Broom and Gloom Read online

  I believed him. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I was being naïve. But he seemed sincere, and I thought his words made sense.

  I pressed my lips together, hoping to properly measure my words. “Trace, I’ve been asking a lot of questions and talking to a lot of people. A couple of folks said that you actually led Georgia on.”

  As soon as the question left my lips, Wentworth showed back up and slid into the booth beside me.

  Trace pulled his head back in revulsion. “Absolutely not. Look, since you outright asked me, I have to tell you that she’s not even my type. I like brunettes with brown eyes. Georgia was a blue-eyed blonde. I like reserved girls who are kind of mysterious. Georgia was clingy and loud and brassy.”

  Wentworth nodded. “He’s telling the truth. Georgia wasn’t his type.”

  I traced a line of condensation on my glass with my finger. “The last time I can pinpoint that someone saw Georgia was two weeks ago to the day. After that, she seems to have disappeared. I’ve already talked to her landlord and coworker. Aside from that, she seems to have no life.”

  “That’s probably about right. Seriously, she followed the band everywhere,” Wentworth said.

  “Kind of like a Dead Head?” Was there any crazier group than the one who’d followed around the Grateful Dead? I think not.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did she ever give any indication of where she was from?”

  “I did ask her about that once. I was trying to make polite conversation, like I always do when people want to talk to us. It was a generic question, but I remember her answer was strange. She said she was from Georgia. She also said she’d run away when she was sixteen and hadn’t been back since then.”

  “Was she exaggerating or telling the truth?”

  “I never looked into it. But she had that lost look about her, you know? Like a person without roots.”

  “Sounds like a new song,” Wentworth said.

  The band finished playing and Trace looked over, making eye contact with the lead singer, who waved him toward the stage.

  “Excuse me for a minute.” Trace sauntered off in the distance to talk to the band.

  Wentworth smiled. “Trace is legendary around these here parts. He’s the American dream. He started with nothing and worked his way up to a record contract and radio hit.”

  “It’s good to see someone who has everything going for them.”

  Wentworth leaned toward me. “So, what do you think happened to Dud?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t help but think that the cases are connected.”

  “You think Georgia abducted Skye and killed Dud?”

  I nibbled on my lip for a moment. “I think there’s a link there. I’m just not sure what the link is.”

  “Between you and me, can I tell you something?”

  Like I’d say no. “I guess.”

  He leaned closer, his voice just above a whisper. “I heard that there was bad blood between Dud and Jono.”

  “Really?” It was news to me. Very interesting news.

  Wentworth nodded. “It’s true. Dud hasn’t been a part of the band for that long. Not even a year. You heard about our first drummer, right?”

  “He died.”

  He nodded. “Committed suicide. Sad stuff. Anyway, when Jono came on board, he really wanted us to hire this other guy, but Trace wasn’t willing to let Dud go. He’d worked with him in the past and really liked him. Jono was pretty mad.”

  “You think he was mad enough to kill Dud?”

  Wentworth stared at me, and I knew the answer even though he hadn’t said a word.

  It seemed like a lame reason for murder, but people had killed for far less compelling motivations.

  “I don’t like to say anything about it in front of Trace. He gets a little worked up over it all. Jono wants us to keep everything even for Trace.”

  “Why?” As the waitress set some onion rings on the table, I couldn’t help but snitch one. I wasn’t even hungry, but they were so hard to resist.

  “You know how us creative types are. We’re either on top of the world or in the depths of despair. Trace swings between those two easily. The last thing we need for this part of the tour—the launching of our career—is for Trace to not want to get out of bed. It’s happened before.”

  I soaked in the new information. Before I could ask any more questions, Trace reappeared. So did the food.

  As the guys dug in, I let my questions simmer. When the time was right, if I needed to address them, I would.

  My gaze traveled across the restaurant, and I spotted a familiar face. Seeing this person here couldn’t be a coincidence. I had to go find out more information.

  CHAPTER 20

  “If you’ll both excuse me a minute while you eat,” I murmured. “I see someone I recognize across the room.”

  Trace and Wentworth were already involved in a deep conversation about sound equipment, so I eased out of the booth and walked to the other side of the restaurant.

  I almost hadn’t spotted him, but there in the shadows, I’d caught a glimpse of good old Lenny. Before he could object, I slid into the booth across from him. There was a glass in front of him, filled with beer, if I had to guess. He wore a black T-shirt, and his red eyes made him seem like he was struggling and tired and had had too much to drink.

  His eyes widened as he tried to place me. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m working for Trace Ryan, investigating some strange incidents that have been occurring lately.”

  His face fell. “What’s that have to do with me?”

  I laced my fingers together on the table, the picture of cool, calm, and in control. “I understand you were his manager?”

  He picked at the paper napkin in his hands, every few seconds his gaze sweeping to the band playing in the corner. “That’s no secret. Half of the people in this room could have told you that.”

  “I heard you were devastated when he fired you.”

  His lips quirked up in aggravation. “Devastated would be a strong word. I was surprised. Taken off guard. Shocked. We were a team for five years, and I’d slaved endless hours to see that Trace succeeded. I thought we had more than a business relationship. I thought we were family. Still, devastated would be overstating it.”

  I stared at him, trying to detect any tics, anything that would be a clue as to if he was telling the truth or not. He overall seemed nervous and on edge, so it was hard to tell. “You’ve heard about everything going on with Trace?”

  “You mean, his record contract and yearlong tour, complete with a bus?”

  “That, and the death of his drummer.”

  He nodded, some of the contempt disappearing in favor of sympathy. He swept the remnants of his napkin into his hand and made a pile on the table. “Of course I heard. The world of country music is smaller than you might think it is. We’re all mourning Dud. The police have any idea who killed him yet?”

  “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

  He let out a quick breath. “Me? I have no idea. Maybe you should talk to Jono.” He said the man’s name like it was a bad word.

  “Why would Jono know?”

  “Apparently, the man walks on water. Maybe he reads minds, too.”

  I ignored the jab. “What do you know about him?”

  If there was anyone who’d be willing to air Jono’s dirty laundry, it would be Lenny. I didn’t like alcohol, but sometimes having too many drinks could help things to work in my favor. It gave some people loose lips.

  “Jono is a shark. He’ll do anything to get ahead. And he’s a passive-aggressive control freak.” He paused suddenly and tilted his head. “Anything else?”

  “You know anyone who had any beefs with Dud?”

  He offered a half shrug. “I heard he and Jono were arguing.”

  I knew I had to take anything he said with the clichéd “grain of salt.” The man obviously had a grudge. “Oh, really? About what?”

  “
Between you and me, Jono promised another drummer from an old band he used to manage a spot on Trace’s tour.”

  Interesting. He was telling me the same thing that Wentworth just had. I wanted to hear his version of it, though. “How do you know that?”

  A smile started to curl the corner of his lips. “I get around.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Why should I?” He raised an eyebrow before downing the last of his drink and setting it on the table with a clunk.

  “Because otherwise you’ll remain at the top of my suspect list.”

  His mouth dropped open and he pointed to himself. “I’m on your suspect list? Me? Lenny Williamson? That’s preposterous.”

  “You were at the band’s release party—yet no one knew you were going to be there. I find that suspicious. Maybe you were trying to sabotage something. Maybe you were the reason they were having all those technical glitches. I heard you were a master sound tech.” I actually hadn’t heard that at all, but I took a chance on it.

  He pointed to himself again. “I am one of the best sound techs around. Anyone would tell you that. But I did not sabotage anything. That’s not my MO. If I have a grievance with someone, I tell them to their face.”

  “Then why were you there at the release party?”

  He shrugged and stared off into space for a minute. “What can I say? I was curious. I felt like the guys were my friends. We’d been together for a long time. I wanted to hear how they sounded. Feel the reaction of the crowds. Find out what had changed.”

  “Or you wanted to see them fail? Isn’t that the ultimate revenge?”

  “Look, I just signed with a new band. I think they’re going to skyrocket, much more than Trace Ryan. He’s only going to be a flash in the pan. That’s what Jono does. He’s good at quick, short-lived successes. I want to build long-term careers.”

  “You don’t sound like you think highly of him.”

  He leaned close. “Here’s the other side of the story: he tried to buy Dud off in exchange for him leaving the band.”

  “Why would he do that?” Certainly I hadn’t heard him correctly. The other stuff, I could believe. But buying him off? That was a big deal.

  “He promised the other guy that he was going to get the spot. But Trace wouldn’t budge. He insisted on Dud. Trace doesn’t like too much change. He likes being around people he can depend on. There wasn’t a chance he’d fire Dud for Jono’s guy.”

  “But you’re making it sound like Jono was determined?”

  “He’s very manipulative. He likes to get his way. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “He likes to get his way enough to murder someone?”

  Lenny’s eyes lit. “I didn’t say that, but I think it’s a possibility worth exploring.”

  ***

  I went back to the table, still chewing on what Lenny had said. Could Jono be guilty? It seemed like a long shot that he would have anything to do with this. But, to stay objective, I had to consider that someone other than Georgia may have abducted Skye and someone else may have killed Dud.

  Where did that leave me now?

  Georgia was the most obvious suspect, at least when it came to Skye’s disappearance. I supposed there was always the chance that maybe she’d disappeared too, that maybe she’d been the victim of foul play. It was a possibility worth considering.

  Then there was Jono. Could he really be that manipulative?

  How about Lenny? He was nursing a grudge. Was it worth killing over, though?

  Quinton, the security guard, seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what if there was something he wasn’t telling me?

  So many possibilities raced around in my mind that my head started to spin.

  “Everything okay?” Trace asked.

  I nodded. “Just fine. Thanks.”

  The singer onstage began talking into the microphone. “I have a good friend I’d like to call up onstage right now. He started with me in this crazy business, and I’m proud to say now that he’s landed himself a contract. He’ll be leaving on tour soon. Would you welcome Trace Ryan?”

  Trace grinned and stood, waving to the crowds around him like a true showman. He hopped onstage, shook hands with his friend, and then strapped a guitar on.

  “I didn’t come up here trying to steal the show, but I do want to thank my friend Jim—Slim Jim, as I always called him—for inviting me up.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “I was hoping to play you one of the first little ditties I ever wrote. It’s called ‘Love Along the Way.’”

  He strummed the guitar. I sat back and listened as he crooned about a girl and boy who’d loved each other since they were eight. They grew up and got married, faced hard times, and loved each other through it all.

  Something about the lyrics brought tears to my eyes. I wanted a love like the one Trace sang about. I could try to deny it as much as I wanted, but deep inside, I wanted to share my life with someone.

  Riley. I wanted that someone to be Riley. I’d been willing to marry the man, to give up everything for him.

  But I had to be okay with whatever the future held. My plan for my life didn’t always equate to being God’s plan for my life. I was willing to take God’s hand and let Him lead me into the unknown.

  “You okay there?” Wentworth asked.

  I wiped away a stray tear. “Yeah, I’m going to be just fine.”

  He tilted his head. “You sure about that?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. I only see a few feet in front of me. God can see the big picture. I need to hold on to that knowledge, even when it doesn’t feel true, even when I desperately want to take things into my own hands.”

  “What happens when you leave here?”

  “I’m interviewing for a new job, applying to get my master’s, and learning to roll with the punches.” Now that I thought about it, it couldn’t be a coincidence that punches usually hurt.

  “Who’s the guy?” Wentworth asked.

  “What guy?”

  He gave me a knowing look. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re in love with someone.”

  My lips parted. “Really? Am I that transparent?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, you are. He’s a lucky guy.”

  If he only knew. I wasn’t going to get into it now, though.

  A few minutes later, I heard Trace on the stage.

  “. . . when I think about all the sacrifices I’ve made to get to where I am today, I realize it’s all worth it. Whether I’m playing in front of a crowd of one hundred or thousands, the music is what’s important. That’s what’s in my heart. Thank you for letting me share with you this evening.”

  The crowd roared with applause as he took the guitar off and came back to the table.

  “You’ve got a God-given talent,” I told him.

  He grinned and tugged at his hat. “Why, thank you, Gabby. It doesn’t feel right playing without Taylor, though.”

  “Taylor?” Someone else I hadn’t heard about?

  “My guitar,” Trace said.

  “He’s in love with his guitar, that’s what I keep telling him,” Wentworth joked. “I mean, he named it, for goodness’ sakes.”

  “My granddad gave it to me. What can I say? He peddled it off someone when he was working at a truck stop. When I developed an interest in music, he decided the guitar should be mine. It’s what I learned to play on.”

  “Well, regardless of the guitar you’re using, you tell stories with your words. And you keep managing to choke me up. Not a lot of people can do that.” I drew in a deep breath, feeling like things had turned too serious and it was all my fault. “So . . . what’s going on tomorrow with you guys?”

  “We’re actually shooting part of a music video,” Trace said. “Should be fun. We’ll be in OKC, not terribly far from you.”

  “Exciting.”

  “On Friday, some of us are heading out to my ranch,” Wentworth said. “We’re going to cut loose one last time before t
he tour. You should come.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, really. We’ll have horseback riding and maybe a bonfire.”

  “I’ll tell you what. If I find either Skye or Georgia before that, I’ll come. If not, I’m going to keep investigating until the very end.”

  “A determined woman. Who doesn’t love that?” Wentworth asked.

  He grinned.

  CHAPTER 21

  I emerged from my hotel room the next morning and walked into the atrium. To my surprise, I saw Lenny standing by the bar, staring right at me. Before I could approach him, Wentworth walked toward me from the front desk. Quinton was by his side.

  What in the world was going on?

  As I turned, I saw Trace standing on top of the grand piano and singing. Even stranger, Jono played the drums, and Georgia and Skye sang backup.

  Suddenly, I jerked my head up.

  What in the world?

  I blinked a couple of times, and then realized there was a small puddle of drool on my arm. Gross.

  I was in class. Everyone was leaving. Except me.

  Had I really fallen asleep? It was bad enough that I’d gotten here late. Even worse that the teacher had a monotone voice. But how many people had seen me snoozing?

  One thing was for sure—I wasn’t cut out to live the life of a musician. Up all night, sleeping during the day. That schedule wasn’t for me.

  I hadn’t gotten back last night until nearly two. All night, as I’d tried to sleep, I’d turned over thoughts about the conversation I’d had with Wentworth. More facts kept coming to light, but I had to figure out what to make of them.

  I grabbed my notebook and shoved it into my bag. Then I stood, taking heavy steps toward my next session.

  I noticed some strange looks as I stepped out into the hallway. They must have seen me snoozing in class. Not very professional on my end, but I couldn’t do anything about it now.

  Someone inched up beside me. “What happened to you?”