I was thinking I want to see you tonight.
You aren’t too tired after your game?
Those three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again before I got his response.
I was. Until I thought about seeing you
And now?
Now it’s all I can think about
Well now that you’ve put the idea in my head, it’s all I’m thinking about too
My mother’s hosting a party I can’t get out of just yet
Give me 30 min to be seen mingling and then I’m yours
I pushed send before I could think through how that sounded, and I stared at the word “yours” in horror for three seconds until he responded:
I like the sound of that. Meet me at the rink whenever you can get away.
Nothing could come of this. My mother would lose it if I were to date a human, or a rockstar, or a hockey player, and Neto was all of those things. But we were singing together, or at least we would be,ifwe solved the murder in time for the concert. And that was a legitimate reason for him to be in my life, at least a little bit, at least for now.
It was fine for me to meet him. It wasn’t like I was getting attached.
The butterflies in my stomach presented probable cause to believe I was lying to myself, but I did my best to ignore them.
So I threw a pair of soft leggings, a green knitted sweater, and a pair of slip-on boots into a bag. No way did I want Neto to see me in the bland business casual attire my mother approved of.
I tracked down Maris and asked her to load my duffle, ice skates, and the canteen of hot chocolate into my car. Her conspiratorial smile was tinged with a bit of sadness, but she took my things with a knowing wink. This wasn’t the first time she’d aided and abetted a getaway.
Time seemed to slow as I mingled with my mother’s guests. I vaguely knew almost everyone there, and they allthoughtthey knew me. I was Anne—the quiet musician who was the picture of a dutiful daughter and never caused problems for her mother beyond having a tendency to excuse herself from large gatherings. Some of them thought I was shy, others sickly, and a few thought it was because I was stuck up, but none of them cared enough to actually find out.
If anyone had asked, would I tell them the truth? That my enhanced senses created a barrage of sights and sounds and smells and textures to brush up against and it was exhausting to keep a tight lid on my magic for long? If any of them cared, I’d probably tell them. I wasn’t ashamed of my ability, or of how sometimes the only way to control it was to limit my sensory input for a while. But no one ever asked.
I slumped on to the couch, trying to ignore the dull pounding behind my eyes. Five more minutes and I could go see Neto. I fought the urge to shut out all the colors and shadows and movement. I looked overhead, letting my eyes rest for a moment on the coffered ceiling. When I looked back toward the crowd, I saw Walter Bramwell. Perfect. Talking to him here would be more natural than trying to arrange a meeting where I could get more information, so I hurried over to him.
Walter leaned casually against a tall window, an effortless portrait of bored elegance. He wore a tweed sport coat over acrisp white shirt, tieless and with the top two buttons undone, more academic than his usual look.
“Oh, hey, Walter. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
He adjusted a gold cufflink. “Neither did I. I never know what networking opportunities my parents are going to insist I attend. But I can’t ever say no because I have to constantly show my father that I’m CEO material.”
I smiled wryly. “Oh, the things we do to please our high achieving parents.”
“How are you holding up? You seemed pretty upset after… after Paolo.”
“I’m okay. It was quite a shock. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m just shocked that Fred would kill him.”
I shook my head. “There’s no way Fred did it.”
“Who could it have been then? It wasn’t me and it wasn’t you. At least I’m assuming it wasn’t you.” He raised an eyebrow.
“It wasn’t me. I was in a practice room warming up. When Paolo didn’t show up, I went to look for him and found him dead. Where were you?”
He took a sip from his drink. “I did my mic check with Fred, and then I went to a practice room to rehearse for a bit before the rest of the orchestra showed up and I didn’t leave it. Fred could have killed Paolo during that time.
