Murder for Choir by Joelle Charbonneau

for Best in Show.” Eliza put down her plate and reached for her wallet. Moments later, I was viewing professionally retouched pictures of Eliza’s wire fox terrier, Binkie. Binkie running. Binkie sitting. Binkie wearing a sparkling blue-and-white tiara. The little white-and-brown face was cute, but after the first ten photos I stopped paying attention.
    Thank God Eliza was so busy telling me about Binkie that I didn’t need to comment. That left me free to eat the other three sandwiches on my plate and grab two more. If it weren’t for her high-pitched, squeaky voice, the situation would have been ideal. The sound was great for calling dogs but bad for digestion.
    Once the photo array was stowed, I changed the subject. “You look like you work out. Does your club have good facilities?”
    “Oh yes. Although, running with Binkie is all the exercise I really need. But I do enjoy yoga. My instructor had to cancel this week, which was sad. I find yoga very relaxing.”
    “I took a yoga class last night. I wouldn’t say I found it relaxing.”
    A voice from behind laughed. “That’s because you don’t take it from Madame Zandri. She’s part yoga instructor and part psychic.”
    I turned. A tall woman with bleached blonde hair and black eyebrows stood in the doorway. She was wearing torn jeans and a faded green tank top. Most surprising, she looked to be at least thirty years younger than the rest of the guests.
    Eliza sniffed. “Madame Zandri is a lovely teacher. I know several of her private students who say they have out-of-body experiences when doing yoga with her.”
    The mystery woman grinned. “You’d have an out-of-body experience, too, if you inhaled Madame Zandri’s incense.” She turned to me and added, “She burns homegrown marijuana.”
    “I think it’s time for my facial.” Eliza frowned at the newcomer as she marched into the living room.
    As soon as she was out of earshot, I asked, “Does Madame Zandri really burn marijuana?”
    “Yep.” She sauntered into the room and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie off the table. “She also uses her homegrown incense during tarot readings.”
    “Sounds like more fun than I had. Hi. My name is Paige.”
    She smiled as she shook my hand. “Sherrie Bush. Did you take your yoga class at the club?”
    “No. Although, I believe Dana Lucas also teaches at the Glen.”
    “Dana?” Sherrie laughed. “No wonder a drug-induced haze sounds good. Dana used to be a pretty good teacher. Then her marriage went bust. I guess she couldn’t take out the aggression on her husband so she started using her students.” Sherrie finished her cookie and grabbed another.
    I snagged an oatmeal raisin and started munching. From the next room Aunt Millie’s voice announced it was pedicure time. “Do you want to get your toes done?”
    We both looked down at her feet. Sherrie was wearing black-and-red high-tops with frayed laces. In several places, I could see the white of her socks peeking through the worn fabric. My clunky white sneakers looked downright stylish in comparison.
    “Never mind.” I laughed. Then I switched to my topic of choice. “Dana’s aggression explains the low attendance at her class yesterday.”
    “Her ex-husband getting whacked probably made herstudents a little leery, too.” Sherrie chomped down on her cookie. “He was murdered a couple nights ago.”
    “I heard.” That sounded better than saying, “Yeah, I was the one who found him.” “I’d like to think her students would make a point of coming to class to express their sympathy.”
    Sherri laughed. “The new Dana doesn’t encourage sympathy.”
    “Did the old Dana?”
    Leaning against the table, Sherrie chewed on her cookie and thought about the question. “The old Dana was softer. More interested in helping people. She never yelled or raised her voice, and her classes were challenging, but only because she pushed you to get better control of your body. Going to her classes was the