Dead Ringer Read Online Free PDF Page A

she held back with her questions.
    â€œThanks for that,” I said, nodding toward the cluster of other orchestra members now murmuring among themselves.
    â€œAny time.”
    I checked to make sure I’d loosened my bow earlier, then shut my violin case, fastening the clasps. “It’s not like I really know a whole lot anyway. I mean, it was pretty obvious he was murdered, and I don’t think the police know who did it, but I don’t know anything else. All I want to do is go home.”
    â€œOf course you do.” Mikayla put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. “I get the creeps every time I picture his body on the stairs like that.”
    â€œHow come you’re all still here?”
    â€œThe police wanted to talk to each one of us so we had to wait around. Those of us in here have already had our turn, but I think everyone’s shocked and wants to know what happened. I didn’t want to leave until I knew you were okay.” She picked up my music folder from the table and handed it to me. “Here, I brought this back from the stage for you.”
    â€œThanks. And I am okay. But I’d really like to get out of here.” I slid the folder into my bag before slinging the bag over my shoulder.
    Mikayla grabbed her own belongings as I picked up my violin case. “I’m with you.”
    With her intimidating glare clearing a path for us, we left the room and headed for the nearest exit.
    I WAS SURPRISED the next morning when I woke up to sunshine streaming in through the crack in my blue and white curtains. It wasn’t that I had expected bad weather, even though Vancouver was known for its rain. What surprised me was the fact that I’d slept soundly through the whole night.
    I wasn’t about to complain. The rest had refreshed me, and I was relieved that I hadn’t spent the night replaying my discovery of Jeremy’s body.
    I took a quick shower, dried my hair, put on some makeup, and dressed for the day. After that I didn’t know what to do with myself.
    Aside from playing second violin in the Point Grey Philharmonic, I also taught private violin lessons for a living. I did most of my teaching in the afternoons, after school hours. Although I taught a ­couple of adults and a few home-­schooled children, even those lessons were scheduled for the early afternoons.
    I could have stayed home and cleaned my tiny apartment, or I could have gone to the grocery store and stocked up on food to fill my sadly depleted refrigerator, but I didn’t feel like doing either of those things. What I really wanted was company, so I grabbed my cell phone, planning to get in touch with my best friend, JT Travers.
    JT was a musician, composer, and sound engineer. He had his own recording studio in the basement of his house in Dunbar, and also rented out a room on the main floor to me where I taught my violin lessons. Even though we were friends, the business arrangement still worked out well. He charged me a reasonable rate, less than I would have to pay elsewhere, and I occasionally helped him out by playing my violin for tracks he was recording without charging a fee.
    JT was an easygoing guy, and that was exactly the kind of company I needed right then. Even though my solid night’s sleep had left me refreshed, I was still preoccupied by everything that had happened at the church. I wanted someone to talk to, someone who would have a calming effect on me.
    I had a key to JT’s front door so I could come and go from my music studio as needed, but I didn’t make a practice of showing up unannounced at times when I didn’t have lessons scheduled. Since I wasn’t due to teach for several hours, I sent JT a text message, asking if he was busy or if I could come by. I received a response less than two minutes later.
    Not busy, his message read. Come on over.
    Smiling, I sent back a quick reply: On my way .
    I shoved my phone