Dead Is a Killer Tune Page 8

  The rest of the set went without a hitch, but Dominic was stony-faced as he sang. As soon as the last song was over, he stalked off the stage.

  I followed him. “Was that a prophetic song?”

  He ignored me and walked over to the opposite side of the room, where he was approached by his throng of admirers. I didn’t follow him.

  As I left the stage, I was shocked to see Chief Wells in the front row. Teddie Myles sat next to her. She waved at me to come over. I went reluctantly.

  “Jessica, I wanted to introduce you to my little sister.”

  I looked around, but didn’t see anyone besides the chief.

  Teddie let out a bellow of laughter. “I get that a lot,” she said. “This is my sister, Chief Louella Wells.”

  “We’ve met,” the chief said shortly.

  “The chief thinks I’m trouble,” I explained to Teddie, only half-kidding.

  She chuckled, but the chief didn’t even crack a smile. Teddie turned to her sister and said, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Lou. Jessica is special.” I wasn’t imagining the emphasis she placed upon the word.

  “Special? Like you were?” Chief Wells seemed skeptical until Teddie nodded gravely.

  “Exactly like me.”

  “Interesting.” The chief turned her gaze upon me and I squirmed.

  “I’d better be going,” I said. I was still having trouble accepting that the two of them were sisters.

  Drew Barrymore’s Boyfriends were up next, and while they played well enough to make it to the next round of the tournament, I couldn’t help but notice the absence of their star, Scotty Turntable.

  I caught up with DBBF’s singer after their set. “Hi, there,” I said.

  “No autographs right now,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m not a fan,” I said.

  He gave me an offended look and I realized what I had said.

  “No, I mean, I am a fan,” I said. “But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name,” I said. “I’m Jessica.”

  “Trevor,” he said.

  “Trevor, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  I held up the pick I’d found at Ms. Minerva’s. “Do you recognize this?”

  He squinted at it. “It’s one of our guitar picks,” he said.

  “Do you know who it belongs to?”

  He shook his head. “No idea,” he said. “It’s a promotional item. We hand them out by the dozens.”

  A dead end.

  “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

  “Anything weird going on with the band?” I asked.

  His easy smile disappeared. “Why do you ask?”

  “Something happened?”

  His answer wasn’t what I expected. “I don’t know what you heard, but that thing with Talulah Crank was blown way out of proportion. She and Scotty worked things out.”

  “Worked what out?”

  “She wanted him to leave the band, go solo,” he burst out. “Can you believe it? When he wouldn’t, she went ballistic.”

  Could Talulah Crank be the one behind everything? Despite her icy demeanor, it didn’t fit. She had a reputation for being good to her artists.

  “Where’s Scotty tonight?” I asked.

  Trevor looked uncomfortable. “We don’t really know, actually,” he admitted. “But he’s probably just sick. We’re under lots of stress playing so often, you know?”

  I thanked him and then went outside to find Flo’s van, but it was already gone.

  “I told her I’d give you a ride home,” Dominic said, coming up behind me.

  He didn’t say anything during the ride, but abruptly pulled into the park instead of taking me home. The park looked different at night. The paths were deserted, the swings creaked from a slight breeze, and moonlight cast eerie shadows.

  I shivered and turned my attention back to Dominic. “Did you want to talk to me about something? What’s wrong?”

  “You asked me if that song was prophetic,” he said. “It was, but I can’t figure out why.”

  “Does it mean anything to you?” I asked.

  “Not a thing,” he replied. “I’ve never sung it before. There is one thing, though. I sang one line twice.”

  “What was the line?”

  “Something about the piper,” he said. “I just don’t get it.”

  “There aren’t any children missing from Nightshade,” he said.

  “Well, there may be a musician missing,” I said. “Drew Barrymore’s Boyfriends don’t seem to know where Scotty Turntable is. And then there are the injured musicians—Jeff Cool, and Sheila from Wet Noodles for Three. They didn’t seem to know what they were doing when they hurt themselves. Maybe something is making them do it.”

  “Weird things started happening right after the estate sale. Maybe the estate sale company has some information about the stolen flute,” he suggested. “Or maybe we can figure out the history of the flute some other way. Like the library.”

  I gave him an impulsive hug. “Brilliant idea. Let’s start there.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. We stayed like that for a long moment, but then from the side mirror, I caught sight of red lights flashing behind us.

  “Not now,” I groaned.

  Dominic misunderstood me and moved away. “Sorry,” he said in a hurt tone.

  “It’s not that,” I said. “It’s that.” I pointed to the flashing lights.

  There was a tap at the driver’s side window. Then a flashlight was shone into the vehicle and I put up an arm to shield my eyes. The light moved away and I relaxed a bit.

  “License and registration,” the police officer said. I recognized that voice. Chief Wells. Great.

  Dominic got some papers out of the glove box and handed them over.

  “We weren’t doing anything,” I said defensively.

  The flashlight came back my way. “Jessica Walsh,” she said. “Why am I not surprised to see you? What are you two doing out past curfew?”

  “I’m sorry, Chief Wells, I wasn’t aware there was a curfew,” Dominic said politely.

  “I want you two to go home immediately.” She handed the papers back to him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dominic said.

  “No more late-night visits to the park,” she said.

  He started up the car and pulled away slowly.

  “She made it sound like she caught us parking or something,” I said.

  “We were parking,” he replied.

  “No, we were parked,” I said. “But we weren’t doing anything wrong.”

  “Why are you so upset?” he asked. “It’s no big deal.”

  “She basically told Teddie that she thinks I’m trouble,” I told him. “And it bugs me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “You protect Nightshade. There’s nothing more noble than that.”

  “Tell that to Chief Wells,” I replied.

  “I will,” he said.

  I laid a hand on his arm. “Thanks, but it’s not worth it. She’s already made up her mind about me.” The ironic part was that so had he. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be changing either of their minds anytime soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  I knew I was going to need to cram in as much practice as possible before the next round of Battle of the Bands. The chorus room was usually empty after school. I’d brought my guitar, the one Dominic had given me.

  I heard whispering as I walked through the door. Harmony’s back was to me, so she didn’t see me walk in. She had what looked like sheet music clutched in her hands, but she appeared to be talking to herself.

  She began to sing, and again I was blown away by how much her voice had improved. Her skill was increasing every day. Her sudden singing ability, combined with her cozy new friendship with Selena, made me suspicious.

  She must have sensed my pres
ence, because she whipped around and glared at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I held up my guitar case. “I thought I’d practice.”

  The intensity of her glare diminished. “You can come back in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll do that.” I started to leave, but turned around to add, “You sound really good, Harmony. Great even.”

  She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s not good enough. Have you ever wanted something so badly, something that feels out of your reach?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I bet you haven’t. I bet you get everything you want.”

  “Nobody gets everything they want. I certainly don’t.”

  “That’s not what it seems like,” she said. Her desire to confide in me abruptly ended. She propped her music up on the piano and sat on the bench, her back to me again. It was a clear signal to leave, but I didn’t.

  She sang soft and low, in another language. It sounded like she was speaking German. I didn’t understand the words, but the emotions were clear. She was singing about a lost love, someone she loved but who didn’t love her back.

  I could relate to that kind of rejection. I clapped loudly when she finished, but Harmony didn’t even move.

  I went around to the other side of the piano to face her. “I didn’t know you spoke German.”

  She was so still. I felt like she was somewhere else. Literally. I waved a hand in front of her face, but she didn’t even blink. The lights were on, but nobody was home.

  “Harmony? Harmony!” She didn’t answer me. I snapped my fingers. “Hey, wake up already.”

  She finally stirred. “W-w-what?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little tired. I’ve been practicing a lot. What were you saying again?”

  “That I didn’t know you spoke German.”

  “I don’t,” she said absently. Her mind was clearly on something else, but then she focused and her gaze sharpened. “Wait. What did you say?”

  “The song,” I spelled out. “It was in German.”

  “You heard wrong,” she insisted.

  I wasn’t going to stand there arguing with her, and it was clear that she wasn’t going to give up the choir room any time soon.

  After leaving school, I went to the Nightshade public library to do some research about Mr. Lindquist’s flute. Ms. Johns was at the reference desk, but her usual smile was missing.

  “What can I help you with today?”

  “Does the library have any information about the origins of the flute stolen from Mr. Lindquist?” I asked. “He said it was really rare.”

  “Mr. Lindquist?” Her face paled.

  I nodded. “We wanted to try to help him get it back. I know it’s a long shot.”

  “Then you haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?” I was confused. She looked upset, but what could I have said that would make her react that way?

  “Mr. Lindquist died two days ago,” she said. “The people from the moving company found him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “How did he die?”

  “They’re not saying.”

  I tried to absorb the news, but there was a sick feeling in my stomach. Something odd was going on. Mr. Lindquist was supposed to be in Florida by now, enjoying his retirement.

  “When’s the funeral?”

  “Sunday afternoon,” Ms. Johns said. She gave me the particulars of the service and as we said our goodbyes, she added, “And Jessica, the library has a couple of books about magical instruments.” She wrote down the titles and pointed me in the right direction.

  I decided to check out a book about the legend of the Pied Piper, along with a few others.

  I came home with a stack of books, but I didn’t get the chance to read any of them that night.

  I wasn’t looking forward to virago practice. Flo had excused me since I’d caved about joining Side Effects May Vary, but Raven had talked me into going anyway.

  “I miss you,” she said. “And besides, Flo said we’re doing something special.”

  “Special” turned out to be virago boot camp, which was twice as hard as regular virago training. What made it worse was that the park was crowded with Hamlin fans.

  After about a hundred planks, I called out, “I give!”

  Andy managed about three more before she collapsed next to me.

  After practice, we decided to have a quick breakfast at Slim’s.

  “Want to come with us, Flo?” I asked.

  “I get enough of that place, thanks,” she replied. “Besides, I’m having brunch with Hunter to celebrate. He sold a song to a record label, and a very famous singer is recording it.”

  Wishing powder, no doubt.

  The thought made me lose my appetite, but only until we got to Slim’s and I smelled his fresh cinnamon rolls. Brett Piper sat at a booth extremely close to Katrina Phillips, but a cute girl wearing a UC Nightshade tee walked by and he stared at her openly.

  “That guy is a creep,” Andy said.

  I nudged her, and she looked abashed. “Sorry, Raven.”

  “It’s okay,” Raven said. “I think he’s a creep too.”

  I stared at Brett. “What does she see in him?”

  “I don’t get it either,” Raven said.

  Brett felt us watching him and gave us a big wink. We all looked away hurriedly.

  “Slim’s having a karaoke night tonight,” Andy said. “Isn’t that exciting?”

  “If you say so,” Raven said. She didn’t like the spotlight.

  “It will be fun,” Andy coaxed. “Everyone in Nightshade is going to be here. It’s a fundraiser for Battle of the Bands.”

  “Isn’t karaoke kind of nineties?” Raven asked.

  “Exactly,” Andy said. “That’s why it will be fun. It’s retro.”

  She was so excited about it, I couldn’t say no. “I’m in,” I said.

  “And maybe you guys can spend the night at my house afterward?” Andy asked. She was a junior. There was no way the words “slumber party” were going to cross her lips.

  “I’ll ask Aunt Katrina, but I think she’ll say yes,” Raven said.

  “It’s got to be more fun than our last slumber party,” I said. We’d spent the night nursing Eva, who’d been infected with a zombie virus. Speaking of which—“Can Eva come too?”

  Andy nodded. “The more the merrier,” she said. “I’m going to invite a couple of girls from my class.”

  Raven and I exchanged glances. Selena. It was Andy’s party, after all. I tried to smile, but it took an effort. “Great.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  My whole family decided to go to Slim’s karaoke night. We took the enormous passenger van that we used to haul our entire family around.

  We even had room for Eva. She and I helped unload the little ones while my sister Sarah acted all cool. Because she was in eighth grade, she thought she was too adult to hang out with the little kids.

  As soon as we walked into the diner, she ran off to hang out with her best friend. Andy was sitting with Eva’s sister Bethany, Bethany’s best friend, Tiffany, and Selena, Harmony, and Raven. Dominic and his aunt were at a table next to them.

  “Let’s sit in the front,” Katie said. She tugged on my hand and dragged me to a long table near the mike. The rest of the family followed.

  “There are your friends,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go ahead and sit with them?”

  Eva and I looked at each other. “We’ll hang out with you guys for a while.” Anything to avoid Bethany.

  “Anybody hungry?” Dad asked. There was a chorus of yeses from my sisters.

  After Flo took our order, Katie jumped up and ran over to Dominic. He grinned and gave a nod. He was so good with my little sister. The Giordanos sat at a table in the back, but Ryan wasn’t there and neither was Rose’s boyfriend, Nicholas. No Connor, either, which was kind of odd, since he was participating in Battle of the Bands.

  A large noisy group
walked into the diner, headed by the members of Hamlin. Brett was in the front of the pack and an adoring fan hung on each of his arms.

  I shook my head. “Their fans never leave them alone.”

  Slim and his fiancée, Natalie, stood by the door greeting customers.

  “Have you noticed anything different about Slim?” I asked Eva. Tonight, he was dressed in a dinner jacket and a hat and scarf that concealed most of his face and the fact that Slim was Nightshade’s version of the invisible man.

  “Not really,” she said.

  “He looks a little more solid than usual,” I replied.

  “Solid?” she asked.

  “Like less invisible and more visible.”

  She stared at him until I nudged her to stop. “I think you’re right,” she said as he walked to the front of the crowd and took the microphone.

  “Welcome to the first annual Slim’s Diner Karaoke Night,” Slim said. “All donations will go toward the grand prize for the Battle of the Bands event. Now, who wants to go first?”

  The restaurant was full of Nightshade citizens, but nobody stepped up to the mike. “It’s a fundraiser,” Slim reminded the crowd.

  Brett Piper, the lead singer from Hamlin, took the stage and snatched the microphone from Slim. Brett launched into a pitchy rendition of Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” but the karaoke machine wasn’t even on yet. Slim reached over and pushed the power button.

  Brett continued to sing, but I noticed his fans seemed to lose interest after about the second out-of-tune Whitesnake song.

  Eva nudged me. “The magic is gone.” She was joking, but her comment made me think. Was Brett’s allure solely a magical one? There were plenty of singers who needed Auto-Tuning to sound good, but his fans seemed slavishly adoring and I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe magic was the answer?

  Brett started on another song and there were audible groans from the audience. Slim eased the mike out of Brett’s hands. “Let’s give a round of applause for Brett, everyone. You’ll see his band, Hamlin, at round three of Nightshade’s Battle of the Bands.”

  “How is it possible that they’ve made it this far?” I said.