band to be seen by the audience. Sometimes a person has to resort to a little eye-batting to get things done.
Walking away from Jim, I had to wonder if Vanessa had flirted with David when they ran into each other all those years ago. Maybe things went further than flirting? Not an unusual thing to happen among performers—especially ones who were looking to make a name for themselves. Hooking up with a rising star to bolster a career wasn’t my style, but it might have appealed to someone as ambitious as Vanessa. And his lack of memory of that relationship years later would certainly be a slap to her ego.
Of course, even if my speculation was close to the truth, it was a pretty far jump from a woman scorned to murderess. Still, it might be worth asking a few questions. Just in case.
“Ms. Marshall.”
Oy. I plastered a smile on my face and turned. “Yes, Chessie?”
The teen looked stunning in the red satin dress trimmed with faux white fur. “My throat feels scratchy. Would it be okay if I didn’t sing today? I’d hate to lose my voice before tomorrow night’s performance, especially after you said how much you depend on me.”
Yeah, right. The girl’s eyes flashed with malicious mischief. The energy rolling off her was of pure glee. One thing was certain, if Chessie wanted Broadway in her future, she’d have to invest in acting classes. Lots of them.
Chessie was waiting for me to question whether she was really sick or push her to sing through the phantom illness. If I questioned her vocal distress, she’d run to her parents and report my lack of sensitivity. Since I wasn’t about to give her more ammunition to use against me, I said, “If you don’t want to sing today, you don’t have to. I’m sure Megan will be more than willing to step in and sing your solo.”
Ha! Chessie didn’t see that one coming. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the implications of Megan singing not one, but two features. After a moment, she smiled. “Maybe I could try to sing the first number and see how I feel. I’d hate to put Megan on the spot. She’s already nervous enough about the solo you just assigned to her.”
Right, and hell was paved with ice-cream sandwiches.
“Let’s see how you feel.” My voice oozed sympathy. “I’ll tell Megan to be prepared just in case.” Before Chessie retreated, I decided to put one other issue to rest. “Hey, Chessie, how is the Secret Santa thing going? Have you figured out who your Santa is?”
I looked for glimmers of guilt or excitement in the kid’s expression. Coincidence was hard to swallow, but I’d rather believe the hanging Santa was an evil prank pulled by a willful teen as opposed to a warning from a cold-blooded killer.
Instead of guilt, annoyance flickered across Chessie’s face. “The whole Secret Santa thing is lame. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
With a toss of her hair, she tromped off, not knowing her parting words caused more damage than anything else she’d said or done. Chessie’s lack of acting skills made one thing certain—she wasn’t behind Suicide Santa. The killer was.
My stomach dropped. The killer knew where I worked. If the killer came after me here, I wouldn’t be the only one in danger. My students would end up in the line of fire, too.
Chapter 8
Chessie’s singing voice was strong and clear throughout rehearsal. Not a surprise. The rest of the choir looked and sounded fabulous as they finished the seasonal portion of their repertoire. Then they darted off to change costumes for their competition set.
Ignoring the knot lodged in my chest, I asked Jim to have the band lower the volume in a few specific spots. I then settled back in my seat in the center of the theater to watch the next part of the show. Devlyn joined me as the choir members took their places for the second half of the program.
“Relax,” he whispered. His hand closed over mine and gave it a quick squeeze. “I saw the first set from the light
Walking away from Jim, I had to wonder if Vanessa had flirted with David when they ran into each other all those years ago. Maybe things went further than flirting? Not an unusual thing to happen among performers—especially ones who were looking to make a name for themselves. Hooking up with a rising star to bolster a career wasn’t my style, but it might have appealed to someone as ambitious as Vanessa. And his lack of memory of that relationship years later would certainly be a slap to her ego.
Of course, even if my speculation was close to the truth, it was a pretty far jump from a woman scorned to murderess. Still, it might be worth asking a few questions. Just in case.
“Ms. Marshall.”
Oy. I plastered a smile on my face and turned. “Yes, Chessie?”
The teen looked stunning in the red satin dress trimmed with faux white fur. “My throat feels scratchy. Would it be okay if I didn’t sing today? I’d hate to lose my voice before tomorrow night’s performance, especially after you said how much you depend on me.”
Yeah, right. The girl’s eyes flashed with malicious mischief. The energy rolling off her was of pure glee. One thing was certain, if Chessie wanted Broadway in her future, she’d have to invest in acting classes. Lots of them.
Chessie was waiting for me to question whether she was really sick or push her to sing through the phantom illness. If I questioned her vocal distress, she’d run to her parents and report my lack of sensitivity. Since I wasn’t about to give her more ammunition to use against me, I said, “If you don’t want to sing today, you don’t have to. I’m sure Megan will be more than willing to step in and sing your solo.”
Ha! Chessie didn’t see that one coming. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the implications of Megan singing not one, but two features. After a moment, she smiled. “Maybe I could try to sing the first number and see how I feel. I’d hate to put Megan on the spot. She’s already nervous enough about the solo you just assigned to her.”
Right, and hell was paved with ice-cream sandwiches.
“Let’s see how you feel.” My voice oozed sympathy. “I’ll tell Megan to be prepared just in case.” Before Chessie retreated, I decided to put one other issue to rest. “Hey, Chessie, how is the Secret Santa thing going? Have you figured out who your Santa is?”
I looked for glimmers of guilt or excitement in the kid’s expression. Coincidence was hard to swallow, but I’d rather believe the hanging Santa was an evil prank pulled by a willful teen as opposed to a warning from a cold-blooded killer.
Instead of guilt, annoyance flickered across Chessie’s face. “The whole Secret Santa thing is lame. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
With a toss of her hair, she tromped off, not knowing her parting words caused more damage than anything else she’d said or done. Chessie’s lack of acting skills made one thing certain—she wasn’t behind Suicide Santa. The killer was.
My stomach dropped. The killer knew where I worked. If the killer came after me here, I wouldn’t be the only one in danger. My students would end up in the line of fire, too.
Chapter 8
Chessie’s singing voice was strong and clear throughout rehearsal. Not a surprise. The rest of the choir looked and sounded fabulous as they finished the seasonal portion of their repertoire. Then they darted off to change costumes for their competition set.
Ignoring the knot lodged in my chest, I asked Jim to have the band lower the volume in a few specific spots. I then settled back in my seat in the center of the theater to watch the next part of the show. Devlyn joined me as the choir members took their places for the second half of the program.
“Relax,” he whispered. His hand closed over mine and gave it a quick squeeze. “I saw the first set from the light
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