“Me, neither.”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. We’re going to have to seal off that room, and probably the ones around it, too. Maybe they’ll have some cancellations or something. I’ll talk to the manager.”
Derrick spoke up. “What happened, exactly?” He directed his question to Matt, but Liz answered.
“There was a dead body in our room when we checked in.” She crossed her arms, her mouth a hard line. “Jazzy found it.”
Ah. That had to be awful. No wonder she looked shaken up. “Any idea how the guy died? The desk clerk said something about a murder.”
Matt nodded. “No doubt about that. Looked to me like he was strangled. And you’ll never believe who it was, either.”
The muscles in Derrick’s stomach knotted. “Somebody I know?”
The deputy nodded. “Everybody knows him. It was Josh Kirkland.”
Derrick gave a low whistle. Kirkland was a DJ for the local country radio station, something of a celebrity in town, so of course he’d met the guy. But he didn’t know him well. Still…“Right before the festival. Man, that’s going to come as a shock to a lot of people.”
“You ain’t kidding.”
Derrick turned to the three musicians. “If the manager doesn’t have a place for you to stay, you’re welcome to my apartment. It’s not very big, and there’s only one bed, but it might be the best you can hope for this weekend. I can stay at my mom’s for the night.”
Jazzy looked up at him, a smile hovering at the edges of her mouth. “That’s a very nice offer. Thank you.”
He would give up a lot more than his apartment to see that smile break free. Looking down into her eyes, he cleared his throat. “No problem.”
THREE
Jazzy and her friends left the obstinate deputy outside the church in his cruiser and trooped inside single-file behind Derrick. The wedding coordinator stood at the front of the sanctuary going over the order of events for a group seated in the first few pews. Her voice echoed off the arched ceiling and the tall, thick-paned windows that lined both sides. How did the woman have the nerve to disturb the reverent stillness of the place? Jazzy found herself tiptoeing up the center aisle.
“Sorry we’re late.” Derrick directed his apology to the coordinator.
A young woman rose from the front row and approached him. She threw her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to do so. “Where have you been? You know I can’t do this without my big brother.”
The bride. Clear family resemblance. Same sandy blond hair, same oval face. The girl even smiled like her brother, wide and with lots of white teeth in evidence.
A young man, presumably the groom, got up and followed her into the aisle. “I wondered if you got caught up in the mess at the hotel. Dad got a call and ran out of here about twenty minutes ago, saying someone had been killed over there.”
“Yeah. In fact, your musicians found the body. That’s why we’re late.”
Gasps reverberated around the sanctuary, and a blush began to tingle in Jazzy’s cheeks. Was everyone staring at her?
The bride rushed forward to grab her free hand. “I’m Chelsea Rogers, and this is my fiancé, Quinn Maguire. I’m so sorry! How awful for you, and after you drove all this way to play at our wedding.”
Jazzy managed a smile and squeezed her hand before releasing it.
“Quinn’s father is the sheriff here,” Derrick explained, “so that’s why they called him. I’m sure you’ll be talking with Sheriff Maguire before this thing is over.”
“Terrific,” mumbled Liz. She stood behind Jazzy, both hands full with her cello case and a music bag. Liz’s expression had assumed its habitual sulk, but Jazzy detected strain in the muscles around her friend’s mouth.
She’s been affected by the ordeal more than she’s letting on.
And no wonder. Jazzy suppressed a shudder as an image of the dead man loomed in her mind. Would that sight ever cease to haunt her?
The wedding coordinator quick-stepped down the aisle. “I hate to seem callous, but we’re a little pressed for time. I’ve got to leave in forty-five minutes.”
Thankful to have something besides a corpse to focus on, Jazzy nodded. “Just show us where you want us, and we can be ready in a few minutes.”
“Oh, good. Come right up here. I’m Emily, by the way.”
Jazzy followed her to a corner of the dais, Caitlin and Liz trailing behind. Three chairs had already been set in front of a grand piano which, judging by its off-centered location, had been pushed back to make room for them.
Emily outlined her instructions as they set down their instrument cases. “From here you should be able to see me in the narthex. I’ll signal for you to begin playing at five-thirty as the guests are being seated. Then, when we’re ready to begin the ceremony, I’ll give you a nod.” She peered at the three of them in turn. “You’ve played weddings before, I hope?”
Jazzy nodded. “Quite a few.”
Relief brought a smile to her face. “Oh, good. What piece did you and Chelsea settle on for the processional?”
“She told me to do whatever we wanted,” Jazzy replied. “We selected a Handel aria.”
Emily grinned. “That will be perfect. Why don’t you go ahead and get tuned or whatever you need to do, and we’ll be ready in a minute.”
She returned to the wedding party, and Caitlin arranged their chairs in the semicircle they preferred while Liz set her cello case on the floor and set up her music stand.
As Jazzy settled in her chair, the fine hair at the base of her skull prickled. Creepy. She almost felt like someone was watching her.
Don’t be silly. A dozen people might be watching. They’re all sitting in pews, staring this way.
She cast a quick backward glance, but saw nothing except the empty choir loft. Rubbing the tickle away, she let her gaze sweep the sanctuary. Every eye seemed fixed on Emily as the wedding party listened attentively to her instructions about the order of the bridesmaids. Nobody was watching Jazzy, certainly not with a sinister stare.
Sinister?
Where had that come from? Of course nobody was glaring at her with evil intent. Why would they? It was just the old demons raising their heads to torment her.
Still, her muscles remained rigid. As she opened her case and lifted her instrument from the velvet lining, she couldn’t help peering at the wedding party, trying to catch one of them glaring at her.
“Are you okay, Jazzy?”
She looked around to find Caitlin watching her closely as she fit the final section of her flute in place.
“I’m
