Out of Tune

by Norah McClintock

  I rushed home to do my homework and get changed for the memorial service.

  Aunt Ginny came home earlier than usual. Like me, she was planning to attend. Josh Martin would probably be there too, watching to see who did and didn’t attend, checking what people did and what they looked like. She offered me a ride and told me to get a move on because she wanted to be there before the first guests arrived.

  I sped through a shower and got changed and was about to head downstairs when I heard voices—a man’s and Aunt Ginny’s. Rather than interrupt, I waited at the top of the stairs.

  “You must be the lady of the house,” he said. I imagined Aunt Ginny bristling at the term.

  “I pay the rent, if that’s what you mean,” Aunt Ginny said tartly. She wasn’t what I would call a raging feminist, but she sure didn’t like being called lady of the house.

  The man said he did all kinds of repair and maintenance, and he was looking for work.

  “No job is too small, that’s my motto,” he said.

  Aunt Ginny dismissed him with a curt “Thanks, but no thanks” before closing the door firmly and turning to call me. She was pleasantly surprised to see me on the stairs, scrubbed and ready to go.

  The memorial service was held in a plush-carpeted, wood-paneled room at a funeral home in town. The parking lot already had a few cars in it when we arrived. Aunt Ginny pulled up to the curb. She did not shut off the car’s engine.

  “Aren’t you coming inside?”

  She shook her head. “Got a call from Josh while you were in the shower. I have to go in to work. Call me when you’re ready to go home.”

  I got out of the car and waited near the front door of the funeral home for Ashleigh and Charlie.

  Charlie arrived first. He was wearing a suit and a tie.

  “You look amazing,” I said.

  He blushed.

  Ashleigh arrived a minute later. She took in Charlie’s suit without comment, and the three of us went inside.

  A large full-color picture of Alicia sat on an easel at the front of the room beside a lectern. A man in a charcoal-gray suit greeted us at the door. A tasteful brass name tag on his breast pocket identified him as a funeral home employee named Ronald Bishop. He directed us to a guest book sitting on another lectern with yet another photograph of Alicia beside it. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also photogenic. The camera seemed to love her. Charlie signed first and penned a brief message of sympathy to her parents. It turned out to be an excerpt from a poem. Ashleigh read it and groaned.

  “What am I supposed to write?” she said.

  “Just write whatever you feel,” Charlie said. “Be sincere.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Ashleigh took the pen from him, signed her name and scrawled a brief comment—With sympathy. I ended up doing the same thing.

  Alicia’s parents were standing not far from the door, next to one of the two large photo displays of Alicia. Her father’s face was almost a perfect match to the gray of his hair. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, and his black suit looked too large for his gaunt frame. Beside him, his wife stood straight and tall, her mouth tightly set as if she had promised herself she was not going to cry. She wore a simple black dress with black shoes and little gold hoop earrings. Charlie headed toward them. Ashleigh groaned when I started to follow him.

  “Do we have to?” She sounded like a whiny six-year-old.

  “We have to.” Grandpa Jimmy had taught me that. There are times when you have to do things simply because they are the right things to do and not doing them would be hurtful. “Come on.”

  “I hate this part. I never know what to say.”

  “Just say you’re sorry,” I said.

  Mrs. Allen took one of Charlie’s hands in both of hers and thanked him for coming. A tear formed in the corner of her eye when Charlie said he would never forget hearing Alicia play her violin under the stars the night of her parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. He said it was like an angel making music. Mr. Allen turned away to wipe his own eyes.

  Ashleigh nudged me ahead of her.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said to the Allens. “I didn’t know Alicia very well.” Massive understatement. “But I knew her playing, and I know how well liked she was.”

  “Thanks a bunch,” Ashleigh grumbled in my ear.

  “I remember you from the search party,” Mrs. Allen said, clasping my hand in both of hers. “Thank you for helping.”

  Ashleigh was next. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said simply. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when we were able to sit down. Charlie wanted to sit up front. Ashleigh refused. I wanted to sit near the back, where I would be able to see everyone. When Charlie refused that too, we compromised by splitting up. Charlie sat up front, and Ashleigh and I sat in the back row near the door, which suited me because it gave me a good view of the whole room and all the people in it.

  The room filled up quickly, until it was standing room only. Most of the teachers from school were there. So were Mrs. Dekes and Mr. Chen. At least half the people there were kids from school, friends of Alicia’s. Ronald Bishop moved to the room’s double doors and began to close them. He was blocked by the sudden appearance of a tall skinny kid with large bony hands. Simon Phillips, the piano player from school. His ash-blond hair was swept back from his forehead. He was wearing a black suit with a pale blue tie, which made him look even taller and skinnier than usual. He spoke briefly to Mr. Bishop, who then went and whispered in Mr. Allen’s ear. Both Mr. and Mrs. Allen turned to look at Simon, but only Mr. Allen followed the man back to the door.

  “Mr. Allen, I need the necklace back.” Simon’s voice was jarringly loud. Mrs. Allen must have heard him, because she turned and looked.

  “Necklace?” Mr. Allen looked confused.

  “The one I gave her.”

  Ashleigh leaned in close to me. “I know the one he means. It’s gold, I think. It’s really beautiful. It looks like some kind of antique. I bet it’s expensive.”

  “Simon, if you could keep your voice down,” Mr. Allen said.

  Simon obliged, but as close to the door as I was, I had no trouble hearing him. I tried not to be obvious about eavesdropping.

  “I really need that necklace back, Mr. Allen,” Simon said, his voice more of a stage whisper now.

  “I had no idea you’d given Alicia a necklace, Simon.”

  Mrs. Allen was crossing the room to join her husband.

  “Well, I did. I gave it to her a week ago,” Simon said.

  “He says he gave Alicia a necklace,” Mr. Allen explained to his wife.

  “Did he?” She looked at Simon. “Did you, Simon? I don’t remember Alicia saying anything about it or wearing it. I know it’s not in her room, because the police asked me to go through all her jewelry to see if anything was missing. Nothing was.”

  “No, no, no.” Simon shook his head vigorously. “She was wearing it. She wore it every day after I gave it to her.”

  “I don’t think this is the time to be worrying about a necklace, Simon,” Mr. Allen said. “Mrs. Allen is upset enough as it is. When we get around to it, we’ll see if we can find it.”

  “No.” Simon’s loud voice once again attracted the attention of everyone in the room—including his uncle, Mr. Todd. He was in the front row, but he stood up and headed for the back of the room. “You don’t understand,” Simon said. “It was special. It belonged to my grandmother. She gave it to my mother. I have to get it back.”

  “I said we’ll look for it, Simon, and we will.” Mr. Allen looked pleadingly at Mr. Bishop, who touched Simon’s arm in an attempt to steer him out of the room.

  “She was wearing it. She was wearing it, and I need it back.”

  Mr. Bishop closed his hand around Simon’s arm.

  “We’re going to start the service now,” he said. “If you want to stay, you have to be quiet.”

  Simon opened his mouth to protest. But before he could speak, Mr. Todd said, “Sto
p right this minute, Simon. Either go and sit down or go outside and cool off.”

  Simon spun on one heel and left the room.

  “I’m so sorry, Roger,” Mr. Todd said to Mr. Allen. “Phyllis, I apologize, but you know how Simon can be.”

  Mrs. Allen nodded and offered a weak smile.

  Mr. Bishop leaned in to Mr. Todd and whispered something. Everyone took their places. I slid out of my seat and chased after Simon.

  “Hey,” Ashleigh hissed as the door closed behind me.

  Simon was at the far end of the thickly carpeted hall. I had to run to catch him.

  “Simon?”

  He turned and looked down at me. “Do I know you?”

  “I go to your school. My name is Riley. The necklace you were talking about—”

  “You know where it is?”

  “No. No, I’m sorry. You said Alicia was wearing the necklace you gave her. I was just wondering—when was the last time you saw her wearing it?”

  “Last week. Before she…before she…” His lower lip began to tremble.

  “Did you see her wearing it the day she disappeared?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “You must have really cared for her,” I said slowly. “I mean, if you gave her your grandmother’s necklace.”

  “We were close,” Simon said, and for the first time I saw a blaze of emotion other than anger in his face. If you ask me, it was love.

  “Are you sure about the last time you saw her, Simon? You didn’t see her later? Maybe you lost track of time?”

  Suddenly he was furious. “Why are you asking me all these questions? What do you have to do with Alicia? You didn’t even know her.”

  He pushed his way through the door and into the night.

  I hurried back into the room where the service was already under way. The room was packed. Tina and Desiree were in the third row from the front. Brendan Mitchell was in the row in front of them. The mayor was there. So were the local member of the provincial legislature and the local Member of Parliament. The chief of police was there in full uniform. I thought it was too bad that Aunt Ginny and Josh Martin weren’t there—or any other police officers, for that matter. It seemed a perfect spot to observe and listen and even talk to people.

  I slipped into my seat next to Ashleigh and half listened to the tributes to Alicia, starting with her church minister’s. He was followed by several of her friends. A girl named Catha, who called Alicia her best friend, spoke, as did a boy named Lomax, whose family was close to the Allens—they were next-door neighbors in cottage country as well as in town. Mrs. Dekes spoke. Mr. Todd spoke. I glanced at Ashleigh halfway through his eulogy.

  “Alicia was by far the most talented young violinist that I have ever encountered in my nearly fifty years of life in music. Hers was a natural talent that understood instinctively how to coax exquisite music from her instrument. Her playing would make the angels weep, it was that beautiful. She had so much to give, whether she realized it or not. Not only will I miss her, but the whole world is missing out on an outstanding musical talent.”

  Ashleigh rolled her eyes. When I looked at her disapprovingly, she was unrepentant.

  “The whole world? Give me a break,” she hissed.

  The final speaker was Mr. Allen. He clasped the podium with both hands, and when he began to talk, he was so overcome by emotion that he had to stop almost immediately. The whole audience held its collective breath, wondering if the poor man was going to break down. Who wouldn’t, having lost a child to murder? But he didn’t break down. He raised his head slowly, and he painted a picture of the day Alicia was born. Other story pictures followed—Alicia mesmerized by the sound of a violin. Alicia crying, disappointed, after her first attempt to make the violin sing. Alicia’s eyes, filled with passion, as she played complex pieces with increasing ease. Alicia in her spare time (What spare time? I wondered), skiing, swimming, lifeguarding at the beach the past summer, laughing with her friends, always laughing, always cheerful, always sunny. Some people sniffled. Some people cried. Almost everyone was red-eyed by the time Mr. Allen had finished.

  When it was over, Mr. Bishop invited everyone to step into the room across the hall for light refreshments. Mr. and Mrs. Allen left first, and slowly everyone else stood and shuffled after them. Tina, I noticed, zipped over to Brendan and started talking to him. They left the room together. Ashleigh and I stood up.

  “Now what?” Ashleigh asked.

  I glanced around. “Did you see where Charlie went?”

  Ashleigh scanned the room. “He probably went for food. Let’s go find him. I want to get out of here.”

  Desiree hurried back into the room and stopped just past the threshold. She seemed to be looking for someone.

  “You go look for Charlie,” I said to Ashleigh.

  She glanced at Desiree, then at me, and shrugged. “We’ll be at the refreshments.”

  I approached Desiree.

  “Are you okay? You look a little shaky,” I said.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “I saw Carrie yesterday.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did? Is she okay? I keep trying, but I still can’t get through to her.”

  “She’s scared.” I let Desiree absorb that. “She thinks the police are convinced she’s guilty. Do you think she did it, Desiree? Is Carrie the kind of person who could have killed Alicia?”

  “No! Carrie would never do anything like that! Never!”

  “What about that note they found in the music room?”

  Her eyes shifted away from mine. “I have to go. I have to find Tina.”

  “I saw her a minute ago. She was with Brendan Mitchell. It didn’t look like she was in any hurry to leave.”

  “She is?” Desiree stepped out into the hall and looked around, as if she didn’t believe me.

  “Desiree, do you know anything about the note?” I asked again. When she didn’t answer, I added, “Carrie is in big trouble. You keep saying you’re her friend. If you know something, then you should tell the cops. Carrie could end up in prison. It’s no joke.”

  Tears sprang to Desiree’s eyes.

  “Desiree?”

  “Not here,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere.” She walked quickly down the hall, and I followed her out into the chilly night. Desiree looked around to satisfy herself that we were alone, and even then she kept her voice low.

  “You have to warn Carrie about Tina.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She glanced around again.

  “Desiree?”

  “It’s all Tina’s fault.” She seemed to hold herself straighter once she’d said it, as if a giant weight had been lifted off her.

  “What’s all Tina’s fault?”

  “It’s true that Carrie was jealous when Alicia got the spot in the national orchestra. Carrie wanted it so badly. She was sure that Mr. Todd lobbied hard to get Alicia the position, and she didn’t think it was fair. But she’s not a mean person. She’s not vindictive. Not like Tina.”

  My heart revved up when she said that. I waited for her to continue.

  “Tina was the one who was always trashing Alicia, not Carrie. Every time Tina saw Alicia, she said something nasty about her. Tina was even more jealous of Alicia than Carrie was. I told you that Alicia and I tutored kids in reading at the library?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, Alicia tutored Brendan’s little brother. Tina used to come to the library to meet up with Alicia after Reading Buddies because Brendan always picks Zak up. Tina has a huge crush on him. And I mean huge. She’s done everything but throw herself in the path of his car. Seriously. But so far she hasn’t had any luck with him. You want to know why?”

  Of course I did.

  “Because he’s crazy—was crazy—about Alicia. You should see the way he looked at her. Tina went nuts the first time she saw them together. And I mean really together.”


  “When was that?”

  “Maybe a week or so before Alicia died. Then when Mr. Todd announced a few days later that Alicia had won the spot in the national youth orchestra, you should have heard Tina. She called Alicia teacher’s pet and said she only got the first violin position because of that and not because she was more talented than Carrie. She kept at it. It was like she was trying to get Carrie all worked up and angry just because she was angry. I guess misery really does love company.” She sighed. “Carrie’s a good musician. She does really well in all the competitions she enters. Second isn’t bad. Second is great. But Carrie always feels like it’s first place or nothing. I wish she wasn’t so insecure.” She gave me a wary look. “I’m not sure I should tell you.” She bit her lip. “It’s about her parents.”

  “Carrie told me her real parents died.”

  That seemed to take Desiree by surprise.

  “She never tells anyone that. I thought Tina and I were the only people who knew.” She looked me over as if reappraising me. “She must really trust you.”

  “She needs someone to believe in her.”

  “And you do?”

  “I don’t think she’d ask me to help her if she’d really done it.”

  Desiree thought this over and nodded.

  “Edward is okay, but Marion is horrible. Marion was always boasting about Carrie when she was little. To hear her talk, Carrie was the prettiest, sweetest, most talented little girl who ever lived. Any mom in town will tell you that. I heard my mom talking to one of her friends one time. She said the way Marion went on, you’d think she was the only person in the world with a daughter. But that was when Carrie was little. Marion hasn’t bragged about her in a long time. Kids grow up. Then they’re not so cute. When they have problems, they’re bigger problems. I don’t know what Marion said to Carrie, but it must have been something, because by the time we got to high school, Carrie was determined to be the best at everything she did. It was like she had to prove to Marion that she was worthy of being loved.”