Read an #Excerpt from Death in A Major: A Music Lover's Mystery by Sarah Fox (#Giveaway)

Death in A Major: 
A Music Lover's Mystery
by Sarah Fox 
Paperback, 272 pages
Expected publication: February 23rd 2016 by Witness Impulse
ISBN 006241304X

The new season for the Point Grey Philharmonic starts off on a sour note when one of the symphony’s wealthy benefactors drops dead in the latest Music Lover’s Mystery

DEATH IN A MAJOR

When Archibald Major, local big wig and nasty tyrant, drops dead at a post-concert reception, violinist Midori Bishop soon suspects foul play. Although Midori has no intention of getting involved in another murder investigation, that all changes when Jordan—her violin student and the victim’s grandson—seeks her help convincing the police that the real killer is his uncle, a low-level criminal. As Midori digs into the victim’s life, she discovers that he was a man who created discord at every turn, even within his own family, and there is no shortage of potential suspects. When someone close to Midori unexpectedly confesses to the crime, Midori must race to discover the identity of the true killer before an innocent person goes to jail for a crime they didn’t commit…and before Midori herself becomes a victim in the killer’s deadly encore.

AMAZON | B&N

Excerpt:

Standing ovations never got old. Not for me, at least. As Maestro Hans Clausen flicked his baton to signal the end of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 1 in D Minor, the audience rose amid a thundering of applause. A thrill of happiness ran up from my toes, right out to the tips of my fingers. We’d pulled off a successful opening of another season for the Point Grey Philharmonic.

My fellow musicians and I stood as one to acknowledge the audience. I soaked in the appreciative applause that filled the theater, enjoying every roaring second. In time the noise died down and the audience members jammed up into bunches as they tried to file out of their rows and head for the lobby.

With the first concert of the new season truly over, I scooped up my folder of music and wended my way through chairs, music stands, and other musicians until I reached the wings of the stage. From there I made slow progress as I headed down a carpeted hallway with at least twenty other members of the orchestra, many of whom were walking slowly to chat with one another and created a human traffic jam.

Eventually I reached the musicians’ lounge where we stored our instrument cases and other belongings during concerts and rehearsals. I tucked my violin and bow safely away in their case and placed it in my locker. I would take my instrument home with me later, but the night wasn’t yet over.

“Ready to head to the reception?” Mikayla Deinhardt, my friend and stand partner, leaned against the neighboring locker.

I unfastened the clip at the back of my head and let my dark hair fall over my shoulders. “Almost.” I tossed the clip onto the shelf in my locker and shut the door.

As I ran my fingers through my hair to make sure it was free of tangles, first violinist Janine Ko removed a hot pink handbag from her locker. Aggie, a viola player, and Melissa, a flautist, immediately zeroed in on her.

“Oh my gosh! That’s gorgeous!” Aggie gushed.

“Is it a Michael Kors bag?” Melissa asked.

Janine beamed at them. “Yes.”

The women continued to chatter excitedly about the handbag as I secured my locker door with a combination lock.

“Now I’m ready,” I said to Mikayla. But as I turned around, a cascade of blond hair swatted me in the face.

Wincing, I stepped back and hit the bank of lockers. Mikayla grabbed my arm to steady me as I wavered off balance. I blinked and saw Elena Vasilyeva, the Point Grey Philharmonic’s concertmaster, fixing her long and ridiculously gorgeous blond hair right in front of me.

I glared at the back of her head, my distaste for her stemming from far more than getting swatted in the face by her golden locks. Finished with her hair, she now stood with her hands on her hips, talking to two of her fellow first violinists.

“It’s probably a knockoff,” she said, her accented words disdainful. “There’s no way she could afford a real one.”

I realized that she was referring to Janine and her handbag. Unfortunately, Janine realized that too. Her smile faltered and she returned the handbag to her locker, turning her back on the rest of the room.

Anger bubbled up inside of me as Elena swept past Janine and out of the musicians’ lounge, walking—as always—as if she were strutting along a catwalk in a fashion show.

I growled under my breath, my eyes following Elena until she disappeared from view.

Why did she always have to be so snooty? Even if I hadn’t discovered that she was involved with the man I’d fallen for a few months earlier, I still wouldn’t have liked her. She always acted as if she were superior to everyone else. And poor Janine. Elena’s words must have hurt all the more because Janine idolized her. She always hung on the concertmaster’s every word and tried to emulate her hairstyles and fashion choices. Sometimes I wanted to shake Janine. She’d be far better off just being herself.

“Forget about Elena,” Mikayla said, noting my reaction and giving my arm a tug. “Let’s go to the reception.”

“Forget about Elena,” Mikayla said, noting my reaction and giving my arm a tug. “Let’s go to the reception.”

I let her pull me toward the door and we joined the trickle of musicians heading for the theater’s swanky reception room. I did my best to push Elena from my thoughts, not wanting to let her ruin my night. The successful concert had left me with a happy buzz running through my body and I was looking forward to the next part of the evening. Although the Point Grey Philharmonic didn’t follow every concert with a reception, doing so was a tradition for the opening of each season. For our benefactors and season ticket holders, it was a chance to mingle with the musicians and the board of directors. For me, it was a chance to partake of some free food and the occasional glass of champagne.

When we reached the reception room with its red carpet, floor-to-ceiling windows, and fancy arched ceiling, my eyes went immediately to the food tables. I let out a quiet sigh of disappointment when I realized that the spread didn’t include finger sandwiches. Oh well. Mini sandwiches were my favorite party food of all time, but the tables still held an array of other tasty morsels I wouldn’t hesitate to sample.

Several nonmusicians had already arrived and waiters dressed in black and white glided through the room, balancing trays of filled champagne flutes. I nodded a greeting at Dr. Daniel Beaufort, the vice chair of the PGP’s executive committee, and aimed myself at the food tables, Mikayla at my side.

“I’m starving,” I whispered to her, my eyes on the spread of catered food.

Mikayla grabbed my arm to halt my progress. Just in time, apparently. A portly, elderly man stepped into our path, hunched over a cane with a silver handle.

“Good evening, ladies.”

With reluctance that I tried not to show, I tore my eyes away from the free food and focused on the man before us.

“Hello, Mr. Major,” I said as Mikayla added a greeting of her own.

The man smiled, apparently pleased that we knew who he was. It would have been hard not to know, though. I’d never spoken to him before, but I knew perfectly well that he was the PGP’s most generous individual financial supporter. For that reason it was probably a good idea not to brush him off in favor of an enthusiastic attack on the generous plates of food spread out behind him.

“How are you tonight?” I asked.

“Very well indeed. Particularly because of the delightful company.”

As his watery, pale blue eyes raked over me and Mikayla, a smile that could only be described as lecherous pulled at his thin, dry lips. I wanted to gag, but managed to refrain for the sake of the orchestra’s financial future.

“Would you ladies like to join me in a glass of champagne?” He gestured to the nearest waiter, who came over and presented us with a tray of champagne glasses.

“Of course,” Mikayla said. She smiled at the elderly man, but I could tell she enjoyed his company about as much as I did.

We each took a champagne flute from the tray, and the waiter disappeared into the growing crowd.

Mr. Major raised his glass. “To beautiful music and …” His eyes roamed over our bodies again. “… to even more beautiful musicians.”

I stifled another gag and managed a weak, insincere smile before sipping at my champagne. I would need something stronger if I was expected to spend much more time with the old sleazebag.

About the Author

Sarah Fox was born and raised in Vancouver, British Columbia where she developed a love for mysteries at a young age. When not writing novels or working as a legal writer she is often reading her way through a stack of books or spending time outdoors with her English Springer Spaniel. http://www.authorsarahfox.com/

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