BLURB
Trouble is brewing at Whitman’s Port Choral Society as choir members drop dead and Detective Jonathan Storm raises more questions than answers in his investigation. When Stefan, the choir’s soloist, gets weaker by the day, Meg and her friends take matters into their own hands. And if a murder investigation was not enough to elevate anyone’s blood pressure, Meg finds herself in danger tied to her past that she’s struggling to understand.
Will Meg and her friends stop the killer before Stefan becomes the next victim—and before Meg’s past catches up with her?
Join these golden-age sleuths as they follow the clues, protect their own, and prove that friendship is the strongest weapon against a killer.
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EXCERPT
There were two new faces I didn’t recognize from last year’s concert. They looked familiar, though I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. The conductor stood in front, his back to us as he summoned the choir’s eyes to him with a few taps of his baton. He took a deep breath, synchronizing the choir’s breathing to his own. Gesturing with his baton, he released the soprano’s voice—rich, powerful, and throbbing with emotion. The beginning strains of the solo filled the auditorium. Holding his right hand at waist level, the conductor flicked his right index finger left, then right, counting the beats.
“That’s Amanda, in case you didn’t know,” Liz told me behind her raised hand.
I nodded and tried to stop my giggles when Liz’s shoulder hit mine.
“Will…you…shut…up?” Barbara widened her eyes more with each word.
Liz waved her hands in surrender, twitched her body deeper into the chair, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. If it weren’t for the trembling of her shoulders, Liz could have fooled us with her pose of deep listening. But we knew her, and all she got from Barbara was another shove. Despite her unfailingly put-together appearance—manicured nails and hair always expertly cut and dyed—Liz hadn’t left her teen years behind. We must have been making a racket because a woman three rows down turned around and glared at us.
Liz and I looked at each other and decided to settle down and listen. I swayed, imagining my soul lifting in prayer, soaring past the lights of the auditorium and ever more upwards into the wide open sky beyond the school building. Then it happened. One minute I was up in the heavens, one with the song; the next minute I was crashing without a parachute.
The glorious voice stopped, leaving echoes of the high note ringing in the auditorium. A harsh cough sounded, jarring and unexpected. The accompanist stopped. The conductor jerked forward while the soprano toppled gracelessly to the floor, face down. Music scores fluttered in the air before landing gently around the stricken woman. A choir member huddled over her while the rest stared in shock.
“She’s not breathing!” The grief-stricken wail rattled my bones.
Barbara jumped up from her chair, her eyes fixed on Stefan, who stood frozen in his place, his eyes fixed on Amanda.
Amanda…who wasn’t moving.
I whipped my phone out of my bag and dialed nine-one-one. How long would help take to get here? Stefan moved to where Amanda was, kneeling to touch her on her shoulder. What was Stefan waiting for? Why was he not giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? A few other choir members crept nearer but then backed away when Stefan waved them off. Start CPR, I wanted to shout, but couldn’t because the 911 operator had picked up my call.
Then the door to the auditorium opened, and in walked Edna, former third-grade teacher of Post Elementary School and the last of our group. One look at the stage and the woman laid out on the floor had Edna gasping, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Oh no, not another murder?”
Author Info
GG Calpo is a retired lawyer and accountant who traded contracts and numbers for the far more enjoyable chaos of fictional crime. Now she writes cozy whodunits featuring warm-hearted golden-aged sleuths who’ve seen it all, heard it all and will investigate a murder with zero hesitation. She loves stories where the stakes are personal, family and friendships are paramount, with characters who refuse to follow the outline and endings that pull the rug out. When not plotting twisty crimes—on paper only, of course—she spends her time reading, crocheting blankets and sweaters for her five grandchildren, watching mystery TV shows and taking long walks in her neighborhood. She lives in Central New Jersey with her husband and two corgis, Whiskey and Nugget.
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