Music to Die For by Radine Trees Nehring

wrong here, something more than Dulcey’s abduction. Surely it must be part of her mission to find out what that was...and fix it.
    It’s obvious I’ve got to stick with them. They need me, she thought, bypassing the knowledge that Chase’s own mother was nearby and that both performers, no matter how young, were mature enough to manage successful careers as well as a music theater in Branson.
    She reached out and took hold of Tracy’s hand, squeezing it hard enough to hurt—which at least got Tracy’s attention—and asked, “Where did you find the candlestick? I’ll put it back.”
    Tracy pointed over Carrie’s shoulder and she turned, seeing a small shelf on the back wall. Then she whirled back toward Chase, sensing sudden movement from his direction. Quick as lightning he had bent over Farel’s body and was reaching toward the scissors. He had a handkerchief in his hand.
    Whoa, thought Carrie, he woke up in a hurry! Her sharp command, “Stop,” was meant to startle him, and it did. He froze, his handkerchief-wrapped hand only inches from the scissors.
    “Don’t touch those,” Carrie ordered in the firm tone she had used when disciplining Rob. “Tracy didn’t touch them, nor did I, and if you didn’t...” She let the sentence die while her eyes watched him for any further move.
    As Chase drew his hand back, Carrie said, “Give it to me,” and reached out to take the square of cloth. She was surprised that Chase would think his wife had stabbed Farel, or...but no, he’d been in the auditorium with his mother. Who else besides Tracy might he be trying to protect?
    She wrapped the handkerchief over her hand and rubbed the metal candlestick as if she were doing a thorough dusting. Surely that would take care of Tracy’s fingerprints.
    “Wait for me on the sidewalk,” she said. “I’ll blow this out and follow. As soon as the candle goes out, light a match to show me where you are, and don’t move from that spot.”
    She put the candlestick back on the shelf, blew out the flame, and waited until a match flared outside the door. As she stepped quickly around the dead man, she noticed that shapes and forms were now easy to see in newly unclouded moonlight, though the security lights were still off.
    She started through the door, and then stopped. She’d touched the inside doorknob. Pushing aside the memory of Henry’s instructions about destroying evidence, she polished the knob. Surely the killer hadn’t touched it. If that part of Tracy’s story was true, the door had been open when he ran out.
    She hesitated again, thinking about the light switch. She hadn’t touched it, but Tracy had. Well, forget what Henry would say. Tracy had troubles enough, and besides, any fool could see she hadn’t killed her cousin.
    Carrie rubbed her cloth-covered hand over the light switch, leaving it in the on position. If the killer had left fingerprints there he must have touched lots of other things in the shop too. Henry was still too much a policeman to condone destroying evidence, but if it ever came up, she’d just have to explain about the need to protect Tracy.
    Thoughts of Henry reminded her how much she wished he was here right now.
    Never mind, he wasn’t...wouldn’t be until tomorrow, so for now it was “Carry On Carrie,” just as it had been so many times in years past.
    Nodding to herself, Carrie went out the open door and joined the Masons on the sidewalk. They were a pair of statues, waiting for her to lead the way, though they must be very familiar with every part of the Folk Center grounds. She started to walk along the moonlit path toward the back of the auditorium, talking to them over her shoulder as she went.
    “If anyone asks why I’m with you,” she said, “just tell them I’m your convention hostess.”
    “You don’t need to come with us.” Chase’s tone was sullen.
    Carrie ignored him. “From now until the police get to Farel’s body, you need to be sure someone outside