The Liar's Gallery by Aaron Paul Lazar

Author:Aaron Paul Lazar [Lazar, Aaron Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aaron Paul Lazar
Published: 2014-07-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

I sat through the next fifteen minutes of the dance performance. When the drumbeats escalated, so did my heartbeat. Shelby still hadn’t shown when the piece was over.

Byron and I exchanged worried glances, standing quickly and ducking out before the applause died down. When we reached the lobby, Byron collared one of the male ushers chatting with a group by the doorway.

“Where’s Dmitri?” he demanded.

The boy shrugged, pointing to a tall redheaded girl standing in the main entrance.

“Sorry, haven’t seen him. You could ask her, Professor, she’s the head usher.”

We sprinted to her side.

“Excuse me,” Byron said with authority. “Have you seen Dmitri?”

Annoyed, she looked toward the broad open stairway at the end of the hall. “Yeah, the slacker. I think they went up to the practice rooms,” she said. “But he promised to be back after intermission. He’s sure as hell not getting paid for this half of the concert.”

I grimaced. Not getting paid wasn’t all that would come to the handsome Dmitri. “Thanks. We’ll send him back if we find him.” And after I kill him.

Byron’s long legs ate up the stairs. I followed him until we reached the fourth floor. Row after row of practice rooms lined the corridors. The sound of violins, pianos, trumpets, and singers intermingled in a labyrinth reminiscent of my conservatory days. We looked into each of the rooms and came up with nothing.

“There are four more floors of practice rooms. Plus the basement,” Byron said. “Let’s check out the fifth floor.”

We climbed the next set of stairs, a little slower than before because we were both winded. I resolved to start my lunchtime walks again.

The rooms were filled. Beethoven, Bach, Scarlatti, and Debussy wafted through the hallway. No Shelby. No Dmitri.

“Sixth floor?” I said.

He nodded. I pictured the worst. Dmitri kissing her. Dmitri all over her. I wanted to murder him. My anger built. I tried to ignore the fear rumbling in my gut.

Where is she?

We searched every room on every floor, including the basement.

There was no sign of them.

When we returned to the main lobby, the fear in my stomach had sharpened. Images of Shelby being assaulted flashed through my brain. I breathed rapidly, scanning the lobby. The concert had ended and people streamed out of the hall. I pushed through the crowd and stood on my toes, trying to see if she’d come back. Just as I was about to suggest calling the security guards, someone tugged on my sleeve.

“Hi, Gus.”

I spun around to face her, anger and relief flaring in me. “Shelby, where the hell have you been?” My voice was too loud; my tone accusing.

She backed up a step and Dmitri put his arm over her shoulders.

“Hold on there, Professor LeGarde,” he said. “We just stepped out for a coffee. No big deal.”

I ignored his confident smile and pulled her aside. “You went out for coffee?” I said between gritted teeth.

“Uh huh. Java’s. Right next door.” The guilty expression on her face gave it away. She knew I’d worry.

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