A Chorus Lineup (A Glee Club Mystery) (19 page)

All in all, everyone was having a good time. Strike that. There was one person sitting at the far end of one table with her eyes firmly fixed on the untouched food in front of her. An overly bright smile was plastered on Megan’s face, but I’d lay odds that there were tears in her eyes. After taking one last bite of pizza, I wiped my hands on my napkin and pushed back my chair. It was time to play teacher.

“Megan, can we talk?”

The stab of panic in her eyes made my heart hurt, but I kept my smile pleasantly neutral as she stood and followed me out of the large room and into the hall.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“I’m great.” Megan smiled. “The vocal rest is helping.”

I could tell how much she wanted me to believe her, and I hated that I didn’t. “Sing the opening of the first song for me.”

Megan swallowed hard. “You want me to sing?” Her speaking voice sounded better than yesterday, but the deeper timbre and slight rasp in the sound told me that Megan had yet to recover fully.

I nodded and listened carefully as Megan sang the opening notes to our competition set. “That’s enough.” I sighed. “Claire will do the run-through after dinner, and as much as I hate to do this, I’m going to have her compete with the team in the preliminary round.”

“No. I’ll be okay by tomorrow. I promise.”

The trembling lip almost made me cave. “Yes, but if you sing tomorrow, it’s doubtful you’ll have a voice for the final competition on Friday.”

Overtaxing swollen vocal cords would only lead to additional problems.

“But we might not make it to the final round.” Tears bloomed in Megan’s eyes.

Ugh. No one ever told me that feeling like the Grinch who stole Christmas was part of a teacher’s job description. “I have to put the best performers on the floor tomorrow in order to make sure that we do. Keep resting your voice. By Friday you’ll be one of those performers. Okay?”

“Okay.” Megan’s voice cracked. Yep. By doing my job, I’d officially broken her heart.

More than anything, I wanted to take back my decision. After all, this wasn’t brain surgery. No one would die if tomorrow’s performance wasn’t perfect. But my job wasn’t simply to make these kids look good onstage. It was to make sure that those entering the world of performing beyond their high school walls would be prepared for what lay ahead. Megan was going to be a musical theater major. Megan wanted to make a career out of performing. She was ready to study and sweat and do whatever it took to succeed. But hard work was only one of the necessary ingredients in this business. Luck was another.

I gave Megan a hug. Over her shoulder, I spotted Devlyn walking down the hallway toward us. He was the one who taught me that I needed to be more to these kids than their friend. That I needed to teach them that sometimes a performer got lucky and the performance brought the house down.

As Devlyn glanced my way and then turned and walked through the ballroom doors, I though about the other times when—no matter how much you wanted to make something work—the show went on. And how you couldn’t help when it went on without you.

The run-through with Claire standing in for her sister went great—if you didn’t take into consideration Megan’s depressed face, Devlyn’s aloof attitude, and the parents’ helpful suggestions that made the rehearsal three times longer than it should have been. But by the time I’d dismissed everyone, I was confident that the students were as prepared as possible. Megan might hate sitting on the sidelines, but it was the right decision. How teachers did this year in and year out was beyond me.

Larry gave the kids a final pep talk and told everyone they had to be in their rooms by ten o’clock. While he spoke, I noticed Christine McCann standing near one of the ballroom entrances. She’d changed out of her work attire. In her light blue denim capris and yellow T-shirt, she blended in with the parents. Except for her eyes. Those were all business as they took in the way the students listened to my aunt discuss the makeup process for the next day.

When the notes had been given and the departure time for tomorrow morning announced, I gave the kids one final warning to get some sleep and called an end to rehearsal. The kids gathered their things and raced out of the ballroom to get in one last swim before bed. I headed in Christine’s direction.

“What’s she doing here?” Larry grabbed my arm and pointed toward Christine. “Do you think someone else d-d-died?”

Everyone still in the room turned toward us. Oh no. Larry’s less than subtle volume had struck again.

“I asked Christine to meet me here to discuss backstage security. The last thing we want is for our costumes to be tampered with. We also don’t need parents getting involved in this issue.” I sent a deliberate look at Chessie’s parents, who had gotten out of their seats and were headed in this direction. “I don’t think either of us want our team to get booted before they ever get the chance to compete.”

Larry got the hint. He headed off to intercept Chessie’s parents while I crossed the ballroom to where Christine McCann waited.

“Your team is impressive.” Christine smiled. “I thought they were good when I watched their videos online, but they’re better live.”

“I’d think most teams are. It’s hard to capture the energy of a live show and the mix of the voices on cell phone video.”

Christine laughed. “You haven’t been in this business long enough to understand how far some directors will go to ensure their team looks like the one to beat. I know several who have spent a great deal of money overdubbing the vocals and touching up the video with enough imperfections to make it look as if it was recorded live.”

Wow. If I had that kind of money, I’d find a better use for it than creating a fake version of our team’s musical numbers. Who wastes their bank account on that kind of thing?

“Two years ago, a team from the West Coast was invited to this competition based on their moderate competition success and a video that was sent for the selection committee’s review. When they got here, it was clear that they weren’t in the same league as the rest of the teams. They were eliminated on the first day, but based on their ‘success’ their coach was offered a position at a private and better-paying school.”

Yikes. Although after what I knew about some of the coaches, including the dearly departed Greg Lucas, I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d thought succeeding in show business was bad. Add academics into the mix, and it brought the stakes to a whole new level.

“Maybe Donna had a similar reason for her actions yesterday.” I pulled Chessie’s cell phone out of my purse. It took me a few minutes to find the gallery icon, but soon the small screen was filled with Donna’s brown-wigged figure coming through a door. “One of my students was playing hooky from her master class and went to our staging room. She heard the sound of ripping cloth coming from nearby and decided to see what was going on.”

I slid my finger across the screen and the image of ripped satin appeared, followed by another shot of Donna’s back as she headed down the hallway. The photos had been taken in a hurry. I doubted they would hold up in court if it ever came to that. But the widening of Christine’s eyes said that she had recognized Donna’s face despite the off-kilter photography and all that curly brown hair. The time stamp on the photograph sealed the deal.

“Donna had a family emergency yesterday.” Christine’s voice lacked the authority she normally had. “She wasn’t in the performing arts center.”

I flipped back to the first picture. “It looks like Donna was dealing with an emergency closer to home. One that involved Scott Paris.”

Christine’s head snapped toward me. “Scott? Do you have a photograph of him, too?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he and Donna are in this together.” Quickly, I ran through the things I’d discovered. The perfectly repaired costumes. How Scott warned me off my investigation for Christine. Finally, the look on his face after I accused him of being involved with the sabotage.

Christine shook her head. “There might be a simple explanation for those things. Something that has nothing to do with the damage from yesterday.”

There could be, but off the top of my head I couldn’t come up with what that might be. Especially not when I factored in Donna’s willingness to be blackmailed by a teenager in order to keep her actions confidential. I was going to say that, but Christine was on a roll.

“Donna is such a recognizable face around here.” She looked down at the phone in my hand. “It’s almost impossible for her to go anywhere without being noticed. She probably didn’t have time to deal with the usual fanfare when she came to the theater yesterday. That must be why she chose to wear a wig.”

Wow. Christine had earned an A in justification. I almost hated to burst her creative bubble, but there was a lot more at stake than Christine’s well-developed fantasy.

“Why don’t you call them and see what they have to say?”

Christine’s head snapped up. “Do you know what would happen if word got out that I accused a country-western star or one of the most celebrated choir directors of wrongdoing without more proof than this? The sponsors would pull their support for sure. School districts would no longer be interested in sending their students to our program. The competition would be finished. I can’t let that happen.”

“You also can’t risk anything worse happening.” I slid Chessie’s phone back into my purse and pulled out my own. “What would the press and the sponsors say if another incident occurred tomorrow and they learned you had information that could have stopped it? Unless you want to leave that up to chance, I say we call Donna and Scott now and ask for an explanation.”

Christine’s eyes narrowed, and I stepped away to give her a chance to think. Christine struck me as the type who hated being backed into a corner. No doubt that feeling was the reason she had forced me to look into yesterday’s incidents. I’d done my part, but if she felt like I was being too pushy, she could still make good on her threat to have my kids blackballed.

As Christine mulled over the possibilities, I looked around the ballroom. Larry must have successfully smoothed the feathers of Chessie’s parents. They were now gone. The only person remaining was Devlyn. He was seated in one of the chairs, watching me. The anger I’d seen earlier was gone. Now there was curiosity and a hint of wistfulness that, despite my resolve, tugged at my heart.

“You’re right.” Christine blew a lock of hair off her face. “None of this will get reconciled without talking to Donna and Scott, which I plan for us to do right now.”

Christine pulled out her cell phone and started messaging the parties involved. One thing I would say for the woman was that when it came to rapid-fire texting, Christine had skills. I could never manage to get my fingers to hit the right buttons on the first try. Thanks to autocorrect I had a tendency to send messages that meant something completely different from what I’d intended. Christine must not have that problem since moments later her phone dinged. Donna had texted back. She and Scott would be here as soon as they could get across town.

“They’ll meet us in the front of the hotel. Is there somewhere more private than this where the four of us can talk?” Christine asked, sending a deliberate look toward Devlyn. “I think we’ll have an easier time learning the truth if Donna isn’t worried about being recognized.”

While I doubted that anything about this conversation was going to be easy, I couldn’t deny Christine’s point. “We can use my hotel room.” If nothing else, I’d have several hands to help stack instrument cases. Multitasking at its finest.

“I have calls I need to make. Let’s meet in the lobby in ten minutes.”

With those words I was dismissed. Christine put her phone up to her ear, and I headed for the exit farthest from Devlyn’s watchful eyes, hoping the hospitality area of the lobby still had coffee brewing. I needed caffeine, and I needed it now.

The coffee urn was still full. The bad news was the coffee machine had been unplugged and the coffee was now cold. Bummer. I’d just have to make do with a soda from the vending machine.

I was debating between a Diet Dr Pepper and a Diet Coke when a voice asked, “Is everything okay?”

Devlyn.

“Everything’s fine.” Or it would be once I chugged my drink. I unscrewed the top and took a hit before turning toward Devlyn. “There are a few details Christine needs to iron out, but our team will be able to compete fair and square tomorrow.”

Devlyn gave me one of his slow, sexy smiles. “That’s good to hear. The kids owe a lot to you, even if they don’t always know it.” His smile faded. “They’re not the only ones who owe you something. I owe you an apology. I had a knee-jerk emotional reaction to the news about your audition. It was juvenile and unfair and I’m sorry.”

As far as apologies went, Devlyn’s was pretty darn good. And he wasn’t done.

“Your aunt spoke to me before rehearsal and told me that you scheduled your flights so that you could be here for our team’s performances.” He shoved his hands into his back pants pockets and sighed. “I should have known you’d never let this audition get in the way of showing your support for these kids. I should’ve asked you about it, instead of assuming you were abandoning everything we’ve created together. Can you forgive me?”

Devlyn reached out his hand. Part of me wanted to meet him halfway. But instead, I looked at my watch and said, “Christine is waiting for me in the lobby. I have to go.”

He stepped out of the doorway. As I walked by he said, “You’re still mad.”

I stopped walking and turned to look at him. His face was just as handsome as the first day we met. I could still remember the way my heart jumped when he gave me a smile. My heart wasn’t jumping now.

“I’m not mad.” Sad was more accurate. “There’s just a lot going on. We need to focus on getting the kids through the competition. Once we’re back in Chicago, we’ll have time to talk. Okay?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I had a text message, but I wasn’t concerned about that. All I could think about was the hurt blooming in Devlyn’s eyes as the subtext of my words hit home. We could talk when we got back to Chicago, but an in-depth discussion wouldn’t change what I knew to be true. The boundaries of Devlyn’s life were set. He was looking for someone willing to live within those lines. With a little more time, I could probably fall in love with him. But this week had taught me something important. Devlyn wanted to be supportive of my performing career. He told the truth every time he said he believed in my talent. But I now knew that he also believed the job he was doing was more important than my dream of being onstage. If my career ever took off, I would be forced to choose between him and my dream. It was better to feel sad now than to have my heart broken later.

“Sure.” Devlyn’s fingers brushed mine. “I’m going to go help Jim play lifeguard. If you need me for anything, just give me a call.”

I watched him walk down the hall toward chlorine and chaos and then fished my cell phone out and looked at the screen. Alan had texted. He wanted to know whether I’d decided what I was singing on Friday. If not, I needed to figure it out soon. I tapped back that I would send him my choices tonight, hit “send,” and shoved the phone back into my purse. Alan was right. I needed to pick my audition pieces and make sure they were polished and ready to go. And I would. But first things first. I had to meet Christine and company. It was time to learn what Donna and Scott were really up to.