MURDER TUNED IN (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

quid pro quo , darling. It's merely retaliation for an insult, designed to frighten me. I'm not frightened, but I am angry. There was nothing I accused Sally Kane of that wasn't true. Everyone needed to hear it. It's a good thing I'm the only choreographer in town, otherwise I wouldn’t be working on this show. It's by the good graces of our producer, the fabulous Del Collins, that Angus allowed me to come on board."
                  Allie thought for a moment. "Where will you be today at 3:49?"
                  "Back at the theater. I have to consult with Angus about the dance numbers."
                  "I'll be there too. I want to observe what happens."
                  The check came and Tad signed for it.
                  They walked back to his car, the weather being just a little too chilly for strolling the quarter mile back to the theater. They got in and she thanked him, and he smiled and said nothing.
                  His smile was gorgeous. Allie could stare into those eyes all day. She could dive into them and swim around. He was complex enough to be interesting.
                  And then, once again, he mentioned how cute the waiter was.
                  So much for the swim.

5.
                  It was 3:30.
                  Allie was having a hard time keeping track of people. Angus MacFetridge was like a hummingbird, darting here and there. He'd emerge, then disappear, then emerge again, and then disappear. Yet all was under his control. It was an impressive thing to behold, this much command over such a large group of people—artists, stagehands, technicians—such a variety of specialties and temperaments. He now held court over a small group of dancers in the first row. Ben Sokol was down in the orchestra pit working with his musicians, looking incredibly stressed and euphoric at the same time. He came up onto the stage and listened to a lonely horn playing in the pit. He shouted something to the player.
                  Someone asked about Sally Kane.
                  There was a burst of discordant horns from the pit.
                  Angus MacFetridge said something in a lilting tone and the group he was working with erupted in sycophantic laughter.
                  Allie looked over at the opposite side of the stage and saw Tad Mills emerge from the shadows.
                  A dancer approached him with a question and he dismissed her quickly.
                  And Allie shuffled in her spot in the wings as nervousness jittered in her knees. She looked at her watch: 3:48.
                  She kept one eye on Angus, watching for any sign of his excusing himself, or reaching for his phone.
                  No, he couldn’t be that stupid as to make the call here. Any minute now, he'll leave the theater. He'll check his watch, see that it's almost 3:49...
                  Tad waited on the opposite side of the stage. He checked his watch too. Then looked up at Allie and nodded.
                  It was 3:49.
                  Tad took his phone out of his front pocket. Allie glanced at Angus.
                  Angus was riffling the pages of a bound notebook; he was interrupted and yelled at someone Allie guessed was probably the set designer. His hands were nowhere near his phone, nor had they been this whole time.
                  Tad put down his phone. Nodded at Allie.
                  And then someone screamed.
     

6.
     
                  It wasn't a scream like you hear in the movies. This was a half-worded, shaking sob that quickly grew in intensity.
                  One of the dancers, a tiny-framed girl in a leotard who was fresh out of high school but looked fresh out of elementary, ran out onto the stage, her hands