Band Room Bash Read Online Free Page B

worry about you. Especially now that you’re expecting. Last time was plenty for me. I’m sure Max would agree.”
    “Oh, I get it.” I gripped my pen tighter. “You’re threatening to tell Max that I was sitting here making notes. And you hope he’ll keep me under control and make me stop.”
    “Got it in one.” Detective Scott pulled a notebook from his pocket.
    His attitude was reminiscent of the way he’d acted in the past. So was my immediate annoyance with him. “Your reaction must mean that this was a murder,” I said.
    He eyed me. “We don’t know anything yet.”
    “Sure. As usual. And you really won’t know anything until the case is solved, at which time you’ll tell me everything I need to know.” I looked at my list, fighting a growing sense of irritation.
    His breath hissed through his teeth. “Trish, would you please pay attention and answer my questions?”
    “Of course.” I laid the pen and paper on my knees and folded my hands on my stomach. “I’m listening.”
    The nerve at the corner of his eye continued to twitch. “Why do I feel like you’re just tolerating me?”
    I shrugged.
    He tapped his pen on his notebook. “Were you alone when you found Georgia?”
    “No. Tommy was with me.”
    He jotted a note. “Did you and Tommy arrive together?”
    I frowned. “No, he was already here.”
    The detective’s eyes narrowed, and he bounced his pen on his leg. Tap, tap, tap. “Was he with you when you discovered Georgia?”
    “Yes. . .well.” I met his gaze. “He got to the band room right after I did, but he noticed her first.”
    “I want to know everything you saw from the moment you pulled into the school parking lot.”
    I took a deep breath, pointedly picked up my pen, lifted the paper, and shook it for emphasis. I heard him sigh as I began to read. He interrupted me when I mentioned Connie.
    “Connie who?” he asked.
    “Gilbert. She does the costumes for the play. I spoke to her in Georgia’s classroom before I went to the band room.”
    He made a note. “All right. Proceed.”
    He didn’t interrupt me again, and when I finished, I put the paper down and stared at him.
    “Thank you,” he said as he jotted down notes. He glanced up at me. “Now, tell me again exactly what you saw when you were walking up to the victim. You skipped that part.”
    I swallowed. I didn’t want to talk about that. I didn’t want to remember Georgia Winters’ dead body.
    “I’m sorry, Trish,” he said in a softer tone. “This is very difficult for you, I know. I can arrange for you to talk to a victim advocate if you’d like.”
    “No!”
    He looked startled, but I didn’t want to talk to her. I’d met her once. She was very sweet, with one of those soft voices pitched just right to be soothing. Anyone who acted like that couldn’t possibly be real, and that made me suspicious.
    “No, thanks,” I said with less emphasis. “I’ll be fine.” I told him exactly what I’d seen in the band room. “My biggest question is how whoever murdered her—if she was murdered—got out of the band room. There was a chair behind the door to the room, you know.”
    He asked me to describe that to him again, which I did. “I didn’t even look at the door in the instrument storage room,” I said, “but you said it was locked, right?”
    “Is that all?” Of course he didn’t answer me, just tapped his pen hard on his leg.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Aren’t I always sure?” I slapped the paper on my lap, irritated at him again.
    “Unfortunately.”
    But before I could ask him what, exactly, that meant, I heard the library door open. I turned and saw Tommy holding it for the pretty teenage girl he’d been talking to in the hall. Now I remembered where I’d seen her face. From a photo in Detective Scott’s office.
    “Hey, Daddy,” she said. “You remember my car is in the shop?”
    Tommy looked at me then at Detective Scott, who wasn’t smiling.
    “I