Music to Die For by Radine Trees Nehring Page A

trouble ’tween Teals and Masons. That goes years back, so I bet your folks was from here onc’t upon a time. Beats me how else you’d-a figured out the Masons would be looked at purty close if anything happened to a Teal—how we’d need someone to speak fer us ’n’ say where we was. Even Tracy. Mebbe especially Tracy. Teals treat her like she’s some kinda poison since she married my Chase. She had to run off to marry him. That tuk backbone. She mebbe seems young, but she’s still got backbone, ’n’ don’t you fergit it.”
    So, Carrie thought, there really are bad feelings between Tracy’s family and the Masons, but that still shouldn’t mean murder, not these days.
    As if she’d picked up Carrie’s thoughts, Brigid continued, “Farel now...well, I don’t hold with killin’. He thought like a Teal, though, not like Tracy.” She looked over the back of the seat at her daughter-in-law. “Poor little flower, she just give out. They’s limits to what anyone can take. Poor, purty little flower.”
    Chase broke in. “Farel was trouble, Momma. Nothin’ but trouble for us, for himself...for anyone.”
    Carrie thought she felt Tracy twitch, but decided it had been her imagination, or the bounce of the van over a bump in the road.
    Chase continued, “And he started this whole mess when he took Dulcey, don’t forget.”
    His voice faded into silence as they passed the drive to the administration building and restaurant. It was obvious the sheriff had arrived. There were flashing lights in the parking lot, all the security lights were now on, and a crowd of people stood clustered around the gate to the craft grounds.
    “Well, that’s that,” said Brigid as they continued on the road to the motel units. “Carrie, call my house tomorrow morning. I’m in the phone book, B. E. Mason. We’ll make plans then. I hope Chase ’n’ Tracy kin get some good rest, since I reckon we won’t hear nothin’ from those skunks got Dulcey ’til tomorrow night. Now, will you be all right? Sorry I can’t give you some of my herb tea.”
    “Oh, I’ll be fine,” Carrie said as Chase stopped the van.
    Brigid Mason got out and came around to take Carrie’s place in the back seat. Tracy stirred as Carrie lifted her head to slide out, but she didn’t open her eyes. Brigid slipped carefully under Carrie’s hands until, once more, the young woman lay safely cradled in a lap.
    “Goodnight then,” Carrie said. “I’ll call tomorrow morning. And, for now, I’ll respect your wish to be silent about the kidnapping, but if the sheriff...”
    “We’d best go on,” said Chase, interrupting her. “Most folks here don’t know what we drive, but there’s a few that might. We wanta get out of sight.”
    The door shut in her face, and the van sped toward the main road.
    As soon as she was in her room, Carrie looked at the clock. She’d lost all track of time and had forgotten to look at her watch when they had the lights on at Farel’s. Was it only half past midnight? It seemed like it must be near morning.
    She kicked off the hated shoes and stuck her aching feet into slippers. Now, one more thing to do before a hot shower and bed. She picked up the phone, punched in a number, and waited to hear the low rumble of a familiar voice.
    “Henry, I am sorry to wake you, but we have big difficulties here, and I need to ask a couple of favors...”
    Carrie decided to skip the shower. She could manage no more than a quick face washing, and it wasn’t until she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror that she realized her face looked like she’d fallen head-first into a bed of brambles. What on earth would Henry say when he saw her this time? Here she was again—scraped, bruised, and muddy. And, once again, she was smack dab in the middle of murder!
    She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Well, she could wash, but as for the rest, Henry would just have to get used to it.
    She took off her filthy clothes and let them