Music to Die For Read Online Free PDF Page A

could murmur, “Where were they? Was something wrong?”
    After repeating the public explanation for the performers’ lateness and acknowledging Beth’s thanks with what she hoped was a casual smile, Carrie turned her attention to the food in front of her. She had no difficulty appreciating the meal in spite of the fact that her thoughts were picking through the odd events of the afternoon and evening, and she was trying to sort out what to do next.
    Maybe it was none of her business but, after all, she had been the one to encounter the woman in the forest and, what’s more, that woman had chosen to communicate a message to her. Didn’t some responsibility go with that?
    Even if she had to admit to the Masons that she’d heard just a teeny bit of their conversation, she really should tell them what the woman had said. By the time her plate was empty she’d worked out a way to do it. After the performance she’d continue pretending to be their hostess and leave with them to escort them to...where? They knew this area a lot better than she did.
    Well, she’d fake it. She was very good at faking things, as she knew Henry would affirm, without meaning his affirmation as a compliment. Whatever. She was good at acting. She’d just walk out with them and say something like: “By the way, I was in the woods this afternoon and I saw an unusual woman. I wonder if, being native to this area, you might understand what she was talking about...”
    A waitress took away her dinner plate and put down a fat piece of huckleberry pie with sugary purple juice oozing out each side. Oh, my! She was beginning to feel stuffed, but she took a few bites of pie anyway and went back to thoughts about the missing child.
    Finally she looked up to see Beth glaring at her and realized she’d been responding to her friend’s attempts at conversation almost like the Masons had responded to hers a few minutes earlier.
    She reached over to squeeze Beth’s hand. “Sorry, my thoughts have been a million miles away.”
    “Well, I can sure tell that ,” Beth said, “and I was wondering if Henry had called and said he couldn’t come tomorrow.”
    Carrie laughed. “Goodness, no. I’m making plans for using some of the new ideas we’ve heard this week. Sorry, guess I can’t stop thinking about my tourists. I was also thinking I should try and pick more huckleberries next summer and freeze them to make pies.”
    These were explanations Beth could understand, and she smiled at Carrie, displaying teeth that were stained purple with berry juice. Then she nodded and returned to her piece of pie, leaving Carrie to feel only slightly guilty about telling such outrageous lies—though Beth would probably remember any minute that Carrie was no cook and never made pies. Oh, well. She would explain everything later, when all this was over and the child was safely home.
    Surely that would be soon.
    After the dessert plates had been removed, the convention director presented Tracy Teal, Chase Mason, and Aunt Brigid Mason with the flourish their fame deserved, repeating lavish and obviously memorized accolades for each of them.
    Once more Carrie was aware that Henry, not she, should be the one listening to this program. Hoping to remember some detail or musical specialty to tell him about, she turned her full attention to the performance.
    For the first time she looked closely at the Masons. Tracy was petite, with delicate features, creamy skin, and what Beth would call a Scarlett O’Hara waist. She had long blond hair, worn in a simple ponytail. Her small waist was enhanced by a full country skirt and ruffled blouse.
    Chase and his mother were darker. He was tall and a little too thin to be a real pin-up. Aunt Brigid was sturdier than her son, and the gathered skirt and shawl she wore went well with her full figure, though—Carrie looked back at Tracy—the same type costume showed off a petite figure too.
    None of the three seemed conscious of their looks,