Tali, not for public consumption. Don’t you love the cuddly flop-eared rabbits?”
“No. I like information that might keep the rest of the moms and kids safe. What do you think is going on? Have you ever seen a body like that one? Don’t you think something strange is going on, and do you really believe Marcia’s husband had anything to do with it? How could he have done it? How could anyone drain a body that quickly, or drain a body, period? Also, what about Karin? She and Marcia certainly weren’t friends.”
“Tali, don’t you have to get back to the contest before it’s over? After all, you are the emcee. I couldn’t answer all those questions in under an hour anyway and I wouldn’t have made an arrest if I didn’t believe I had a suspect. You’d better go before Laurel comes looking for you.”
“But, JT, I need to know what’s going on if we’re to get on with the contest and not have any more incidents. I don’t know what to look for, to be on guard for to protect the kids.”
“The volunteer officers are there to do that very thing. You just concentrate on your job. I’ll take care of mine.”
I moved back toward the stage but looked over my shoulder. JT still watched me, a frown on his face. What stick was up his butt? Talk about a brush-off. I looked down to watch where I was going and then up toward the stage.
JT used to trust me a little, and the trust was coming back. But ever since this murder, he’d been different. Was it the murder and the fact I’d been there? Was it Aiden? Could he be jealous? Now I couldn’t answer all my own questions.
The last entertainer finished and Lyn was motioning to me, frantic that I might not make it back in time. I took another swig from the water bottle, set it down behind the hay bales, and went back up to face the music.
The first three girls had chosen the exact same song to sing or lip synch, each one convinced they could do outperform the rest. Or maybe it was their mothers who were positive their child could pulverize the competition. I wasn’t certain how often the audience was willing to hear a song repeated, but we’d see.
During the third rendition of “Any Man of Mine,” my attention wandered to the dressing rooms. Karin Hataway lounged against the wall talking to some of the kids, laughing. I wondered if it bothered her at all that she’d argued with and threatened Marcia just before she died. She’d be a good suspect too, but if she was, JT wasn’t talking.
I turned to introduce the next girl, a jazz dancer (read cheerleader wannabe). I turned back to the dressing rooms when I heard loud voices.
“You should be hung,” shouted Marcia’s daughter, Kimmie Baker. “My dad’s in jail for something he didn’t do when you were the one who threatened my mom. I won’t let you get away with it.”
Karin yelled right back. “Just because your mother’s dead, you can’t blame it on me. You should be at the funeral home anyway, not hanging around here bothering innocent people. At least you won’t be in the contest, screwing up the chances for the rest of us. I’m a senior this year and it’s my last chance to compete. You have next year.”
“Mom wanted me to be in that contest and I will be. She worked overtime to help me get a dress.”
Karin laughed. “You couldn’t afford a dress that would hold a candle to the one I brought back from New York.”
Kimmie drew back her arm and threw one of the best right crosses I’d ever seen. Karin went down like a felled tree. “You have no idea what my dress is like or what I need to be doing. You need to be locked up before you hurt anyone else.” She turned on her heel and walked off, leaving Karin struggling to get up. The younger girls all moved away, distancing themselves from everything.
The music had covered most of the yelling, and the audience ignored everything but the kids on stage. You couldn’t blame them. Midway noise, people talking and milling about threw
“No. I like information that might keep the rest of the moms and kids safe. What do you think is going on? Have you ever seen a body like that one? Don’t you think something strange is going on, and do you really believe Marcia’s husband had anything to do with it? How could he have done it? How could anyone drain a body that quickly, or drain a body, period? Also, what about Karin? She and Marcia certainly weren’t friends.”
“Tali, don’t you have to get back to the contest before it’s over? After all, you are the emcee. I couldn’t answer all those questions in under an hour anyway and I wouldn’t have made an arrest if I didn’t believe I had a suspect. You’d better go before Laurel comes looking for you.”
“But, JT, I need to know what’s going on if we’re to get on with the contest and not have any more incidents. I don’t know what to look for, to be on guard for to protect the kids.”
“The volunteer officers are there to do that very thing. You just concentrate on your job. I’ll take care of mine.”
I moved back toward the stage but looked over my shoulder. JT still watched me, a frown on his face. What stick was up his butt? Talk about a brush-off. I looked down to watch where I was going and then up toward the stage.
JT used to trust me a little, and the trust was coming back. But ever since this murder, he’d been different. Was it the murder and the fact I’d been there? Was it Aiden? Could he be jealous? Now I couldn’t answer all my own questions.
The last entertainer finished and Lyn was motioning to me, frantic that I might not make it back in time. I took another swig from the water bottle, set it down behind the hay bales, and went back up to face the music.
The first three girls had chosen the exact same song to sing or lip synch, each one convinced they could do outperform the rest. Or maybe it was their mothers who were positive their child could pulverize the competition. I wasn’t certain how often the audience was willing to hear a song repeated, but we’d see.
During the third rendition of “Any Man of Mine,” my attention wandered to the dressing rooms. Karin Hataway lounged against the wall talking to some of the kids, laughing. I wondered if it bothered her at all that she’d argued with and threatened Marcia just before she died. She’d be a good suspect too, but if she was, JT wasn’t talking.
I turned to introduce the next girl, a jazz dancer (read cheerleader wannabe). I turned back to the dressing rooms when I heard loud voices.
“You should be hung,” shouted Marcia’s daughter, Kimmie Baker. “My dad’s in jail for something he didn’t do when you were the one who threatened my mom. I won’t let you get away with it.”
Karin yelled right back. “Just because your mother’s dead, you can’t blame it on me. You should be at the funeral home anyway, not hanging around here bothering innocent people. At least you won’t be in the contest, screwing up the chances for the rest of us. I’m a senior this year and it’s my last chance to compete. You have next year.”
“Mom wanted me to be in that contest and I will be. She worked overtime to help me get a dress.”
Karin laughed. “You couldn’t afford a dress that would hold a candle to the one I brought back from New York.”
Kimmie drew back her arm and threw one of the best right crosses I’d ever seen. Karin went down like a felled tree. “You have no idea what my dress is like or what I need to be doing. You need to be locked up before you hurt anyone else.” She turned on her heel and walked off, leaving Karin struggling to get up. The younger girls all moved away, distancing themselves from everything.
The music had covered most of the yelling, and the audience ignored everything but the kids on stage. You couldn’t blame them. Midway noise, people talking and milling about threw
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