I set the mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of Holmes, but he didn't even glance up. I sighed, sat, and stirred my own mug slowly.

"Read these." Holmes' hand shot out, and he handed me two or three of the sheets we had found below the stage. I took them with another sigh, pushed my glasses a little further up my nose (yeah, I still wear my glasses at home), and began to read.

"If, on any occasion, property damages exceed..." I groaned inwardly but kept reading. Finally my eye fell on something interesting. "If, on any occasion, the deaths of five or more employees of the Caldecott Theater brings negative publicity, the following people may collect monetary reimbursement: the current owner, the theater manager, and the resident conductor."

"Holmes!" I cried. "This is it! Read, read right here!" He did and growled slightly, which surprised me.

"Well, now we have a motive, but for multiple people. For all we know, they could be working together. And we still don't know how they're pulling this off."

"And Holmes, there's been no report of the bodies."

He nodded. "You're right."

I fumbled with a cup of hot chocolate that tasted like lead. "Holmes, this is NOT FUN."

"I believe you've already established that fact," he snapped.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Back at rehearsal.

Every nerve ringing, I distractedly raised the music stand a bit. The top popped again, but I was good at getting it put back together.

I stared at Vicky. My sweet, smiling friend responsible for all this? No, way.

Mr. Johnson was standing behind us. Mr. Hailey was up front. George was vacuuming, again. Ms. Basil was in the balcony, again. And this was getting scary. Again.

As we took the music from "measure 38" (again) I heard it. A soft, breath of air and an almost inaudible *whiz!*. But the orchestra started playing and I convinced myself I was imagining things.

Rehearsal ended, and Rachel groaned. She was pale and she staggered off the stage.

My heart was beating in my mouth and I turned to Vicky. "What are you doing?" I snapped, "That's MY flute case."

"Oh, um, yeah, sorry." She handed the unopened case to me. With a determined sigh, Vicky opened her own case, then smiled. She looked incredibly relieved as she packed her flute up. No sign of a black rose!

I felt relieved too. At last, this was over. Holmes, already packed up, hurried back to me.

"Well?" he said.

"No black rose!" I whispered gleefully and pressed my cheek against my flute. I leaned back and sighed.

"Don't you realize what that means?" he hissed.

"No." I said, closing my eyes. Gad, I didn't feel too good.

"She's the one!"

"Vicky?" My eyes snapped open. "Oh, no WAY!"

"She's the only one who hasn't gotten a rose yet. And now she's first flute, isn't she?"

"Holmes, she's not the kind of person who would DO something like that."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" I stood, my head pounding. Whoa, hold on, I stood up too quickly. Little black dots fizzed in front of my eyes and I took a deep breath, trying to stay upright. "She's not the one, Holmes."

I turned and slammed my flute case on my chair, and flicked it open.

My hands began to tremble and my throat went dry. I could feel the blood pounding through my veins.


A black rose.


The ground tipped violently beneath my feet, and then everything went black.