Murder for Choir by Joelle Charbonneau

“We’re discussing whether Eric Metz should be allowed to participate today.”
    “I thought we settled this discussion yesterday.”
    “We did,” Felicia said in dramatic whisper. “Not everyone agrees with us.”
    The directors all started talking at once. It was hard to keep track of what each of them said, but the message was clear. They were determined. Eric had to go.
    “Hey,” I yelled. One of the perks of being a professionallytrained opera singer is the ability to project my voice. When I want to, I can be very loud. Today, I had serious motivation to scream like a banshee. I firmly believed Eric was innocent. He was also the key to my success as a director. He was going to stay.
    The directors all turned toward me, and I lowered my voice to a more reasonable level. “The police haven’t arrested Eric because he’s not the only suspect in this case. I’ve talked to the lead detective, and he’s pursing several other suspects.”
    “Really?” Felicia’s eyes widened. “Do you know who?”
    Casper. The Ghost of Christmas Past. The Loch Ness Monster.
    I smiled. “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask him.” Felicia frowned. The rest of the directors looked confused. “Look, Greg was alone when he was murdered. Don’t you think everyone will be safe if we stay in one large group?”
    They all looked at one another. When no one objected, Larry clapped his hands together and said, “Okay. Since today is only going to be two hours, I suggest we get to work.”
    Larry went over to break the good news to Eric and company. The rest of the directors went to find their students, leaving me alone with Felicia.
    She grabbed my arm and whispered, “Who are the police investigating? It’s Larry, isn’t it? He’s been acting really strange the past two days. Almost as if he’s in a fog. I bet the guilt is eating him alive.”
    Felicia looked like most people I see reading the National Enquirer , equal parts delighted and horrified. I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know who the police are looking at. Detective Kaiser said he couldn’t share the details of his investigation.” Felicia looked skeptical, and I almost said, “Crossmy heart and hope to die.” Being back in high school made me want to regress.
    Thank goodness a director yelled over the microphone for the kids to take the floor before Felicia could grill me any further. I dumped my bag on one of the bleachers as music began to pump through the loudspeaker. It was time to sing and dance.
    A little over an hour later, the kids had executed hundreds of jazz squares to hits like “Don’t Stop Believin’,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” and “Jump, Jive an’ Wail” while the parents sitting in the stands cheered them on. I’d liked those songs well enough before camp started this week. If I never heard them again after this, I wouldn’t be sorry.
    Still sweating and panting, the kids were asked to take a seat in the stands so we could talk to them about what had happened to Mr. Lucas. This was supposed to provide “closure.” It also lent itself to bored expressions and a lot of texting. Both had nothing to do with the subject matter and more with the presentation. The director doing the talking made murder as exciting as watching paint dry. A neat trick.
    When the guy was done, the kids milled around the field house saying their good-byes before heading for the door. I walked over to the far left corner, where Eric was changing his shoes.
    “How are you holding up?”
    Eric looked up at me and smiled. “Better than the last time you saw me.”
    Cheesy show choir tunes beat jail any day.
    “Did your parents come home?”
    “They got into town this morning. Detective Kaiser said I have to be at the station this afternoon ready to talk.” He tucked his thumbs into his jeans pockets and struck anuncaring pose. Too bad his eyes gave him away. My heart went out to him. The kid was terrified.
    “It sucks you have to go