Obsessed by Jo Gibson Page A

on a night when we were dark. Closing down Covers won’t change that.”
    “Carla’s right.” Andy spoke up. “Nobody’s been mur dered around here. If the killer’s smart, he knows that Cov ers is staked out every night. This might be the only place where we’re all safe.”
    “I don’t know.” Mr. Calloway looked very uneasy. “Is it fair to take a chance with your lives? I feel responsible for all of you.”
    Linda’s face was still white, but she sat up a little straighter. “I’m the next target, Mr. Calloway. And I don’t think you should close down. We’ll just have to be extra careful, that’s all.”
    That was the cue for everyone to chime in. No one wanted Covers to close down. Even though Mr. Calloway officially owned the club, they all thought of it as theirs. It was Michael and Linda’s chance to be seen on stage, and Judy’s opportunity to work as a stage manager. Covers was a place where Carla could practice running a small business, and where Andy could try out new recipes in the kitchen. Vera wanted to own a bar someday, and Covers was her opportunity to practice mixing drinks, ordering supplies, and getting along with the customers. Even Berto and In grid and Nita had a stake in the club. While it was true that they only took orders and served food, it was a lot more fun than working in an ordinary restaurant.
    “Okay, okay.” Mr. Calloway held up his hands for silence. “I’ll keep Covers open for now. But nobody goes anywhere without a cell phone, and we’ll continue the car pool.”
    There were smiles all around, and Mr. Calloway turned to Andy. “You’re the expert here, Andy. Is there anything else we should be doing?”
    “We could check the guest register and try to find some one who might have a motive. I realize that Detective Davis went over it already, but we know our audience. Maybe we can spot something he missed.”
    “Okay.” Mr. Calloway motioned to Carla to get the reg ister. Then he turned back to the rest of them. “Are you absolutely sure you want to give a performance tonight?”
    One by one, they nodded. And then Michael spoke up. “The show goes on, Mr. Calloway. And it’s going to be the best show we’ve ever done. There’s no way some sicko is going to close us down!”

    Judy gave a satisfied sigh as she brought up the lights for the last act. Michael was closing the show tonight, sing ing his newest song. She’d tried a new effect tonight, soft lighting on his guitar, and a full spot on his face. Since she’d used only two lights and the rest of the stage was dark, Michael seemed to be floating in space, anchored only by the stool and his guitar.
    Judy sighed again. Michael was so handsome. His dark wavy hair gleamed under the lights and his deep, intense eyes glowed with inner strength. His skin was tanned almost bronze by the summer sun and he was dressed in a soft blue shirt and jeans. He had a strong body, and she could see the muscles in his arms ripple as he strummed his gui tar. His fingers were sensitive, stroking and caressing the strings, and she knew they would be just as sensitive touch ing her neck, her face, and her . . .
    Time to dim the spot. Judy reached out and brought the spot down gradually as Michael reached the last note of the song. There was a burst of thunderous applause and then a rhythmic clapping. An encore. They always wanted an encore. It would be another love song. Michael liked to end the evening on a mellow note.
    Judy brought up the spot again, and the audience was instantly silent. Michael smiled at them, and Judy heard their collective gasp. Michael’s smile was like sunlight on a cloudy day, glorious and radiant, stretching across his face. It turned the brooding, moody musician into a bright, shining beacon of radiant talent.
    The song started, one of Judy’s favorites, and another original. She wasn’t sure, since Michael had never men tioned it, but she thought perhaps he’d written it for her. It was