Band Room Bash

by Candice Speare Prentice

“All right. If Dad’s okay with it, I will at least do a little bit,” I said. “Now, how was work at the pretzel stand?”

  “Cool. Brought you leftovers. I know how you like them.” She pointed at the bag on the table.

  “Thanks, honey.”

  “Well, I gotta finish my homework.” She trotted from the room.

  I slipped a cinnamon sugar pretzel from the bag, took a big bite, and chewed while I pondered Georgia’s death from all angles. Then I caught myself reaching into the bag for a second pretzel and stopped. Overeating was developing into a bad habit. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be the size of Texas by the time I had the baby. That wasn’t normally a problem for me. When I wasn’t pregnant, I had trouble remembering to eat. But when I was expecting, I could happily consume copious amounts of food all day. Eat and sleep. In fact, right now, the tiredness I’d fought all day was seeping into my bones, making me feel like jelly. I needed to get to bed even if Max wasn’t home. And I’d take my Bible study with me. I’d get some work done before I fell asleep.

  A while later, I woke to Max’s beautiful face hovering over mine.

  “Hi.” He brushed the hair from my eyes and kissed me. Then he picked up my Bible and the study book from where they’d fallen on the bed beside me and placed them on the nightstand. “Guess you fell asleep doing this?”

  “I fell asleep before I read the first word.” I tried to extricate my arms from the covers to pull him into a hug, but he stood up before I could.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Put out.” My whine can rival Sammie’s. “I had a special dinner planned for you tonight. I had steaks ready and arranged for the kids to be away.”

  He frowned and swiped his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, but you should have told me earlier. I could have rearranged my meetings.”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” I said.

  He leaned over and kissed me again. For a minute, I thought he was going to be romantic, but he straightened and stepped back. “How are you feeling now? Are you okay about Georgia?”

  “Abbie and I went out to dinner, so I talked with her about it. Right now I’m just achy and tired.”

  “Oh.” He walked over to his dresser and pulled off his tie. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I’m just sorry you had to be the one to find her.”

  “Well, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

  “Don’t remind me.” He dropped the tie on the dresser.

  I watched him with one eye because I was having trouble keeping both open. “What’s the big deal with all the meetings?”

  He met my gaze briefly in the dresser mirror then turned and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Dad and I have several projects going on.”

  “More self-storage centers?”

  “We’re looking into that,” he said.

  Max and his father were building a self-storage empire that had started with our facility in Four Oaks.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Max said. “Then we can finish talking.”

  Through almost closed eyelids, I watched him walk to the bathroom to take his shower. To say that Max is good-looking would be an understatement. Dark hair, green eyes, and chiseled cheeks and chin—he could be the cover model for a romance novel. And he looked good coming and going.

  I heard the water in the shower start and decided I would try to resurrect my romantic evening. I wanted to cuddle with my husband. I settled back under the covers. My eyelids drifted shut. The next thing I felt was Max leaning over me to turn off the light. I tried to force my eyes open.

  “Good night,” he whispered and rolled over with his back to me.

  He obviously wasn’t in the mood for cuddling, but I did need to tell him about my clue notebook. “Max?”

  “Mmm?” He settled deeper under the blankets.

  “You’re not worried that I found Georgia Winters?”

  He inhaled. I’d caught him off guard. He rolled over to face me. “Is there a reason I should be?”

  “I’m collecting clues in a notebook.” I held my breath.

  He flopped onto his back. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Detective Scott threatened me. He said he would tell you.”

  “If he thinks threats will work, he doesn’t know you as well as I do.” Max sounded resigned.

  “Well, he was in a horrible mood. Did you know that he asked Abbie out?”

  Max sighed. “What does him asking Abbie out have to do with you collecting clues?”

  “Well, she turned him down.”

  “Okay. . .and?”

  Max wasn’t putting it all together. “Because of that, he was in a really bad mood.”

  Max grunted.

  “And tonight Karen told me that Marvin Slade is a suspect. She asked me to solve the mystery.”

  “The band teacher?”

  “Yes, but how could he do it? As murderers go, he doesn’t fit. He’s just a skinny musician. Well, skinny or not, I guess he could have murdered someone, but if I had to pick someone right now, I’d be more inclined to think it was Carla. I’m sure she could take a grown man if she wanted to. Connie is more iffy, but a possibility.” I paused and remembered something I’d need to add to my notebook. “You know what? Carla said that Connie and Georgia were fighting. And the football coach was around. He could have done it easily, but why would he kill her? Maybe he and Georgia were dating.” I bit my lip and thought.

  “There’s a good chance it was a random crime, too,” Max said. “Maybe drug related.”

  “Drugs?” The thought horrified me.

  I heard the smile in his voice. “Honey, Four Oaks isn’t Utopia. There’s always a good possibility that someone was looking for something.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t having any trouble keeping my eyes open now. “My mother said it was a mob hit because a new housing development will eventually bring in gambling and all manner of crime. She actually used the word avarice.”

  Max coughed then laughed. “Only your mother could come up with something like that.” “Yeah, I suppose.”

  We lay silently for a minute, then Max yawned and apologized. “Just promise me that you won’t put yourself in danger. Last time was plenty for me.”

  “I never do that on purpose.” I felt put out that he would think I was that stupid. “And I didn’t find Georgia on purpose, either. I was just there for a play committee meeting. It’s not like I go out looking for trouble.”

  He stroked my hair. “You don’t need to. It always finds you.”

  “Well, this time I don’t think I have anything to worry about. I’m not a suspect. I hardly knew Georgia.” I briefly thought about Tommy. “It’s not like she was my teacher or anything.”

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of you collecting clues, but I’m not going to try to stop you. I don’t think I could.” He leaned over to kiss me again then rolled over on his side.

  I was almost disappointed that he’d given in so quickly. I didn’t want him to rampage like he had during the other murder investigation, but I wished he had tried a little harder to talk me out of it. I could have had fun with that. However, when he began snoring less than two minutes later, I realized he was exhausted.

  So was I, but, perversely, now I was having trouble quieting my mind, which wandered from Georgia to Detective Scott and Abbie and finally to the housing development. My last thought was how so many times we think we know someone, or we understand a situation and have everything figured out, but we really don’t. And that was exactly why it was going to be hard to figure out who murdered Georgia. No one is ever totally what he or she appears to be on the outside.

  Chapter Six

  On Tuesday morning, Max got the little kids ready for school, and I fed them. While I ate breakfast, I pulled out my clue notebook and added, Carla said Connie and Georgia were fighting. Were the coach and Georgia dating? Was it a random crime? Something to do with drugs?

  I half
listened to the television, waiting for the local news, hoping to hear more about Georgia’s death. A cheerful morning show host was running down national news, although what was considered important amazed me. She rambled on about the latest cell phone issues, including batteries that blow up. Then she mentioned the newest diet rage and a drug that helped erase bad memories and made coping with pressure easier, often used by musicians to enhance their concert performances.

  “Now to the local news,” she said. “The body of Four Oaks English teacher Georgia Winters was discovered yesterday in the band room of Four Oaks High School. Local law enforcement will only say that the death is being treated as suspicious.”

  The picture on the screen cut to Carla in front of the school. She looked surprisingly good on television, but she said nothing I didn’t already know, just that she and the authorities were doing everything in their power to keep the children safe.

  I was relieved no one mentioned that I had found the body. I didn’t want that kind of attention. If Carla’s unwillingness to share had a positive side, it was that she wouldn’t share the limelight with me.

  I turned off the television. On Tuesday mornings, Max carpooled the little kids to school. I kissed everyone as he herded them out to his car. After they left, I went through five changes of clothes before I decided I didn’t look good in anything. I gave up trying, yanked on a boring, tight pair of maternity jeans and an equally boring sweater, tucked my steno pad and some play advertising forms into my purse, and drove to Four Oaks Self-Storage. I was happy to run the accounting end of the business from my office at the Four Oaks facility, although I planned to take a leave of absence when I had the baby.

  When I walked into the front office, Shirl, the office manager, was talking on the phone. She waved at me to wait until she was done. I plunked my purse on the counter.

  After she’d slapped the receiver down, she turned to face me. “I heard about that Winters woman.”

  I was sure everyone within a hundred-mile radius had heard about the Winters woman.

  “So, are you going to solve this mystery?” Shirl asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, even as I removed the notebook from my bag.

  She opened a drawer in her desk, pulled out a tube of Avon extra-moisturizing hand lotion, and squirted some into her palm.

  “Do you know anything?” I lifted a pen from the desktop and held it poised over the pad.

  She shrugged, rubbing her hands together. “Well, Sue, my neighbor’s daughter’s sister-in-law, works at the school.” Shirl’s eyes glittered, and I could tell she was just winding up.

  “I’ll tell you what.” Shirl put the lotion away, pulled an emery board from the pencil holder, and began sawing at her nails. “No one is surprised someone bopped that woman. She’s got mean as a snake lately. I figure it’s probably early menopause. She should have gotten some help. Got some herbs. You know, like black cobash?”

  “I think that’s black cohash.”

  Shirl waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. You do realize that if more people used herbs, the drug companies would have to start charging less for their pills.”

  “Uh-huh.” I wondered what she’d been reading.

  “It’s true,” Shirl said. “That new pharmacist in town sells all sorts of natural stuff. You’d think he’d be afraid of losing money, but he’s always giving out advice. And that Georgia needed some kind of help. You do know she threatened to fail Jason.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t—”

  “Jason is the star quarterback on the Four Oaks High School football team. He fails? He’s off the team. He goes? The season goes. That happens? Coach Smith probably loses his position.”

  I snorted. “Well, how stupid is that? Firing a coach because a kid fails. After all, it’s just a game—”

  Oops. Shirl tapped the nail file against her palm and stared at me as if I’d just uttered blasphemy. “Our team hasn’t had a losing season in five years,” she said icily.

  Our team. Like high school football was the be-all, end-all of life. I hadn’t understood that level of enthusiasm when I was in high school. Now that I’m an adult, I understand it even less. But this did give the coach a good reason to be a suspect.

  A car pulled up in the parking lot. Shirl stared over the counter and through the window. My gaze followed hers.

  “That’s Connie, the costume lady,” she told me.

  I didn’t bother to remind her that I knew Connie, too, and could easily recognize her from fifteen feet away.

  Shirl plunked the nail file back into the pencil holder and thumbed through some paperwork on her desk. “She called me yesterday and said you said I should hold a unit for her. She just bought a whole slew of new costumes.” She picked up the lease she’d already printed out and put it and a pen on the counter. “You know she’s related to Georgia, don’t you? Cousin. She left town right after high school. I don’t know what happened, but she moved back here not so long ago.”

  Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I realized I did know that. That made me even more curious to know why she and Georgia had been fighting.

  The bell over the door rang when Connie walked in. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

  “I was surprised you came out today,” Shirl said. “I wouldn’t set foot out my front door for days if one of my relatives was murdered.”

  Connie’s face blanched.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said with double meaning. Even though Connie’s name was on my suspect list, I was sorry for her loss. And for Shirl’s lack of tact.

  “Thank you.” Connie sniffled. “I’m sure it was difficult for you. . .finding her.”

  “Yes, very.” I drew in a breath, trying not to remember Georgia on the floor. “Were you at the school when the police arrived?”

  “No.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I left right after I talked with you.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t walk down to the band room with Trish,” Shirl said. “I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to find a relative bludgeoned to death.”

  If it were possible, Connie’s face became whiter.

  “Did the police bang on your door and tell you she died?” As usual, Shirl was a bull in a china shop.

  Connie sniffled again. “Yes. They went out to the farm. It was horrible. Granny Nettie was there. It was the worst way she could have heard about it, although I’m not sure how much she really understood.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Thank you.” She pulled her checkbook from her purse. “Well, work helps me cope. Besides, I have to get all this stuff into storage. I’m going to be really busy now.”

  “Oh?” Shirl shoved the lease toward Connie.

  “Someone has to care for Granny Nettie.” She swiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “You know she hasn’t been doing so well in the last year. Georgia was caring for her. I helped during the day while Georgia was at work.”

  “I heard Nettie wasn’t well,” Shirl said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Mostly old age.” Connie signed the lease, wrote a check, and handed both to Shirl. “Georgia was cracking under the pressure, but now she. . .” More tears. “She was having a rough time of it all.”

  “I can understand,” I said.

  “That’s probably why she was acting the way she was,” Shirl said. “A shrew.”

  “Shirl!” Sometimes I want to stuff a sock in her mouth.

  She waved a pen in the air. “Well, people talk.” She looked at Connie. “I know you heard what they were saying.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Georgia was ornery lately. It was because of all the pressure.” She stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. “I haven’t been feeling that well. My heart keeps pounding. I think it’s stress.”

  I felt guilty for having Connie on my list of suspects. She was obviously miserable. Still, that meant nothing. I was pretty sure that some murderers felt remorse.

  “You know, th
ere’s things to help that,” Shirl said authoritatively. “Herbal remedies. I can get you some.” She eyed Connie. “But Nettie used to make all that sort of stuff. She’d know what to do. She used to grow her own herbs.”

  Connie picked up her purse. “We all drink her herbal tea. It’s got ginseng in it.”

  “Gotta be careful with herbs, though,” Shirl said. “Pick the wrong ones and. . .” She ran her finger across her neck.

  Once again, I wondered what Shirl had been reading—or drinking. This herbal thing was a brand-new topic for her, and I had a feeling I’d be hearing more about it before she got it out of her system.

  Connie backed toward the door. “Well, I should get this stuff unloaded. I’ve got so much to do.”

  Shirl clucked sympathetically as Connie left the office. We watched her car drive up the parking lot to her new unit.

  “Lover’s quarrel,” Shirl said.

  “What?” Sometimes talking to Shirl made my brain feel like it was in a wringer washer.

  “A crime of passion. Maybe Marvin or Coach Smith was dating Georgia. And then she broke up with him.”

  “Seems sort of obvious,” I said.

  “Isn’t it always when it involves love gone bad? People just lose control. Then they murder in cold blood.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. But we don’t even know for sure if she was murdered.”

  Shirl snorted. I had to agree.

  Another customer came in, so I went to my office. There, I pulled out my steno pad to make notes.

  Were Georgia and the coach dating? Did he clobber her? I chewed my pen. Another important part of solving a crime is looking into the victim’s past. Connie had said some interesting things about Georgia.

  Georgia lived with Nettie. Was she overwhelmed taking care of her?

  At the familiar sound of a purring engine, I looked out the window. Max pulled into the parking lot. I was surprised to see him. He hadn’t said anything about coming into the office today. The bell over the door rang as he came inside.

  “Hi, Mr. C.,” Shirl said. “I didn’t expect you today.”

  “Good morning. Just need to pick up something I forgot. Any messages?”