Murder for Choir (35 page)

Whoever said art mimicked life was lying—big time.

Felicia was waking up when Detective Kaiser, Devlyn, and what looked to be the entire Prospect Glen Police Department tromped down the stairs. Devlyn took one look at me and turned white. Guess I looked even worse than I felt, which was pretty bad.

Detective Mike looked around at the dazed Felicia, the disheveled Larry, and bloody me, and yelled, “What the hell is going on here?”

“Fe-fe-fe-li-ci-a ki—”

“Felicia killed Greg Lucas.” I cut Larry off before he spit on himself. I’d freed him from his bindings while waiting for the cavalry to arrive. The man was happy, freaked, and angry all at the same time. The combination meant it was almost impossible for him to get a word out without stuttering a half dozen times. “She also tried to kill me and was going to frame Larry for it.” I’d already told Mike this once on the phone, but it bore repeating.

Detective Mike put Felicia under arrest and told her she
had the right to remain silent. Given the way she started shrieking about Greg deserving everything he got, I doubted she was going to take advantage of that right. I was just bummed I couldn’t really enjoy watching Felicia being carted away in cuffs. The searing pain in my arm combined with the blood loss had made me nauseous and shivery.

Thank God the paramedics showed up, took one look at the gunshot wound, and gave me a shot of something that took the edge off everything.

They also decided I needed a trip to the hospital. As far as they could tell, the bullet had passed clean through the fatty part of my upper arm. Most likely there was no permanent damage done except to my pride. Hello?
Fatty part?

Mike had questions he needed answered, but he decided my need for medical attention was more pressing. He promised to drop by Millie’s place later to do the cop thing. Then he turned his attention to Larry. As the paramedics helped me up the stairs, Detective Mike fired off questions. Hearing Mike try to keep his cool while Larry tripped over his answers was kind of amusing. Or maybe that was just the drugs talking. Hard to tell.

The doctors at the hospital confirmed my fatty arm problem. I also got stitches, pain meds, and an antibiotic. Yippee. Aunt Millie arrived just as I was begging to go home. Her face was white. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. The minute she spotted me sitting in my emergency room cubical, her whole body trembled.

Then the moment was gone. She straightened her shoulders and marched over to give me a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. Your parents would never have let me hear the end of it if anything happened to you while living under my roof.”

Tearing up, I hugged her back and asked, “Can we get
out of here? I’m starving.” Who knows—maybe if I played the victim card just right, she’d drive through McDonald’s.

Sadly, there was no French fry therapy for me. Instead, Millie had dinner waiting at home. My intestines clenched in anticipation. There was no way my aunt could make edible meals two days in a row.

Turns out I was right and wrong. A quick taste told me the pork roast was not only edible, it was delicious. So were the apple and onion stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green beans almondine. And they were all made by Aldo. Maybe I could convince him to marry Aunt Millie and cook for me all the time. His taste in clothing was a touch eccentric—today he was sporting a lime green smoking jacket and purple velvet pants—but I could learn to love his style. Especially since it came with a homemade apple tart for dessert.

The doorbell rang halfway through dinner. Detective Mike had arrived to take my statement. Aldo put another place setting at the table and insisted Mike join us. Being reminded that I had almost died killed my appetite. Oh well—not eating was a good way to work on my fatty arm problem.

Once Mike had shoveled down half his dinner, he got out his cop book and asked me for a rundown of today’s events. I gave him the highlights. When I was done, he gave me a funny look and asked, “How did you know the e-mail wasn’t from Larry? I looked up the account. It was registered under his name.”

I wasn’t surprised. Felicia had covered herself pretty well. Thank goodness she’d missed a few details. “Dana and Larry were meeting with an attorney on Wednesday night. The attorney thought Larry had a good case, which meant Larry didn’t have a reason to blackmail Greg later that night. Not when he could humiliate him in court.”

“Dana told me she was with two of her yoga students on Wednesday night.”

I smiled. “Dana probably got the dates wrong.” AKA—she lied. Dana must have thought her relationship with Larry would look like an additional motive for murder. Mike’s expression told me he and Dana were going to have a heart-to-heart. “Is Larry okay? How did he end up in the costume shop?” I asked.

Mike nodded while sucking down more pot roast. When he swallowed, he said, “Felicia showed up in the middle of the night on Saturday and begged Larry to go with her to the police station. When he went to get dressed, she hit him over the head and knocked him out. He was still pretty hung over, so it wasn’t hard to do. She stashed him at her place for the day and moved him to the school late Saturday night using one of the dollies from the scene shop. Then she ransacked the place looking for Greg’s pitch pipe. You were right about that.”

Score one for me.

Mike added, “Felicia said she never really wanted to kill you, but after Larry sobered up and started to talk, she realized she didn’t have much of a choice. She planned on putting your dead body on the stage to mimic Greg’s along with a note from Larry confessing to the crimes.”

“So Felicia officially confessed?”

“Her lawyer isn’t too happy, but her confession was totally by the book. She even confessed to planting Eric Metz’s phone on Wednesday morning, the shooting on Saturday, and rigging your car to explode. Turns out, she’d bought that device off the Internet back in the spring and planned on using it on Greg Lucas’s car. But she changed her mind. She thought it would scare you off.” He laughed. “Guess she doesn’t know you all that well.”

Neither did Mike. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed and ditched me twice. The way he was looking at me now made me almost think about forgiving him.

We were clearing away dishes and setting out dessert when the doorbell rang again. Killer barked himself silly as Millie hustled to the front door. I knew who it was the minute Killer gave a happy yip. Devlyn had arrived with Larry in tow.

Devlyn and Larry followed Millie and Killer into the kitchen. The minute Devlyn saw me, he pulled me into his arms and planted a kiss on top of my head. “Don’t ever disappear like that again. I came back to the choir room, and your stuff was still there, but you were gone. After ten minutes I knew something was wrong, but Captain America over here wouldn’t do anything about it. He said you probably went out to lunch and forgot your dance bag.”

Mike glared at Devlyn and puffed out his chest. “Some of us operate in the real world, where facts matter.”

“The fact is you should be thanking Paige. She solved Greg’s murder for you.”

That went over well. “Thanking her? She’s lucky I didn’t arrest her for the stunts she pulled.”

I really didn’t want to be in a cell next to Felicia. One sleepover with a deranged killer was enough.

Thank goodness Devlyn realized he’d pushed too far and apologized. Mike asked if I could come down to the station tomorrow for a formal statement. No cell-block bunking for me. Hurray!

After we set a time for my police-department visit, Mike headed out, and the rest of us settled down to enjoy dessert. We all looked at one another. Now that Mike was gone we could talk freely, but no one seemed to know where to begin. The silence was making me jumpy so I turned to Larry and
said, “I thought you would have been with Dana tonight. She was really worried about you.”

Larry blushed. “I was with D-d-dana earlier, but we both thought she should talk to her son tonight. Now that Fe-fe-licia is behind bars and talking to the police, everyone is going to know about the song Greg stole from me. We don’t want Jacob to learn about his dad’s past from the newspapers or the kids at school. Jacob has had it hard enough.”

“He’s lucky to have you and Dana on his side,” I said. “And it’s nice to hear you’ll get the acknowledgment for your music that you deserve.”

Millie and Aldo were confused so Devlyn and Larry filled them in on the college music theft. While they talked, a large knot of guilt settled into my stomach. The kitchen lights were bright, allowing me to see every bump and bruise Larry had suffered at Felicia’s hands. He was a nice guy, and I’d suspected him of murder. I was a schmuck.

When Millie and Aldo were up to speed, I said, “I’m sorry I thought you might have killed Greg Lucas.”

Larry waved off my apology with his fork-holding hand, sending a piece of cinnamon apple flying. His ears turned pink as Killer raced across the floor and gobbled it up. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I was so worried about the police suspecting Dana that I let them think you could be a suspect. I should have realized it was Felicia right away. You’re not to blame for anything.”

“That’s not exactly true.” My conscious begged I come clean about everything even though it would most likely get me fired. Or maybe it was my burning curiosity over Larry’s payment to a hit man that had me admitting, “I figured out the password to your e-mail. One of the messages made me think you hired someone to kill Greg Lucas.”

Larry looked confused, which was way better than angry. “What e-mail made you think that?”

“A guy named Kris said he would kill for fifteen hundred dollars.”

Larry blinked. Then he started to laugh. “Kris is a professional Broadway choreographer. I really wanted to take Greg down this year, and my choreography sucked. Only, I didn’t have the cash to pay her.” His face colored at the admission of his monetary problems, and I held my breath, waiting for Larry to sack me.

Devlyn smiled. “Well, you’re lucky you don’t need her. Wait until you see what Paige and I have come up with. The kids were blown away.”

“Even Chessie Bock?” Larry said, sounding surprised.

“Especially Chessie Bock.”

Larry grinned. “I can’t wait to see it. Although I don’t think Paige should dance until her shoulder is feeling better.”

I was stunned. “You mean you’re not going to fire me for breaking into your e-mail?” Or his car—although he didn’t technically know about that one.

“You have to work with Chessie.” Larry laughed. “Trust me—that is more than punishment enough.”

Devlyn drove Larry home, and Millie and Aldo headed upstairs to watch television before going to bed. My arm was throbbing, so I popped another pain pill and took a shower. I then camped out on the living room floor with the pugs and a book while waiting for the pill to kick in.

The pain in my arm was starting to ebb as the doorbell rang again. I opened the door and was surprise to see Devlyn standing on the stoop.

“Did you forget something?” I asked as he stepped inside.

He looked different. No smile. No twinkle in his eyes. His expression was unreadable. “You’ve heard everyone else’s secrets today, but I never got a chance to tell you mine.”

“You don’t have to,” I insisted.

“But—”

“You’re my friend, but that doesn’t give me the right to know everything about your life. You don’t owe me any explanations, but I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have—”

One minute I was apologizing, the next I was being kissed senseless. Devlyn’s arm snaked around my waist and drew me close as his mouth insisted I respond. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t. I was confused. Again.

Taking several steps back, I blinked up at him. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re gay.”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said teenage girls pursue teachers. My first two years of teaching, I had more than one student make passes at me. Some wanted roles in the shows or passing grades. A few liked the danger of pursuing a teacher. The choir teacher walked in on one girl taking off her top as a demonstration of how far she’d go to get the lead in the musical.”