Dead Ringer Read online

  JT stood in the doorway to the living room, watching me. “You look like you could use some cheering up.”

  I glanced down at my right hand. “Stupid burn. It hurts to use it.” I sounded as morose as I felt.

  He crossed the room to join me. I scootched over so he could sit next to me on the piano bench.

  He nudged me with his shoulder. “I think you need a little ragtime.” He put his hands to the keys and played the introduction to Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer.”

  When he reached the end of the introduction, he dropped his left hand off the keys and nudged me with his shoulder again.

  A hint of a grin tugged at my mouth. I lifted my left hand and we played together, JT handling the melody and me the bass. It didn’t take long for me to get into the lively two-­step. With each note, my spirits rose and my smile grew bigger. All thoughts of murder, arson, and breaking and entering retreated to the back of my mind, and I lived only in the present, in the music.

  Until JT’s phone rang.

  I broke off playing first. Once I stopped, he did too. He fished his phone out of the pocket of his jeans.

  I caught sight of the display. “Shauna?”

  The name showed on the screen along with a picture of a pretty, smiling brunette. I knew most of JT’s friends and a lot of his colleagues. I’d never heard him mention a Shauna.

  “I met her a ­couple weeks ago,” JT explained as his phone stopped ringing.

  “You could have answered it,” I said. “Call her back, if you want. I don’t mind.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.” I forced a grin and nudged him with my shoulder as he’d done to me. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

  I slid off the bench and whistled for Finnegan. He came running from the back of the house.

  “Come on, Finn. Let’s go upstairs for a bit.”

  He raced up the stairs ahead of me, and I followed at a more sedate pace. JT’s voice floated up toward me through the stairwell as he greeted the mysterious Shauna over the phone. I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was happy to talk to her. As his best friend, I should have been pleased for him, and in a way I was. His last girlfriend had cheated on him and hurt him badly. I wanted him to move on and leave her well in the past. But my lightened mood had slipped away in a flash, like a slithering snake darting away into a dark hidey-­hole.

  It seemed as though everyone’s love life was on a better track than mine. Mikayla and Dave Cyders had sparks flying between them, and I sensed that might be the case with JT and Shauna too. My relationship with Hans, on the other hand, had received a liberal dousing of cold, harsh reality.

  I didn’t know why I couldn’t find Mr. Right. It wasn’t as if I was in a rush to get married or anything, but I did want to meet the One, and preferably before I hit middle age. But I had to wonder if that would happen.

  Was I doing something wrong? Was I looking in the wrong places?

  I sank down onto the edge of the bed in the guest room, my shoulders slumped. Finnegan sat at my feet and looked up at me. He whined and thumped his tail against the floor. He probably sensed my melancholy thoughts.

  I scratched his ears to reassure him. “I’m okay, boy. I’m feeling a little down, that’s all.”

  Finnegan rested his head on my knee, his brown eyes gazing up at me.

  I couldn’t help but smile, even if it was tinged with sadness. “Maybe things will look better tomorrow, right, Finnegan?”

  It was worth hoping for, at least.

  Chapter 17

  THAT NIGHT MY sleep was troubled by bad dreams. Reverend McAllister chased me through a burning building, the ceiling collapsing in our wake as I ran along corridor after corridor. I slammed through a wooden door and found myself in my apartment. For a brief moment I thought I was safe, the fire and the reverend locked away on the other side of the door. But then I realized I wasn’t alone. Half the orchestra was in my apartment, smashing and slashing at all of my belongings. They cackled at me as they carried out their destruction, their eyes wild.

  Shelley and Susannah sat on the floor, rocking back and forth, sobbing loudly. Their tears flooded the room, the water level rising and rising until the windows burst outward. The water cascaded out of the new openings, sweeping the demonic orchestra members away.

  Again I thought I was safe. But then the water turned to a rushing river of blood. It lifted me off my feet and carried me away. I struggled to stay afloat, but a hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me under. Blood filled my mouth, my nose.

  I gasped and jolted awake.

  It took me a moment to realize I’d been dreaming. There was no fire, no river of blood. Reverend McAllister wasn’t chasing me, and my fellow musicians hadn’t all gone psychotic.

  My breathing and heart rate eventually slowed, but I was shaken up and wide awake. I switched on the bedside lamp and shoved back the blankets. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and slid off the mattress until my feet hit the floor.

  I considered getting a drink of water but decided that what I really wanted was company. I eased opened the bedroom door and crept out into the hallway. Finnegan was curled up on his bed outside JT’s door. He lifted his head when I emerged from the guest room, going from asleep to alert in a split second.

  “Finnegan,” I whispered. “Come here, boy.”

  He got up off his bed and trotted over to see me. I knelt down and buried my face in his fur. After several seconds Finnegan wiggled free and licked my face. Our snuggle session left me feeling better, but I still wanted his reassuring company.

  I made a clicking sound with my tongue as I turned back to the guest bedroom, and Finnegan followed. I left the door open a crack in case he wanted to leave the room later on and then climbed back into bed. Finnegan jumped up beside me and settled down on top of the covers.

  I switched off the lamp and snuggled deeper beneath the blankets, comforted by Finnegan’s weight pressed against my left side. The horrors of my nightmare weren’t real, but they were triggered by the events of the past few days. The murder, the fire, the break-­in at my apartment—­they were all far too real for my liking. They were also too unsolved for my liking. But at least with Finnegan by my side, I was able to drift off back to sleep, this time without nightmares.

  MONDAY BROUGHT A welcome distraction from all my worries—­work. Although I couldn’t play my violin during my lessons as I usually did, that wasn’t much of a hindrance, and the day passed without me spending too much time dwelling on the macabre or my lack of luck in the love department.

  After the last student left my studio, I checked my phone and found a text message from Mikayla, asking if I wanted to go out for dinner with her that night. I sent back an affirmative reply. A girls’ night out was probably what I needed. We arranged to meet at a restaurant downtown and I ran upstairs to change and freshen up my makeup before heading out.

  JT was downstairs in his recording studio, Finnegan keeping him company, so I sent him a quick text message to let him know that I was going out and set off for the bus stop.

  When I met up with Mikayla, I had to explain how I’d injured my hand, and she was suitably shocked by my story. But as soon as we settled in at a table in the restaurant, our conversation drifted to other topics. I knew I’d been right to accept her invitation. She was a good talker and so upbeat that I didn’t have to worry about my thoughts straying into territory that I wanted to avoid. At least, that was the case until we started in on our dessert of hot fudge brownie sundaes.

  “I saw you talking with the maestro after Jeremy’s funeral,” Mikayla said, putting an end to my distraction from all the things I didn’t want to think about.

  I jabbed my spoon into the mound of brownie, fudge, and ice cream. “He tried to give me that whole ‘my feelings for you are real’ speech.”

  Mikayla rolled her ey
es. “Don’t they always.”

  I swallowed a delicious spoonful of my dessert, the heavenly taste a stark contrast to my sour thoughts. “Is there something wrong with me? I mean, do I have ‘fool’ written across my forehead or something?”

  “Of course not. You’re not the only one who’s been lied to by a man. Not by a long shot. Believe me.”

  “I know. But sometimes I wonder if I’m destined to be alone, to never find the right guy.”

  “Oh, please.” Mikayla jabbed the air with her spoon. “Don’t you start thinking like that. You’re younger than I am, for crying out loud, and it’s not like I’m all settled down.”

  “I guess.” I put another piece of brownie in my mouth and savored it. “But what if all the good guys are already taken?”

  “They aren’t. They’re just a lot harder to find than the not so good ones.”

  I sat back and finished off the last sip of my cocktail. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am,” Mikayla said before swallowing the remainder of her dessert. “Take JT, for example. He’s not in any sort of long-­term relationship, is he?”

  “Not at the moment,” I said, thinking of Shauna and wondering where that would end up going.

  “And he’s one of the good ones, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “So . . . any chance there could be anything between the two of you?”

  “Mikayla!”

  “What?” Her dark eyes were innocent.

  “It’s not like that with us. We’re friends.”

  “I thought you once said you had a crush on him when you first met.”

  “Sure, but that was years ago.” I’d only been nineteen to JT’s twenty-­one when I met him. At the time, I was smitten by his easygoing personality and good looks. Especially those root-­beer-­colored eyes of his. “I got over it. Now he’s my best friend.”

  “Doesn’t mean things can’t evolve.”

  “Mikayla!”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. But if you ask me, you’re missing out on a keeper there.”

  I didn’t respond. What was I supposed to say to that? I knew JT was a great guy. That’s why he was my best friend. And sure, any woman would be lucky to have him as their significant other, but it simply wasn’t like that between us. So it was End of Story, as far as I was concerned.

  Still, I decided to hold onto one thing Mikayla had said. Maybe there still were some good guys out there who weren’t already spoken for. Maybe there was even one out there for me. I just needed to keep looking, and not let myself get too jaded because of jerks like Hans.

  I felt more hopeful about the future as I parted ways with Mikayla and rode the bus back to JT’s house. I even had a bit of a spring in my step as I trotted up the stairs to the front door. I used my key to let myself in and pushed open the door. I stopped just over the threshold.

  Finnegan scrabbled across the hardwood floors to greet me, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. JT was on the couch in the living room, and he wasn’t alone. A brunette sat next to him, and even though there was no physical contact between them at the moment, I got the distinct feeling that my entrance had interrupted a make-­out session.

  “Hi,” I said, still standing in the foyer with the door open. I absently reached out with one hand to pet Finnegan on the head.

  JT cleared his throat. “Hey, Dori. This is Shauna. Shauna, my friend Midori.”

  Shauna wiggled her fingers at me. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said again.

  A draft of cool evening air wafted against my back, reminding me that I’d left the door open. I pushed it closed and shoved my keys in my purse.

  “Did you have a good time?” JT asked me.

  “Yes, thanks.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, awkwardness filling the foyer around me. “But I’m tired, so I’m going to call it a night.” I smiled at Shauna. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” she said.

  I dashed up the stairs, Finnegan racing along with me.

  “Good night!” I heard JT call from below.

  I headed straight for the guest room and plopped down on the bed. Encouraged by his invitation to join me the night before, Finnegan hopped up beside me.

  I kicked off my boots, relieved to have escaped the stifling, uncomfortable feeling that had taken over me downstairs. “Talk about a third wheel, huh, Finnegan?”

  My canine pal sat down at my side and licked my cheek. He gave me his best doggie grin, his tongue rolling out the side of his mouth.

  I smiled. “You’re right, buddy. I’m never out of place with you.” I slung an arm around him and gave him a hug.

  But even though I had Finnegan to keep me company, my temporarily raised spirits had taken a nosedive. I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed, hoping once again that things would look up in the morning.

  AT LEAST I managed to sleep through the night without any disturbing dreams. I awoke slowly, curled up beneath the warm covers. Finnegan was still beside me, somehow taking up two-­thirds of the queen bed even though he wasn’t a huge dog. I only had my eyes open for a few minutes when I heard a tap on the half-­closed bedroom door. Finnegan jumped up and bounced off the bed.

  I rolled over so I could see JT opening the door the rest of the way. “Morning,” I mumbled in a sleepy voice.

  JT crouched down to greet Finnegan. “Morning. Looks like you found yourself a roommate.”

  “Sorry about letting him on the bed. He keeps the nightmares away.”

  A flicker of concern showed in JT’s eyes. “That’s all right. But he probably needs to visit the backyard now.” He got to his feet and Finnegan brushed past him, heading for the stairs. “You getting up?”

  “Mmm.” I snuggled against the pillows. “Soon.”

  JT leaned against the door frame. “I was thinking of cooking up some bacon and eggs. You want some?”

  The prospect of a home-­cooked breakfast perked me up. “Please.”

  “I’ll start cooking in a few minutes, then.” JT followed Finnegan downstairs.

  I rolled out of bed and grabbed some clean clothes out of the bag I’d brought from home. After a quick shower, I padded downstairs in my bare feet, the smells of brewing coffee and frying bacon wafting toward me. I breathed in with deep appreciation as I arrived in the kitchen, slipping onto one of the stools at the granite breakfast bar.

  JT poured a cup of black coffee for himself and set a vanilla latte in front of me. A plate of bacon and two sunny-­side-­up eggs followed shortly after.

  “Yum,” I said as I dug in.

  JT joined me at the breakfast bar, and Finnegan settled at our feet. We ate in silence for a few minutes until I decided to raise the subject that had been on my mind the night before as I drifted off to sleep.

  “I think I’ll move back home today.”

  JT stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. He lowered it back to his plate. “Do you know something I don’t? Has the intruder been caught?”

  I snapped a piece off a strip of bacon and put it in my mouth. “No,” I said after chewing and swallowing.

  “Then it’s not safe for you to go back there.” He resumed eating.

  “But I can’t let this person—­whoever they are—­keep me out of my home forever.”

  “It won’t be forever. Give the cops a chance to do their job.”

  I chomped on another piece of bacon. The truth was, I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of going back home yet, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to stay at JT’s any longer either.

  I decided to address the heart of the issue. “I’m cramping your style. I’ll be all right at home.”

  JT had picked up his coffee mug, but set it back down on the counter with a clack. “Cramping my style? What are you talking about?”
r />   “Shauna, of course.”

  JT stared at me for a second and then picked up his mug again. “I barely know her, and it’s not serious yet.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You are not cramping my style, okay? I like having you here.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do. Besides, if you go home, I’ll have to camp out on your couch so I don’t worry about you.”

  “My couch is toast,” I reminded him.

  “On your living room floor, then. And, so you know, I get grouchy when I have a sore back.”

  I smiled. “All right. I’ll stay a while longer.”

  I munched on the last of my bacon, thoughts turning in my head. As sweet as it was of JT to let me stay at his place, I couldn’t remain there forever. I needed to reclaim my home at some point. I couldn’t let some shadowy figure keep me away from it and my normal life much longer.

  But who knew how long it would take the police to catch the culprit?

  There was even a chance that they’d never catch them. It wasn’t as if unsolved cases were a rarity.

  As I sipped my latte, I decided the only way to ensure that I could return home safely before too much more time passed was to figure out who the guilty party was myself.

  Chapter 18

  AFTER BREAKFAST I accompanied JT and Finnegan to the local park. A few joggers and other dog walkers were out, and kids loaded down with bulging backpacks were on their way to school. The morning air was sweet and refreshing.

  JT and I stopped to wait as Finnegan conducted a thorough sniffing investigation at the base of a tree. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fished it out to see who was calling.

  Susannah.

  I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Susannah. How are you?”

  “Okay.” Somehow she managed to make that one word sound incredibly timid and fragile.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

  “I just got an e-­mail. I think it’s from Reverend McAllister.”