threatening my life and you’re asking what I did?” Call me crazy, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t to blame for someone else’s homicidal tendencies. If Mike was going to say I was, he was going to get a French fry upside the head.
His expression didn’t change. “The killer wouldn’t come after you without a reason. Now, what did you do?”
I put down the French fry. The man had a valid point. Taking a sip of my soda, I gave him the rundown on my meeting with Bill and the hints he’d dropped about Magdalena’s mysterious allergy. As I talked, a sick, oily sensation spread through my gut. “You don’t think Bill died because I asked him to meet with me last night?”
I waited for Mike to offer immediate reassurance. When he didn’t, the salad I’d eaten threatened to reappear. “I’m the reason Bill died?”
“No.” Mike leaned forward, looking me square in the eyes. “The killer is the reason Bill’s dead. Bill either knew something the killer didn’t want getting out or the killer thought the cops would buy the suicide/confession routine.”
“Which they don’t.”
“Not for a minute.” He took a sip of his soda. “Contrary to popular belief, most suicide victims don’t leave notes. The killer got creative. He also got too clever cleaning up after himself. Detective Frewen is waiting for the medical examiner to rule officially, but he’s betting the same person who murdered the singer offed the stage manager, too.”
The same guy who was now after me. Gulp.
I pushed my food to the side. “The killer knows where I work. I’m worried he’ll come after me and end up hurting one of my students.”
“I’d like to say he won’t, but at this point anything is possible.”
That was not the answer I wanted to hear. “We have a concert tomorrow night. It’s been advertised in the newspaper, and it’s listed on the school’s website. Do you think there’s a chance the killer will show up?”
“Maybe.”
Note to self: Never go to Mike when you want to feel better about anything. The guy had a gun, however, and knew how to use it. At this point, that meant more than words of comfort.
Sneezing, I tried to ignore the panic bubbling inside my chest. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Mike grinned. “Already setting up a second date?”
“I want you to come to the concert and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
“You want me to watch a high school choir concert?”
The horror in his voice made me laugh. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” If it was, it would be the last high school choir concert either one of us would see. “I’ll feel better if I know you’re there to protect my kids in case of emergency.”
“I’ve had to sit through my niece’s choir concerts. They’re brutal.”
“This one won’t be.” At least, I hoped not. Mike didn’t look convinced, so I added, “You’d never forgive yourself if the killer showed up and you weren’t there.” Mike still didn’t cave. “How about I buy you a drink after the concert to say thank you?”
“It’s going to need to be a really big drink.”
“It will be. I promise.”
“The chances of the killer showing up at the school are slim. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“Good.” Mike grinned. “Then I can pretend this was an elaborate ruse to ask me out on a date.” He stood up and brushed a wayward sesame seed off his lap. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Wear a sexy dress and don’t do anything to antagonize the killer before then. Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and let the cops do their jobs. Okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, Mike winked and strolled out the restaurant door, leaving me to clean up his trash. Who said chivalry was dead?
Bolstered—albeit slightly queasy—from my dinner of salt, greenery, and grease, I steered my car through traffic to the theater. During the drive, Mike’s warning to keep my head down rang in my head. The idea of further
His expression didn’t change. “The killer wouldn’t come after you without a reason. Now, what did you do?”
I put down the French fry. The man had a valid point. Taking a sip of my soda, I gave him the rundown on my meeting with Bill and the hints he’d dropped about Magdalena’s mysterious allergy. As I talked, a sick, oily sensation spread through my gut. “You don’t think Bill died because I asked him to meet with me last night?”
I waited for Mike to offer immediate reassurance. When he didn’t, the salad I’d eaten threatened to reappear. “I’m the reason Bill died?”
“No.” Mike leaned forward, looking me square in the eyes. “The killer is the reason Bill’s dead. Bill either knew something the killer didn’t want getting out or the killer thought the cops would buy the suicide/confession routine.”
“Which they don’t.”
“Not for a minute.” He took a sip of his soda. “Contrary to popular belief, most suicide victims don’t leave notes. The killer got creative. He also got too clever cleaning up after himself. Detective Frewen is waiting for the medical examiner to rule officially, but he’s betting the same person who murdered the singer offed the stage manager, too.”
The same guy who was now after me. Gulp.
I pushed my food to the side. “The killer knows where I work. I’m worried he’ll come after me and end up hurting one of my students.”
“I’d like to say he won’t, but at this point anything is possible.”
That was not the answer I wanted to hear. “We have a concert tomorrow night. It’s been advertised in the newspaper, and it’s listed on the school’s website. Do you think there’s a chance the killer will show up?”
“Maybe.”
Note to self: Never go to Mike when you want to feel better about anything. The guy had a gun, however, and knew how to use it. At this point, that meant more than words of comfort.
Sneezing, I tried to ignore the panic bubbling inside my chest. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Mike grinned. “Already setting up a second date?”
“I want you to come to the concert and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
“You want me to watch a high school choir concert?”
The horror in his voice made me laugh. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” If it was, it would be the last high school choir concert either one of us would see. “I’ll feel better if I know you’re there to protect my kids in case of emergency.”
“I’ve had to sit through my niece’s choir concerts. They’re brutal.”
“This one won’t be.” At least, I hoped not. Mike didn’t look convinced, so I added, “You’d never forgive yourself if the killer showed up and you weren’t there.” Mike still didn’t cave. “How about I buy you a drink after the concert to say thank you?”
“It’s going to need to be a really big drink.”
“It will be. I promise.”
“The chances of the killer showing up at the school are slim. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“Good.” Mike grinned. “Then I can pretend this was an elaborate ruse to ask me out on a date.” He stood up and brushed a wayward sesame seed off his lap. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Wear a sexy dress and don’t do anything to antagonize the killer before then. Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and let the cops do their jobs. Okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, Mike winked and strolled out the restaurant door, leaving me to clean up his trash. Who said chivalry was dead?
Bolstered—albeit slightly queasy—from my dinner of salt, greenery, and grease, I steered my car through traffic to the theater. During the drive, Mike’s warning to keep my head down rang in my head. The idea of further
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