Death in the Choir Read Free

and…” She was surprised at how shaky her voice sounded. He looked
at her with compassion in his eyes, and it took her a moment to compose
herself.
    “I’m very sorry to hear
about your husband.”
    “Yes, well, it was quite
sudden. An accident.” She had to change the subject or she would start crying.
    “But to answer your
question, I do a little volunteer work at the rectory, lots of reading, some
gardening, you know...”
    Randall moved closer to her
now. “Well, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
    She could feel his body heat
radiating toward her and caught a whiff of heady and very masculine cologne. He
was so close she could see how cleanly he shaved and how carefully starched his
shirt was. Do other women find men’s
Adam’s apples sensuous? Not those big bulbous ones, of course, but there’s
definitely some appeal in a well-formed apple like his.
    “Yes?” She suddenly felt
very shy. At this close distance he was no doubt noticing every single flaw of
her complexion, and there were quite a few, the result of a lifelong battle with
acne.
    “Would you be interested in
being my choir assistant?”
    “Your what?” The words flew
out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. I must sound like a babbling
fool , she thought. He probably thinks
I don’t know the meaning of the word.
    “I’m looking for someone to
buy sheet music, organize it, keep an updated list of phone numbers and e-mail
addresses for choir members, print programs for special concerts, send out
e-mails about rehearsals -- a lot of little tasks I’m handling myself now. And
you’d be paid, of course.”
    A little extra money for Christmas certainly couldn’t hurt , she thought. And as his assistant I could work closely
with him and get to know him better.
    “Well, what do you say?”
    He has dimples. How strange that I didn’t notice them before.
    “It sounds interesting – and
I could use some extra Christmas money.” She felt her cheeks growing warmer as
two completely unexpected images suddenly flashed through her mind out of
nowhere: the two of them, wrapped in a delicious embrace; the two of them,
standing before the altar to take their vows.
    She began stuffing her sheet
music into her folder to avoid his eyes. “When do I start?”
    “I’ll give you a call later
in the week and we can get together. I have your phone number on the choir list.”
    Now Randall seemed very
officious as he stood up. “Unfortunately, the pay isn’t fabulous, but it’s
dictated by the pastor, as is everything else.”
    He looked pained, but he
didn’t really have to go into the details with her. Everyone in the choir was
well aware of the long history of misunderstandings that existed between the
pastor and the last three choir directors. Father John Riley had been at the
helm for seven years, and he was well-loved by the congregation for his upbeat
sermons and dry wit. But he had a definite temper, and sometimes the people who
worked closely with him felt its sting.
    The last choir director,
enraged by the pastor’s meddling in the day-to-day details of the choir, had
stormed out of the church one day during the early morning Mass, never
returning. He had gone on to become a world-renowned organist, and there were
still days when people in the choir would reminisce about the quality of the
musical selections he had chosen.
    There had been a mad
scramble to replace him, and Randall had been hired. Although she knew most
people thought he didn’t have the same skill set as his predecessor, he was
known for working hard to select traditional music and for keeping the choir
motivated. Now history seemed to be repeating itself with the pastor.
    “You probably know this
beastly thing is on its last legs.” Randall straightened up a stack of hymnals
while shooting the aged organ a dark look.
    “One of these days it’s
going to die a foul death right during Mass. Of course, I’ve told Father John
innumerable times, but he