Free Band Room Bash by Candice Speare Prentice

from the pencil holder, and began sawing at her nails. “No one is surprised someone bopped that woman. She’s got mean as a snake lately. I figure it’s probably early menopause. She should have gotten some help. Got some herbs. You know, like black cobash?”
    “I think that’s black cohash.”
    Shirl waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. You do realize that if more people used herbs, the drug companies would have to start charging less for their pills.”
    “Uh-huh.” I wondered what she’d been reading.
    “It’s true,” Shirl said. “That new pharmacist in town sells all sorts of natural stuff. You’d think he’d be afraid of losing money, but he’s always giving out advice. And that Georgia needed some kind of help. You do know she threatened to fail Jason.”
    I shook my head. “I didn’t—”
    “Jason is the star quarterback on the Four Oaks High School football team. He fails? He’s off the team. He goes? The season goes. That happens? Coach Smith probably loses his position.”
    I snorted. “Well, how stupid is that? Firing a coach because a kid fails. After all, it’s just a game—”
    Oops. Shirl tapped the nail file against her palm and stared at me as if I’d just uttered blasphemy. “Our team hasn’t had a losing season in five years,” she said icily.
    Our team. Like high school football was the be-all, end-all of life. I hadn’t understood that level of enthusiasm when I was in high school. Now that I’m an adult, I understand it even less. But this did give the coach a good reason to be a suspect.
    A car pulled up in the parking lot. Shirl stared over the counter and through the window. My gaze followed hers.
    “That’s Connie, the costume lady,” she told me.
    I didn’t bother to remind her that I knew Connie, too, and could easily recognize her from fifteen feet away.
    Shirl plunked the nail file back into the pencil holder and thumbed through some paperwork on her desk. “She called me yesterday and said you said I should hold a unit for her. She just bought a whole slew of new costumes.” She picked up the lease she’d already printed out and put it and a pen on the counter. “You know she’s related to Georgia, don’t you? Cousin. She left town right after high school. I don’t know what happened, but she moved back here not so long ago.”
    Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I realized I did know that. That made me even more curious to know why she and Georgia had been fighting.
    The bell over the door rang when Connie walked in. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
    “I was surprised you came out today,” Shirl said. “I wouldn’t set foot out my front door for days if one of my relatives was murdered.”
    Connie’s face blanched.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said with double meaning. Even though Connie’s name was on my suspect list, I was sorry for her loss. And for Shirl’s lack of tact.
    “Thank you.” Connie sniffled. “I’m sure it was difficult for you. . .finding her.”
    “Yes, very.” I drew in a breath, trying not to remember Georgia on the floor. “Were you at the school when the police arrived?”
    “No.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I left right after I talked with you.”
    “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t walk down to the band room with Trish,” Shirl said. “I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to find a relative bludgeoned to death.”
    If it were possible, Connie’s face became whiter.
    “Did the police bang on your door and tell you she died?” As usual, Shirl was a bull in a china shop.
    Connie sniffled again. “Yes. They went out to the farm. It was horrible. Granny Nettie was there. It was the worst way she could have heard about it, although I’m not sure how much she really understood.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said again.
    “Thank you.” She pulled her checkbook from her purse. “Well, work helps me cope. Besides, I have to get all this stuff into storage. I’m going to be really busy now.”
    “Oh?”