WHEN THE MUSIC DIES (MUSIC CITY MURDERS Book 1) by KEN VANDERPOOL Page B
Authors: KEN VANDERPOOL
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winter.
“I’m heading home,” Cheryl said. “I figured you would be at the gym about now.”
“Good guess. I’m just leaving.”
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mrs. Wallace?”
“I called to invite you to dinner tonight.”
“Really?”
“I’m preparing your favorite: my three-meat, three-cheese lasagna.”
“Wow, that’s good stuff, but isn’t that fattening?”
“Not so much the way I make it; whole wheat pasta, low fat cheeses and extra-lean meat.”
“Is the big guy so socially unskilled he couldn’t manage his own partner’s dinner invitation?”
“No. I told him I wanted to invite you myself.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you need to invite me?”
“Michael, why do you have to make this so difficult?”
“I’m not making it difficult. It’s my job to ask questions and gather information. It’s what I do. I just don’t understand why Norm didn’t say anything about it.”
“I asked him not to say anything. Like I said, I wanted to invite you myself.”
“Okay, so who’s going to be there?”
“What makes you think someone’s going to be there?”
“Cheryl—I know you. You’ve been trying to set me up for the last two years.”
“I have not. Besides, what’s wrong with me being concerned about you? You’re my friend and I love you. I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, but you don’t have to take it upon yourself to try and make me happy. I am happy enough.”
“Mike, you know what I mean.”
“Yes. I’m afraid I do.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, I may accept your invitation, but under one condition.”
“What?”
“You tell me who is going to be there in addition to me, you and the big one.”
“Michael,” Cheryl hesitated. “It’s a surprise.”
“Cheryl, you know me. I do not like surprises. Who is it?”
“You are hopeless.”
“Thank you. Who?”
“A fan.”
“I have a fan?”
“She likes the way you look, and I told her what a great guy I think you are.”
“Two fans. Now, I have two fans. We could start a club.”
“Michael, give me a break. Are you coming to dinner or not?”
“Who?”
“Okay. Carol Spencer.”
“Carol? Our Carol?” Mike acted surprised. He knew that Norm suspected his connection with Carol, but he’d always been tactful enough not to bring it up. Obviously, Norm had also not divulged his suspicions to his wife.
“Yes, Carol.”
“She likes the way I look?” Mike asked.
“Yes. Mike, you need to open up to potential relationships.”
“Cheryl, are you forgetting about Captain Moretti’s Law? Carol is a co-worker.”
“Screw Moretti,” Cheryl said. “He doesn’t have to know everything.”
“He thinks he does.”
“We’ll make this our little secret. It’s only dinner. Okay?
“I—don’t know.”
“So, are you coming?”
“Let me think about it.”
“Michael?”
“Of course, I’ll come.”
“Well, why don’t you say so?”
“I just did.”
“Remind me to punch you out later.”
“Oooo. Sounds like fun. What time is dinner?”
“I’d like you to arrive about eight o’clock.”
“As long as our neighbors don’t interfere by killing each other, I’ll be there. I’ll bring a couple bottles of that Arrington Vineyards Cabernet you and Norm got me hooked on.”
“Great idea.”
“Cheryl.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Mike.”
“Me too. See ya later.”
Mike closed his cell and thanked God for his friends.
Chapter 13
----
Quick Market, Hwy 64
Hubbard County, Tennessee
Tuesday Morning
Brad Evans stopped at the market to fill his truck with gasoline and pick up a few groceries. He was confident no one had witnessed the shooting of the gangster artist last night, but he was still a bit hypersensitive to his surroundings. It had been many years since he’d killed another man. It had been that long since Brad was motivated to take a life.
As he walked through the door, he heard his
“I’m heading home,” Cheryl said. “I figured you would be at the gym about now.”
“Good guess. I’m just leaving.”
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mrs. Wallace?”
“I called to invite you to dinner tonight.”
“Really?”
“I’m preparing your favorite: my three-meat, three-cheese lasagna.”
“Wow, that’s good stuff, but isn’t that fattening?”
“Not so much the way I make it; whole wheat pasta, low fat cheeses and extra-lean meat.”
“Is the big guy so socially unskilled he couldn’t manage his own partner’s dinner invitation?”
“No. I told him I wanted to invite you myself.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you need to invite me?”
“Michael, why do you have to make this so difficult?”
“I’m not making it difficult. It’s my job to ask questions and gather information. It’s what I do. I just don’t understand why Norm didn’t say anything about it.”
“I asked him not to say anything. Like I said, I wanted to invite you myself.”
“Okay, so who’s going to be there?”
“What makes you think someone’s going to be there?”
“Cheryl—I know you. You’ve been trying to set me up for the last two years.”
“I have not. Besides, what’s wrong with me being concerned about you? You’re my friend and I love you. I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, but you don’t have to take it upon yourself to try and make me happy. I am happy enough.”
“Mike, you know what I mean.”
“Yes. I’m afraid I do.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, I may accept your invitation, but under one condition.”
“What?”
“You tell me who is going to be there in addition to me, you and the big one.”
“Michael,” Cheryl hesitated. “It’s a surprise.”
“Cheryl, you know me. I do not like surprises. Who is it?”
“You are hopeless.”
“Thank you. Who?”
“A fan.”
“I have a fan?”
“She likes the way you look, and I told her what a great guy I think you are.”
“Two fans. Now, I have two fans. We could start a club.”
“Michael, give me a break. Are you coming to dinner or not?”
“Who?”
“Okay. Carol Spencer.”
“Carol? Our Carol?” Mike acted surprised. He knew that Norm suspected his connection with Carol, but he’d always been tactful enough not to bring it up. Obviously, Norm had also not divulged his suspicions to his wife.
“Yes, Carol.”
“She likes the way I look?” Mike asked.
“Yes. Mike, you need to open up to potential relationships.”
“Cheryl, are you forgetting about Captain Moretti’s Law? Carol is a co-worker.”
“Screw Moretti,” Cheryl said. “He doesn’t have to know everything.”
“He thinks he does.”
“We’ll make this our little secret. It’s only dinner. Okay?
“I—don’t know.”
“So, are you coming?”
“Let me think about it.”
“Michael?”
“Of course, I’ll come.”
“Well, why don’t you say so?”
“I just did.”
“Remind me to punch you out later.”
“Oooo. Sounds like fun. What time is dinner?”
“I’d like you to arrive about eight o’clock.”
“As long as our neighbors don’t interfere by killing each other, I’ll be there. I’ll bring a couple bottles of that Arrington Vineyards Cabernet you and Norm got me hooked on.”
“Great idea.”
“Cheryl.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Mike.”
“Me too. See ya later.”
Mike closed his cell and thanked God for his friends.
Chapter 13
----
Quick Market, Hwy 64
Hubbard County, Tennessee
Tuesday Morning
Brad Evans stopped at the market to fill his truck with gasoline and pick up a few groceries. He was confident no one had witnessed the shooting of the gangster artist last night, but he was still a bit hypersensitive to his surroundings. It had been many years since he’d killed another man. It had been that long since Brad was motivated to take a life.
As he walked through the door, he heard his
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