Dead Ringer by Sarah Fox

set the paper bag on a table out of Finnegan’s reach and picked up his guitar again. Instead of playing the instrument, he held it in his lap, listening carefully to everything I said.
    I stroked Finnegan’s silky head as I related my story, finishing up by saying, “It’s all so muddled in my head. I can’t figure out how it’s all connected to Jeremy’s death.”
    â€œMaybe it’s not.” JT played a ­couple of random chords. “Maybe his death had nothing to do with any of it.”
    â€œBut there was so much going on beneath the surface!” I didn’t want to think that all of my investigating had been for naught.
    JT shrugged. “That’s the way it is with a lot of ­people.”
    I slumped back into the beanbag chair, dejected.
    â€œI’m not saying everything you found out means nothing, just that it isn’t necessarily the reason for his murder.”
    â€œThat only makes things even more confusing,” I said. “How am I supposed to know what’s significant and what isn’t?”
    â€œYou’re not. That’s for the police to figure out.”
    â€œBut it could take them forever.” I slumped even deeper into the beanbag chair. “And in the meantime, I have to keep looking at the faces of ­people I know and wondering if they killed Jeremy. Not to mention, I have to keep things on hold with Hans.”
    Although JT had started strumming the opening to one of his compositions, he stopped mid-­phrase. “Does he really mean so much to you?”
    I tugged on my left ear. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know him that well yet, but . . . I really liked where things were going.”
    JT let out a breath. He didn’t look happy.
    â€œI know you don’t approve,” I said.
    He shook his head before I could say more. “It’s not that. I just wish you’d leave the investigating to the police. I don’t want you getting yourself into trouble.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    There was doubt in his eyes, but also concern.
    I pushed myself up from the beanbag chair and stood behind JT, putting my arms around his neck and giving him an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t worry.”
    I felt him relax and one corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Kind of hard not to when you’re determined to play Nancy Drew.”
    I pressed my cheek against his and gave him another squeeze before letting go. “I could always use a sidekick, you know.”
    Finnegan sat in front of me and let out an enthusiastic bark.
    â€œLooks like I’ve got competition for that position,” JT said, ruffling the fur on Finn’s head.
    â€œYou can both be sidekicks.” I knelt down to give Finnegan a hug.
    â€œAnd what does that entail?”
    â€œFor starters, going with me to talk to Jeremy’s landlady.” The thought had only just occurred to me, but I figured it was a good idea.
    â€œHis landlady?”
    â€œShe might know something.”
    â€œWhen are you going?”
    â€œAs soon as I’m done teaching today.”
    â€œThen you’re on your own.” JT stood up and hung his guitar on a hook on the wall. “My studio’s booked all evening.”
    â€œSo much for my sidekicks.”
    â€œMaybe another time.” The smile on JT’s face faded and he regarded me with a serious expression. “Be careful, Dori, okay? Don’t go stirring up a hornets’ nest.”
    â€œI’m not planning on it,” I said. “All I’m going to do is ask a few questions.”
    â€œQuestions can be dangerous when asked of the wrong person,” he warned.
    I waved off his concerns as I headed for the stairs. “I’ll be fine, JT. I promise.”
    As I jogged up to the main floor, JT said from below, “Make sure that’s a promise you keep.”

 
    Chapter 9
    T EACHING MY STUDENTS that afternoon