Free The Angel Singers by Dorien Grey Page A

the fact that, though these sectionals were not mandatory, Jonathan had never missed a single one. They were usually held on Saturday afternoons and, therefore, made our already tight-scheduled Saturdays even more so.
    “But no other major incidents, other than the Tony and Jerry thing?” I asked.
    “No, nothing really major. But Grant was damned lucky Jerry didn’t get to him that night.”
    “You think there would have been a real fight?”
    “I don’t think it would have qualified as a fight as much as a beating. Not to paint Jerry in a bad light, but I know he has a really short fuse and a mean temper. I’m pretty sure he hit Tony a couple times while they were together, though Tony would never say so. I always had the impression I sure wouldn’t want to mess with him.”
    I duly filed that bit of information away in my mental check-on file.
    We drank our coffee in silence for a minute, then I said, “So, tell me—Jerry’s temper aside, do you think Grant might have gotten anyone else from the chorus angry enough to kill him?”
    He looked at me, then shrugged. “I’d hope not,” he said. “I’m sure a lot of the guys he stepped on thought about it, but if everybody killed everyone they ever thought of killing, there wouldn’t be many people left in the world. But if Grant was as big a shit in his life outside the chorus as he was in it, I’d say the field was wide open.”
    I’d thought the same thing, but didn’t want to. Working with a pool of at least fifty potential suspects was more than enough. Still, I’d have a better idea when I had a chance to talk with Crandall Booth.
    *
    After we finished our coffee, we moved into the living room to await Jonathan’s and Joshua’s return from church. As we left the kitchen, Eric excused himself to go to the bathroom, and I went over and sat on the couch. I was a little surprised that, when he came out of the bathroom, rather than taking one of the chairs across from me, he sat down directly beside me on the couch. I had a quick mental flash of Jonathan’s caution that Eric was “out to get me,” then as quickly dismissed it.
    I’d tried, in the course of talking with him, to find out a little more about his background. He’d mentioned when he’d come over the first time that he’d been orphaned at fourteen, and I now learned he’d then gone to live with his maternal grandmother until she died when he was a freshman in college. He’d been totally on his own since then. He’d had one relationship shortly after he got out of college, but it had ended badly; and he claimed he’d determined not to have another—a position I suspected would go quickly out the window if the right guy appeared. I gathered he had the usual number of friends, though he didn’t mention any one as being especially close. His main focus in life seemed to be the chorus.
    “I understand you and Roger go back a long way,” I said, and he nodded.
    “Since I was a kid,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
    “He seems to think you’re a cornerstone of the chorus,” I added, hoping to elicit a bit more information on their relationship.
    He smiled. “That’s nice of him to say. I do what I can.”
    “Well, knowing how much Jonathan enjoys being in the chorus, I think I can understand how you must feel about it. I envy you both for having something outside your workday lives you can relate so strongly to.”
    I got the distinct impression that I was being very subtly stonewalled, though I hadn’t a clue as to why.
    *
    The two Js returned shortly after noon, effectively ending my conversation with Eric. I think I’d expected to get more out of him than I did, but he had given me some things to think about, and whether intentionally or not, it raised a bunch of questions I wanted to take up with Booth. How much did he know about Grant’s little games with other chorus members, and what did he think of them? Might there have been tension between them? Might Booth be the