, had come through Katy’s junior high Sunday school class well over a decade ago. The three younger women had started playing together in high school and invited Katy to join them one Sunday afternoon after hearing her sing a special at church. Katy had pulled in Misty to the group on the next practice and their all girl band was born.
Katy turned up the volume on the cell phone and hushed the other members of The Moonlighters. Their band had been playing together for several years, and she thought they were pretty good, but their chances were slim to none for being picked in the competition.
“Alright, listen up,” she said, shushing the other women. “I’ve got it on 98.1, WKLL, and he’s fixing to announce the winners of the contest.”
For the past six years several local businesses hosted the Battle of the Bands. The community called names of local performers into the radio station all month long. Then the top four bands with the most votes would get to participate in the show, which was held in the Skeeterville High School auditorium. The money made from the competition was used to make improvements to the elementary school playground equipment.
“I called and voted for Tubby and the Tubs every day last week,” Sarah said.
Misty raised her pointer finger to her lips to silence the younger woman. The ladies all leaned in toward the cell phone as Rob Clay, the voice around town, began to speak.
“The time is finally here to reveal which four local groups will get to participate in the sixth annual Battle of the Bands, brought to you by Brown Motor Company, Clay House Music, Friend’s Pharmacy, Sweet ‘Ums Bakery, and a host of our other fine local businesses. As you all know, the voting closed on Thursday and the votes are finally tallied up. The four bands with the highest number of votes will be participating in what is sure to be the biggest event of the year for our little town. Don’t go anywhere music lovers! We’ll count down the winners right after this brief message from the fine folks at Brown Motor Company.”
Misty quietly rolled her eyes as the announcer dragged out his speech. Katy grinned at her best friend from across the booth. The man did know how to talk, that was for sure. She only knew Rob Clay from shopping at his music store where she purchased her guitar strings and other musical needs. He waited on her often and was always charming. “You act like you don’t like Rob Clay very much,” Katy said, watching Misty’s reaction to the radio personality’s voice.
“Have you ever met the man?” Misty asked. “He struts like he’s the only rooster in a hen house. He’s more full of himself than anybody I know.”
“I don’t really know him, but I have met him at his store,” Katy replied. “He seemed nice enough.”
Misty’s eyes bugged out as she stared across the booth and the three younger women laughed. “Mrs. Katy,” Vickie exclaimed, “you’re one of the most naïve adult women I’ve ever met. I guess since you are...a little older than us three, and married, that you would spot Mr. Clay’s type a mile away.” Sarah and Heather bobbed their heads up and down in agreement.
“Okay ladies. Leave Katy alone,” Misty said. She looked at Katy and grinned. “Girl, Rob Clay is the biggest womanizing flirt in this town. He has fooled around with more women than there are fleas on a mangy dog.”
Katy looked at her group in astonishment. “You mean that sweet man is a,” she leaned in close and whispered, “a hoochie daddy?” The four women burst out laughing again as Katy stared from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.
Misty dabbed under her eyes with a napkin to stop the tears of laughter from ruining her mascara. “Yes, girl, the biggest hoochie daddy around. I bet he hits on you every time you go in that store and you don’t even realize it.”
“I don’t know,” Katy said, shrugging her shoulders. “He just seems very helpful to me.” She looked at her friends’ faces as they stared at her in disbelief. “Okay, maybe you’re right, but who cares? He’s fixing to announce the winners.”
The women groaned and sighed as the familiar voice of Miles Brown floated from Katy’s smart phone, bragging that his deals couldn’t be beat anywhere in the state of Mississippi.
“Who do you think is going to make it this year?” Vickie asked. “I’m rooting for The Bluegrass Babes.”
“Oh, they’re a shoo-in,” Misty said. “Everybody loves them, and they’ve been around for at least twenty years. Barbara is their youngest member and I think she’s pushing seventy. The only reason they weren’t in it last year is because their fiddle player was going to be out of town on an Alaskan cruise.”
“Well, did any of you vote for The Moonlighters?” Katy asked, sipping her Diet Coke.
The four other women looked at her like she had grown feathers and was about to take flight. “I didn’t,” Sarah said. The rest of the group chimed in their denials as well.
“Why waste our daily vote on us, Katy?” Misty asked. “We’ve never placed before. We just aren’t that well known, except maybe with the adult diaper and denture cream crowd.”
“I guess you’re right,” Katy replied. “But I know we got at least two votes every day from John and myself.”
The women quit talking as the voice of Rob Clay came back on the radio. “Now, what you have all been waiting to hear. I will be calling the winners out in no particular order. Band number one…The Bluegrass Babes.”
Misty looked at the other women with an “I told you so” look.
“Band number two…Tubby and the Tubs.”
Sarah reached across the booth and did a high five with Vickie, which Misty quickly shushed.
“Band number three…The Rough Edge Boys. And last, but certainly not least, band number four…The Moonlighters.”
Diet Coke spewed from Katy’s mouth across the table all over Misty’s face. Misty stared google eyed at the smart phone and never even blinked.
Vickie and Sarah began to squeal and bounce up and down on the benches like a couple of fish out of water. Heather, who was sitting on the end, jumped up and knocked her chair over as she began doing the happy dance.
“What happened?” Mason, one of the local teenagers sitting at a nearby table, asked.
Heather, Sarah and Vickie proceeded to tell everybody in the place that The Moonlighters would be in the Battle of the Bands. The whole crowd began to clap and shout out congratulations. It didn’t matter if they had ever heard the all-girl band or not.
“Misty, I am so, so sorry.” Katy grabbed a wad of napkins out of the silver holder and reached across the table. She began dabbing at the little brown beads of soda running down Misty’s face. Katy stopped and looked at her friend’s spellbound expression. “Misty, honey, you okay?”
Misty finally pulled her eyes from the phone. “We’re in the Battle of the Bands,” she whispered, as a grin crept across her face.
Katy scooped up her buzzing phone, and her daughter’s voice blared into her ear. “Mom,” Kelly Ann said, before Katy could even get in a hello, “are you listening to 98.1? You’re in the Battle of the Bands, Mom!”
“Yeah, I heard,” Katy said, grinning into the phone. “Where are you? Are you in town?”
“No ma’am, I’m at home. I was just curious about who would win, so I’ve had the radio on y’all’s local station. We voted for your band every day like we always do, but I had no idea that you would win. You must be getting popular, huh?”
“I don’t think so, honey. I’m not sure how we won. The rest of our own band members didn’t even vote for us.” Katy paused to think. “You know, I’m going to have to do a little snooping around and figure this out.”
Kelly Anne laughed. “You do that, Mom.”
The following Saturday, Misty’s high-heeled sandals clunked out a steady rhythm as she walked beside Katy down the aisle of the high school auditorium. Two representatives from each band were supposed to meet with Rob Clay and the chairman of the PTO to go over the rules of the competition and schedule practices.
Tubby Robinson and Joe Phobs smiled as Katy and Misty walked up. Tubby had taken over The Wildcats last year after Jessa Williams died, renaming the band Tubby and the Tubs. It turned out that Joe, who had never been in a band before, sounded a whole lot like Dwight Yoakum. He was quickly recruited to sing backup and play the bass.
Katy looked down at her black tennis shoes and then across at her best friend’s cute, stylish high heels. Last year Katy had a close call when Jessa’s killer had tried to do her in. She had been in an orthopedic boot for several weeks, recovering from an injured ankle caused in her struggle with the murderer. She knew that she probably wouldn’t have been wearing heels even if her ankle wasn’t a little weak now. The tennis shoes she wore to see her home health patients were just fine to wear with blue jeans and tee-shirts on her days off.
She smiled to herself as they stepped closer to the rest of the band winners. She was thankful Misty had insisted they keep practicing through her recuperation time. The Moonlighters had come over faithfully two times a week and practiced at Katy’s house until she was well enough physically and emotionally to be out and about again.
“Congratulations Mrs. Katy, Mrs. Misty,” Tubby said, as he and Joe stuck out their hands to the ladies for a shake. “Now The Tubs won’t be the only new kids on the stage.”
The ladies shook hands with the other participants, as well as Edna Morse, the wife of the town coroner, and also head of the PTO.
“Okay,” Edna exclaimed, as she looked around the group. “Everyone is here except Rob, who is late as usual. Everybody just take a seat on the front row and we’ll get started. If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll give him a call.”
The band representatives sat down in the hard, fold-out chairs that had been there since Katy had been in high school a million years ago. She wondered if her name was still visible in a chair on the back row where she had carved it into the armrest on the last day of her senior year. She turned her attention back to the present as Edna handed each person a pile of stapled papers with the rules of the event.
Misty looked at Katy and stretched her eyes in mock concern. “I had no idea this was such an official deal,” she whispered. “We may be in over our heads.”
Katy grinned. Misty had always been a notorious cut up. That’s probably why they got along so well. She nodded in Edna’s direction, who was looking at them over the rim of her glasses perched on her skinny pointed nose.
Misty turned toward the woman and sat up a little straighter. “Sorry, Edna.”
Edna smiled at the group like they were a class of third graders and began going over all the rules and regulations for the show. “Please remember that this is a family event. There should be no profanity, violent themes, or sexual references in any of your music.”
Katy held her papers up over her mouth, covering the grin that popped up on her face. Maybe it was because she was sitting in her old high school auditorium, but listening to the owner of the funeral parlor talk about sexual references struck her as extremely funny. This time, Misty poked her in the side to get her attention. Edna was glaring her way. She was not smiling. “No sexual references or cursing. Got it,” Katy said, lowering her papers to her lap.
Edna finished going over the rest of the paperwork with no further interruptions, then glanced at her watch. “Excuse me just a minute while I call Rob. This is even unusually late for him.”
Edna turned her back to the group and put her phone to her ear. While she was doing this, the voice of Tom Jones began ringing out from somewhere on the stage above the auditorium chairs. “What’s new pussycat, whooaaooaaoo,” drew everyone’s attention as it floated down from the platform.
“That’s Rob’s ringtone,” Edna said turning to look toward the stage. The music stopped as the call went to voice mail.
“Call the number again Edna,” Katy said. She got up from her chair and started toward the stairs on the side of the stage. The rest of the musicians followed.
Edna remained at the foot of the stairs and dialed the number again. Tom Jones immediately began serenading the performers as they followed his voice toward the back of the stage to the dark green velvet curtains. Tubby lifted the heavy curtain just as the song ended again.
The two Bluegrass Babes screamed in harmony while the rest of the group gasped. Rob Clay, skin pale grey with eyes bulging, lay on the ground behind the curtain.
“Edna, call an ambulance!” Katy called over her shoulder as she squatted down and felt the side of the lifeless man’s neck for a pulse, sure of what she would find. Rob Clay was dead.
She looked at the thin line mark on his neck. A wire cut deep into the flesh, and blood had trickled out to form a small pool on the stage floor behind his head. Someone had strangled him with a wire. “Somebody call the sheriff, too. His eyes are already fixed and dilated. CPR won’t do him any good. He’s gone.”
Katy stood and turned to the sound of heaving and retching. One of The Rough Edge Boys was tossing his cookies. “Misty, why don’t you all go back and sit down ‘til the ambulance or sheri
ff gets here?”
“Good idea,” Misty said, looking a little pale herself. She gathered up the rest of the band members and corralled them back to the chairs. Tubby waited with Katy, who had squatted back down to examine Rob’s body.
He hadn’t been dead very long. Katy touched his wrist, double-checking for any signs of life. His skin was still warm. The pale color of death shone through the tanning-bed bronze that Rob wore summer and winter. Purplish discoloration and swelling around one eye looked like someone had punched him in the face.
Katy looked at the thin wire that was still wrapped double around his neck. The end of the wire protruded from behind his head. She leaned closer, careful not to lose her balance and tumble over on the dead man. There was a familiar loop on the end of the wire. She could feel Tubby breathing down the back of her neck as he leaned in for a closer look, too.
“That’s a guitar string,” he whispered from behind her head. “Somebody killed that poor guy with a guitar string.”
Katy nodded in agreement as she quickly looked down the rest of the body. His shirt was ripped at the collar with several buttons missing down the front. A cell phone lay beside his body with the screen busted. She noticed bruising and torn skin on the knuckles of Rob’s right hand. It looked like he had tried to fight off his attacker without success.
A wrinkled piece of cloudy pink paper lay at his side, like he had dropped it from his hand when he was attacked. Katy squatted down one more time to get a closer look at the typed message on the paper. She quickly slipped her cell phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the note.
