THE NEXT MORNING was uneventful, and for that I was grateful. JT drove me home so I could change and pick up my best violin, and after that he gave me a ride back to his place. I spent some time practicing for the upcoming concert, and by late morning it was time to teach one of my adult students. JT and Kevin played prominent roles in my thoughts during the early part of the day, but by focusing on music I was able to keep myself from getting overwhelmed.
In the middle of the afternoon I had an hour-long break since one of my students was off at school camp for the week. JT was working with some musicians down in his studio so I wandered out into the backyard with Finnegan at my heels. Although the September air was cool, the bright sunshine cut through the chill, warming my face.
I approached the back fence and leaned over to check out the alley, but aside from a squirrel darting up a utility pole and some crows on the telephone wire, it was all clear. That helped to calm my nerves, as did Finnegan’s company. I knew he’d bark up a storm if a stranger like Kevin came near JT’s property.
Enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, I wandered over to the apple tree in the corner of the yard. I reached up and snatched a red apple off one of the lower branches, biting into it with a crunch. It was juicy, sweet, and delicious.
While munching on the apple I surveyed the yard. JT kept the grass trimmed and the garden tidy, so everything looked neat and well cared for. I’d planted some flowers back in the spring and they’d added lots of bright color to the yard for the past several months. Thoughts of what I could plant the following spring had already entered my mind, and I considered expanding beyond flowers. There was a nice patch in the corner of the yard that would be perfect for a small vegetable garden. Maybe I’d try my hand at growing veggies next year, if JT liked the idea. Carrots and onions, and possibly some squash and green beans.
With my mind wandering away from garden planning, I turned my thoughts to the gray boots I’d seen at the shoe store. I still wanted to buy them as much as I had the day I’d first seen them, and considering the week I was having, buying something nice seemed like an attractive idea.
Yes, I decided after another moment, I’d go for it. As soon as I had a chance, I’d go back to the store and splurge on the beautiful boots.
My spirits buoyed, I fished my phone out of my pocket and checked for messages. Mikayla had replied to a text I’d sent her that morning, letting me know that she’d pick me up at JT’s house later on and drive me to our evening rehearsal.
As I was about to return my phone to my pocket, it rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I tossed my apple core in the compost box and answered anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Midori. It’s Jordan.”
“Oh, hi, Jordan. What’s up?”
“I need to cancel tonight’s lesson,” he said. “I forgot that I’m supposed to go to a football game with my dad, and I don’t see him much these days.”
“I understand. That’s not a problem.”
After a slight hesitation, he said, “The police told me and my mom what my uncle did last night. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess. But things keep getting crazier and crazier.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, curious.
“You should have seen me and my mom at the will reading this morning. We were totally stunned.”
“Why?”
“It was nuts. Some things weren’t so crazy, like my grandfather left money to the symphony and five thousand dollars to Marjorie. He left the house and a bunch of money to my mom—which is a relief—and he set up trust funds for me and my uncle. But get this—he also left a pile of money to his other daughter.”
My eyebrows drew together as I absorbed that information. “I didn’t know you had an aunt on your mom’s side.” As far as I knew Andrea and Kevin were Major’s only children.
“I didn’t either. Nobody did. Except my grandfather, apparently.”
It took a second for the implication of what he’d said to register. “Wait—so she’s your mom’s half sister?”
“Yep.”
“And your family didn’t know about her until the will was read this morning?”
“Exactly.”
Whoa.
“My grandfather must have had an affair way back when,” Jordan continued. “My mom’s kind of upset about it.”
Understandably, I thought.
“So is this mystery daughter older or younger than your mom and uncle?”
“Younger. I guess my grandfather had an attack of guilt or something. I didn’t know he was capable of feeling guilty about anything.”
I ignored the harsh note that had entered Jordan’s voice with his last sentence and focused instead on his other words. “You mean because he left her a bunch of money after never mentioning her?”
“Yeah, and there was something in his will about how he was formally acknowledging that she was his daughter. Whatever.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Frances Barlow. The lawyer’s going to try to track her down.”
“That really must have been quite a shock, finding out about her.”
“You’re not kidding. Who knows what other secrets my grandfather was hiding.”
Indeed. And could one of his secrets have led to his murder? Or was the motive simply financial? If that was the case, maybe this newly revealed daughter deserved a place on the suspect list. Perhaps Major’s family hadn’t been aware of her, but if she’d been aware of her biological father and somehow knew that she stood to inherit, she could have done away with him. That theory was a bit of a stretch, considering that I had no evidence she knew who her biological father was, let alone that she had enough of a relationship with him to know he would leave her money upon his death. But it was still something to consider.
I wondered if Detective Salnikova and her colleagues had given it any thought. If they’d seen the will, which I guessed they probably had, they would know about Frances, but I didn’t know if they would view her as a viable suspect. Then again, I didn’t know if she really was a viable suspect. And there was still Dr. Beaufort to consider.
Between my thoughts of JT and the murder, my head was spinning. Nothing made much sense to me at the moment and all I wanted to do right then was retreat back into the comfort and safety of my music. I ended my conversation with Jordan and returned to my studio. For the remaining minutes before my next student arrived, I immersed myself in Rimsky-Korsakov’s music, pushing all my confusion aside, if only temporarily.
BY THE TIME Mikayla picked me up to drive me to the Abrams Center for our rehearsal, my mind, although not clear, was at least calmer. But Mikayla wasn’t about to let me avoid the disagreeable subjects that had plagued my thoughts lately.
As she merged into the evening traffic on Dunbar Street, she asked, “What’s going on? You said in your text message that you’d tell me later why you needed a ride tonight.”
“Mr. Major’s son attacked me last night.”
Mikayla’s brown eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
I touched the bruise on my cheek, glad I’d managed to conceal it with makeup. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Just a few scrapes and bruises. But it was scary and he’s still out there somewhere.”
“Wow. No wonder you don’t want to be walking to and from the bus stop in the dark. But why the heck would he attack you? How does he even know you?”
I started off by telling her that Major had died as a result of foul play rather than natural causes. Once she’d expressed surprise about that, I recounted some of what had taken place at Major’s house when I’d gone to teach Jordan’s lesson, leaving out any mention of Dr. Beaufort. I wanted to know more about the doctor and his motives before I told anyone other than the police about him.
As I finished telling the story about Kevin Major, Mikayla shook her head in disbelief.
“Crazy. I hope the police find him soon and lock him up. But I can give you a ride any time. You know that, right?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
Several raindrops hit the windshield and Mikayla flicked on the wipers. A few seconds ticked by before she glanced my way and said, “Not to dwell on unpleasant subjects, but did you do it?”
I didn’t need any clarification. I knew she was asking if I’d broken up with Aaron.
“Yes. Yesterday morning.”
“And?” she prompted as she made a left turn.
“And it was as bad as I expected. I felt like the worst person in the world. You should have seen the look on his face when he realized I was breaking up with him.” I cringed at the memory.
“But it had to be done. Now you can both move on.”
“I suppose.”
I tugged at my left ear, my thoughts straying to JT. Part of me wanted to tell Mikayla all about my recent revelation. It would be a relief to share my feelings with someone, and I knew she’d be happy for me. But I also knew she’d push me to tell JT, to find out if there was any chance that he felt the same way. I wasn’t sure if she’d understand my fear of ruining what he and I had.
In the end, that fear kept me quiet. It would be best for me to keep my feelings entirely to myself, safely locked away. I needed to find a way to go on as normal with JT, to ensure that nothing became awkward between us, and the best way to do that was to try and forget about the fact that I was in love with him. Maybe it wouldn’t be possible to forget, but if I could at least push that knowledge to the back of my mind, perhaps everything would be all right. I had to hope that was the case.
Fortunately, Mikayla didn’t catch on to the fact that something was bothering me and she went on to ask if I’d come up with any ideas about how we could help Bronwyn.
“Not yet,” I said, wishing my answer could have been different.
“We might not be able to help her, you know,” Mikayla said. “I don’t like to say that, but I think we should be prepared for that possibility.”
“I know.” I hated the words as they came out of my mouth, but I knew Mikayla was right. I hadn’t made any progress with finding the real thief or any sort of exculpatory evidence that would help Bronwyn. As much as I wanted to clear her name, I was no longer certain that I could.
Mikayla spent the rest of the drive chatting about her job as a high school orchestra teacher, and I appreciated the distraction from all my dispirited thoughts. When we reached the theater, I spent a few minutes talking to some of the other members of the orchestra before heading out of the musicians’ lounge with my violin, bow, and folder of music. As I headed down the carpeted hallway that led from the lounge toward the stage, I stopped short.
Elena was walking toward me, cellist Johnson Lau at her side. Johnson smiled at me as they passed, but Elena completely ignored me. I expected no different from her, and her lack of acknowledgment didn’t bother me in the least. I was far too focused on something else.
I turned around and watched them as they disappeared into the musicians’ lounge. My eyes hadn’t deceived me. There was no mistaking it—along with her designer jeans and expensive top, Elena was wearing the beautiful gray boots I’d admired at the shoe store.
Maybe they weren’t the exact same pair from the same store, but that didn’t matter. Even if the shop still had a pair in my size, there was no way I was going to hand over any sum of money to look similar to Elena. And not just because I didn’t like her. If she ever caught me wearing boots like hers, she’d probably think I was copying her, trying to be like her. She was one of the last people I wanted to be like, but just knowing she would think that was enough to send my stomach into an unpleasant twist.
Still rooted to the spot, I glared at the door to the musicians’ lounge. Trust Elena to ruin the one thing I was looking forward to that week. Although she’d had no clue that I wanted those boots, I still couldn’t help but direct all my disappointment and frustration at her. If anyone else had walked into the theater in those boots, it wouldn’t have been quite so bad. But of course it had to be Elena. That was the kind of week it was.
Letting out a quiet growl, I spun around and continued on down the hall, an invisible dark cloud hovering above my head. I’d barely made it half a dozen steps when a man’s voice called out my name. I paused and turned back. Dr. Daniel Beaufort hurried along the hall to catch up with me. I stiffened, remembering that the last glimpse I’d caught of him was as he’d escaped from Major’s study.
“Ms. Bishop, could I have a moment of your time?” Beaufort kept his voice low despite the fact that we were currently alone in the hallway.
“Sure,” I said, although I had serious reservations about talking to him, especially without anyone else in sight.
Did he know I was the one who had disturbed him in Major’s home, or had he fled before he’d had a chance to recognize me?
His next words assured me that it was the former.
“About the other night at Mr. Major’s home . . .” He paused and waited as two cellists emerged from the musicians’ lounge and made their way past us with their instruments. Once they were out of earshot he cleared his throat and continued. “I think there’s been an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from rising an inch. I wasn’t quite sure how he could characterize it as a misunderstanding. “I take it the police talked to you.”
He tugged at the left cuff of his dress shirt. “They did. A rather uncomfortable experience, I must say.”
“It wasn’t exactly comfortable for me to have to identify you as a thief,” I pointed out.
“Thief?” He almost choked on the word. “I assure you, I’m not a thief. As I said, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Okay, so maybe you didn’t take anything from Major’s house,” I said, although I didn’t know if he had or hadn’t, “but you were there without permission, going through his belongings. What was I supposed to think?”
Three more musicians made their way past us on their way to the stage.
Beaufort waited for them to pass and lowered his voice further. “If I’d been inside Mr. Major’s house without permission, it would only have been for the sake of the orchestra.”
“If? And for the sake of the orchestra?” I couldn’t make much sense out of his words, aside from the fact that I’d gathered he wasn’t admitting or outright denying that he’d broken into Major’s house.
“It’s rather a long story.”
“One which you told to the police, I hope.”
“Actually, that’s why I wanted to speak with you.”
Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of that.
“I’m sure you understand that I didn’t want to get charged with breaking and entering.”
Then you shouldn’t have committed the crime, I wanted to tell him. But I kept quiet and let him continue.
“So I denied that I was at Mr. Major’s residence.”
I stared at him. “But you were there.”
He loosened his blue silk tie a fraction, as if to allow himself to breathe more easily. “Perhaps you were mistaken in what you saw?”
All the pieces clicked into place and I finally understood what he was getting at. “You want me to recant my statement? To tell the police that I’m not so sure after all that it was you I saw?”
Relief wiped the strained expression from his face. “For the sake of the orchestra, of course. I knew you’d understand.”
But I don’t understand, I wanted to say.
He didn’t give me the chance. As Mikayla and several other musicians emerged from the lounge, Dr. Beaufort sent a quick nod my way and hurried off down the hallway. I stood there staring after him, completely befuddled.
“What was that about?” Mikayla asked when she reached my side, having noticed Beaufort’s departure.
I fell into step with her and we headed toward the stage, my thoughts in a crazy whirlwind. “I couldn’t tell you,” I said as we walked, “because I’m not so sure myself.”