The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 4) Read online

  They made their way through the lively crowd on the sidewalk to the huge glass double doors of the entrance. Inside the parquet floor curved in a half moon shape under the molded glass wall and ceiling of the front. The entrance space seemed to serve as a lobby where the audience was being served drinks and canapés while everyone chatted and waited to go iniside. The press of the music patrons filled the air with cologne and perfume and the smell of fancy finger food.

  Light-colored brick lined the interior wall, which was dotted with modern paintings. Strange looking scuptures were placed in spots Miranda supposed were meant to accent the curve of the layout.

  A tall oval piece of oak suspended on a pedestal and engraved with an intricate design of geometric shapes. A big blue plastic swirling thing. A huge aluminum ribbon on a stand curling into the air and ending in sharp points at the top. Must have been ten feet high. She wondered if that was supposed to be a statement of some sort. The twists and turns of life? With all its surprises and sharp edges?

  She almost laughed at herself. If she was starting to get art, Parker’s influence must be really wearing off on her.

  They found Tia chatting with a group of friends, Valdinho on one side of her and Holloway on the other. She was stunning in a shimmering ruby gown with a flattering neckline and delicate tiers of airy fabric. Jewels were at her neck, her ears, and scattered throughout her dark hair, which she’d piled atop her head in curls.

  With her dark expressive brows and exotic eyes, she looked regal as ever and yet warm and friendly and open. Miranda found herself admiring the woman. To be so together, so gracious after all the terror she’d been through was something to see.

  Tia introduced them to her friends and Didi joined them with Wesson at her side. Wesson looked classy in a short black dress and Tia’s older daughter was in a light green outfit that made her hair look blonder. If Miranda wasn’t mistaken she seemed more subdued. The shock of her father’s death must be hard on her and Miranda was sure the soccer playing Joca was no comfort. He wasn’t even around.

  After a bit of small talk bells chimed and everyone shuffled inside the auditorium.

  The main hall was a large, open space with tiered seating and a wide oval stage near the front that was now littered with chairs and music stands. Stage lighting hung from rafters above and around the exterior were curtains and paneling designed for good acoustics, no doubt.

  The seats filled up fast. Soon there looked to be almost two hundred in attendance. Townsfolk, parents of the performers, music lovers who’d come to the quaint little town for the occasion.

  As Miranda slid onto the red velvet cushion just behind Tia, she leaned over to whisper to Parker. “I think everything will be all right.”

  Black clad musicians began to appear on the stage and start to make the warming up noises of an orchestra.

  Parker took her hand and held it tenderly as he spoke quietly enough not to be overheard. “Let’s hope so. Perhaps we might even enjoy the performance.”

  His confidence made her relax a bit and when he put her hand to his lips, her heart soared.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The lights went down, the conductor tapped his baton on his stand and lifted his arms. Miranda glanced at the program an usher had stuffed in her hand. Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Paganini. Two hours of non-stop excitement.

  She caught sight of Pipia in the first row of the violins. Her back straight she had her dark blonde hair in a fanciful twist and was clad in shimmering dark blue. Holding her instrument upright on her lap, she focused on the conductor.

  The music started.

  The first number was a lively melody, with the whole orchestra playing briskly. But then the flutes took over and the tune drifted into montonoy. Miranda scanned the auditorium floor. A man across from her was yawning already. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t see anyone who looked like they were carrying a gun or a knife. Everyone looked like they were here for the show.

  But looks could be deceptive.

  The piece ended and everyone clapped politely. Another one started, this time slow and languid. Miranda stretched in her chair and wished for something with a good beat. Boredom was a good thing just now, right? It meant everything was going smoothly. Everyone was safe. For the moment anyway.

  She glanced at Parker. He seemed to be enjoying the music but she knew he was watchful. She peered past him at the crowd on the other side. Nothing suspicious. Everybody was watching the performance.

  Stifling a yawn she shook herself as the third symphony began. Da da da da...Beethoven? Hey, she’d recognized one. This was a dramatic piece. She ought to stay awake for this one. But before it was over she was nodding.

  She pinched herself, shifted in her seat as the audience applauded again.

  “Restless?” Parker whispered in her ear. He knew her too well.

  “A bit,” she confessed.

  “The next one is Pipia’s solo.”

  “Cool.” That ought to keep her awake. Or not.

  Once more the conductor raised his baton and soft gentle murmurings came from the orchestra.

  “Sibelius,” Parker murmured to her.

  Must be the composer. She’d never heard of him.

  Pipia rose in her shimmering gown and began to play. Somehow this piece was different. Or maybe Pipia made it different. The sound of her violin was sweet and sad and heart wrenching all at the same time.

  Oboes came in behind her with fuller, darker notes, the cellos and basses joined in sawing away in even deeper tones.

  Pipia’s bow flew over her violin. Her fingers danced over the neck of her instrument. Man, she was good. Miranda’s heart swelled with the music. It was beautiful. The lovely strains went on and on.

  Darker and darker the orchestra played. The ominous melody suddenly reminded Miranda of the deep, dark forests surrounding them outside. Running through them.

  Her dream.

  Her heart beat wildly. Strange sensations rippled up her spine, pulsed down her neck. She grabbed onto her armrests to steady herself.

  And the music ended.

  Thunderous applause broke out around her. The audience rose to its feet. Miranda stood with them, clapping too. Before her Didi and Tia and Valdinho were all smiles, their faces bursting with pride.

  She felt dizzy, wobbly. She couldn’t shake the weird sensation. The temperature seemed to be rising. It was warm. Too warm. Something in the air. Not the perfume or cologne of the patrons.

  Something...smokey.

  She glanced at the walls alongside the auditorium. Pale whiffs of smoke were drifting up toward the rafters.

  She reached for Parker’s arm. “Is that supposed to be for effects?”

  He turned his head and his body tensed. “No. It’s fire.”

  Good Lord.

  “Stay calm. We’ll have to get everyone out of here without a panic.”

  Too late. An alarm went off with a jarring blare.

  A woman two rows ahead of them screamed. Near the front row a man began to shout in Portuguese. The conductor turned around wild-eyed. People began pushing into the aisles.

  “Manter a calma!” Parker shouted in a loud firm voice. “Remain calm and proceed to the exits.”

  No one paid any attention. They could hardly hear him over the alarm and the shrieking.

  The conductor seemed to. He grabbed a microphone. “Sim, sim. There seems to be an emergency. Everyone stay calm and exit the building in an orderly manner.” A noble attempt, but the panic in his voice didn’t help.

  Orchestra members began to scramble off the stage. Some jumped off the front and into the crowd, others ran toward the back. some took their instruments, others left them behind.

  Miranda felt the press of Tia’s hand. She turned and saw dread in the woman’s eyes. “Is this a fire?”

  Miranda glanced to the side and saw flames starting to travel up the curtain along one wall. “Yes.”

  “Querido Deus.”

  “Don’t
panic. We just have to get everyone out.”

  A booming voice rang out from the far aisle just below the exit sign. “Que diabos? It is locked. I cannot open the door.”

  What?

  Someone shrieked. Others began pounding on the neighboring doors. None of them would open.

  “We are trapped,” someone else cried. “We are all going to die.”

  The same people who had been so classy and civil a few moments ago began shoving each other into the aisles, pressing up against the walls.

  “Don’t panic!” Parker demanded.

  But nobody listened.

  “Pipia,” Miranda heard Tia whisper.

  She turned around to reach for her, but the woman had already scrambled over Valdinho and into the center aisle.

  “Tia,” Miranda called out. “She’ll be all right.” Though she didn’t know that at all.

  Tia ignored her. “Pipia. She is back there. I must find my baby.” And she picked up her skirts and ran toward the stage.

  Shit. Miranda took off after her, scurrying down the shallow stairs of the aisle. The smoke was starting to fill the building. It was getting hard to breathe.

  Just as she saw Tia disappear behind the stage, she heard Parker’s shout behind her, calling to her. She couldn’t stop. She had to get both Tia and Pipia out of here.

  If she could find them in the crowd.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “Miranda! Come back!” Parker was halfway down the center aisle when he saw Miranda climb onto the stage and run toward the back after Tia.

  Anger burned in his chest. What the hell was she doing? Trying to save their client, of course.

  He started to follow her down the aisle when Didi’s panicked voice registered in his head.

  “Wade, help us.”

  He spun around. Didi was trapped between one of the seats and a pile of men and women trying to get into the aisle. He rushed to her.

  “Back up,” he ordered, shouldering one of the men off her.

  He pulled a screaming woman back and into the aisle. He reached for Didi with both hands and lifted her into his arms.

  “Save us,” she said with her eyes closed. Then she went limp.

  Her lip was bleeding. Someone must have elbowed her.

  Parker glanced around. Flames were whipping up the walls. The shrieks and cries of the crowd were ear crushing. He didn’t see Valdinho or Holloway anywhere.

  Wesson suddenly appeared at his side. “I tried to keep the people off her but we were pushed back.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Forcing his heartbeat to slow he turned around, studied the possibilities. The only way out was the lobby. They had to act fast.

  He nodded toward the back. “That way.”

  His jaw tight, his heart breaking he made his way in the direction he’d indicated. He had to trust Miranda could get herself and Tia and Pipia out on her own.

  Wesson pushed ahead of him, using her long elbows to get through the people. At last they reached a door. Parker used the back of his hand to test it. Cool, thank God.

  He pressed the handle. It opened.

  “This way!” he shouted to the crowd.

  Then he stepped through and propped the thing open. The door stop still worked.

  “Here.” He handed the unconscious Didi to Wesson just before the crowd rushed into the lobby.

  They went for the outside doors and once more found them all locked. The screaming began again along with the pushing and the endless ear splitting alarm.

  It was impossible to think.

  Parker stood on tiptoe and tried to peer out the glass. Surely someone had called Emergency. There had to be a fire truck out there but all he saw was the surrounding lamplights and the darkness of the night beyond.

  “Sir.” Holloway ran up to him, Valdinho at his side.

  Relief hit him hard, then dread replaced it. “Did you see Miranda? Tia? Pipia?”

  He shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Valdinho’s face was tearstained. “Tia went backstage to find Pipia. I tried to stop her but I could not.”

  That much he knew.

  Behind them was a loud crash. Flames crackled, tearing through the wall over the brickwork that separated the lobby from the auditorium. The crowd roared with fright and panic.

  “We have to find a way out of here before everyone is crushed to death.”

  Parker glanced to the right, to the left. Not much here to work with. Then he spotted one of the scuptures. The tall silver one. He forced his way over to it, gesturing to Holloway and Valdinho to follow.

  The piece looked heavy. It was attached to its pedestal but the stand wasn’t bolted to the floor. “Give me a hand.”

  The three men bent down and hoisted up the thing.

  “Over there,” Parker nodded.

  Tottering this way and that, they carried the heavy art work over to the transparent glass wall. It was risky, he knew. Even if it worked, backdraft from the oxygen outside would make the flames in here worse, but it was their only chance.

  “Stand back,” Parker cried to the crowd and could only hope they listened. “On three. One. Two.”

  They swung the sculpture backward. “Three!”

  Flinging the heavy piece forward they let go. It flew into the air and hit its target dead on, smashing into the glass with a loud crash that rivaled even the alarm. Splinters flew everywhere.

  Parker covered his face with his arm. “Be careful. Watch out for the glass.” But the crowd ignored him and pushed through the opening and into the night.

  “What are you standing here for?” Wesson hurried past him with Didi still in her arms.

  Holloway and Valdinho climbed out the opening and Parker followed. He left them to help the others escape while he ran up the walkway, scanning the sea of faces. “Miranda. Miranda.”

  An ambulance pulled up to the curb and emergency workers jumped out and began treating the crowd. Two firetrucks he hadn’t seen from inside were already there, shooting streams of water onto flames that were now eating up the roof of the once majestic hall.

  He didn’t see his wife anywhere.

  Where was she? Dear God, where was she?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Miranda wasn’t sure where she was.

  Backstage somewhere but she’d gotten turned around. And the smoke was so thick now she couldn’t see anything. It burned her lungs making her want to gag.

  She dropped to her knees where she could get air. “Tia,” she cried out. But her voice was hoarse and she ended up in a fit of coughing.

  Where had Tia gone? She’d followed her through a door behind the stage, but the scramble of bodies pressing to get out of the space was too much. She’d lost her.

  She’d lost her bearings as the panicking crowd rushed around her. She hadn’t seen Pipia. She only hoped the young woman had gotten to safety somehow. And then the flames and smoke had filled the room.

  Her head spun. She had to get out. Find Tia if she could.

  She began to crawl, feeling her way, her knees burning. She had no way of knowing if she was going toward an exit or back toward the auditorium and certain death.

  She passed a control panel for the lights, banged into a stack of trunks and cases for instruments, then into metal stands and piles of sheet music on the floor. A blast of wind blew a sheet up and it burst into flames.

  She began coughing hard. She couldn’t breathe. Parker. If only she could see him one last time.

  Then she heard a moan. It was coming from up ahead.

  Forcing her brain back to some version of alert she crawled toward the noise. She found a leg, the hem of a dress, a waistband. She pulled herself closer and saw the mass of tangled hair, the jewels still twinkling in the dark strands.

  “Tia. Tia, wake up.” She began to slap at the face.

  Tia roused, opened her eyes. “Miranda.”

  “Why did you run away?”

&nbs
p; “I had to find Pipia. Did you see her?”

  “She’s safe. She’s outside. We have to get out of here.” Miranda hated lying to her but it was the only way to get her moving.

  “Yes. Yes. There’s a door over there, I think.” Tia pointed over her head.

  Miranda blinked hard through the smoky cloud and thought she saw an exit light. She prayed the door wasn’t locked.

  She lifted Tia’s hand. “Can you grab onto me? We have to stay down low. There’s no oxygen if we stand.”

  Tia nodded and slipped an arm around Miranda’s neck.

  She didn’t know how she was going to manage dragging Tia’s weight along with her own but she gritted her teeth, and summoning all the strength she had, she began to crawl.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  His head pounding Parker staggered about the yard staring at the faces in the clusters of people now huddled together, milling about, trying to figure out what had happened.

  One by one he stopped them. “Have you seen a dark haired woman in a silver dress?...Have you seen my wife?”

  But no one had.

  Circling the crowd he spotted a lone young woman in a dark blue dress wandering across the grass, her eyes vacant. Her face was smudged with soot. A violin was in her hand.

  “Pipia,” he shouted and ran toward her.

  She turned to him as if coming out of a daze. “Wade. Graças a Deus I have found you. Where is my mother? My sister?”

  “Didi’s toward the front with the others.”

  “With my mother?”

  “No. We haven’t found Tia yet.”

  She blinked at him as if she was struggling to understand his words.

  His heart broke for the young woman but there was no time to lose. “Miranda. Have you seen Miranda? She was trying to find you.”

  Pipia shook her head. “I came out the side with some of the orchestra people. I did not see her or my mother.” She stared at him open-mouthed, tears beginning to stream down her face.