Sonata In Red...

 

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Introduction

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Patricia

Great beginning! Really catches you and makes you want to read more.

dreamingheart

Great start! I really want to find out why she's lying.

Chapter 1 - Tracy Weller

    "For the record, please state your name, profession and residence."

    Tracy Weller stared at the recording device the policeman had touched, as he spoke to her. A haze of tears obscured her vision, but she could make out the glaring, red light burst at his touch through them. She pressed the ragged tissue to her nose trying to stop the flow over her smeared lips.

    "Tracy... Weller. I'm a... Student. Well, barista, if that matters," she said through a sob. "I live at Seven Eighty... or do you mean the dorm? I'm..."

    "Take a deep breath."

    His steady, authoritative voice rocked against her wavering form in the metal folding chair. She did as he instructed. Drew in a deep breath of the frigid air in the room, held it and then expelled it, slowly, from her lungs. It calmed her. Steadied her, for a brief period.

    "Tracy Weller. I'm a graduate student in the Music department. I... also work as a barista at the campus coffee shop, and I live in Wonders hall, room one thirty seven."

    The officer nodded and then gestured to the device on the table between them.

    Tracy laid her hands on the metal table, staring at it, then looking back. The surface of the table was cold, like the rest of the room. Cold, sterile and utterly devoid of emotion.

    "Just tell me what you know about the incident involving Ms. Rebecca Snow, and Mr. Oliver Grant." He instructed.

    Hearing their names was almost enough to draw the grief from her core once again. She forced it down, stuffing it under everything else that she kept buried. She nodded, staring at her hands, willing herself to begin.

    "Ms. Snow was... a great teacher. Smart, funny... vibrant. That's the word my mother would use. She... despite her disability, was a kind, powerful woman."

    It was almost too difficult to force those words out, but as she did, Tracy found the means to go on.

    "I was selected, hand-selected, by Professor Galvan, to study guitar... Spanish guitar, at the University. That's how I met Ms. Snow. The music department isn't very large so it wasn't unheard of for Professors to share the responsibility to teaching students various skills in which they excelled. Ms. Snow excels... excelled in composing. Professor Galvan's expertise is in improvisation. I first came into contact with Ms. Snow and Ollie... Oliver, through her Musical Composition class."

    It wasn't true. Tracey knew that, but it wasn't something she wanted to divulge. The first time she had met Becca and Ollie, was at a Music Department mixer, before the semester had begun. Professor Galvan had insisted that she attend so that she could meet the faculty and other graduate students that she would be interacting with and working along side over the next few years. Becca, confined to a wheelchair, arrived late, with Ollie at the handles pushing her along.

    The mixer was a very forced, stale affair, with most of the people discussing classes, the prospects of so much work and having to practice as well, or what the latest Instagram sensation was posting that day. The one bright spot of laughter in the entire affair was Becca. Tracy could remember how she sat in her wheelchair, acting as if there was nothing wrong in the world. Ollie stood next to her... almost too close, Tracy thought when she first watched them. There was something between the two. Tracy couldn't put her finger on it, like a strangely intimate relationship between mother and son.

    "I... I'm sorry. This is difficult to talk about." Tracy said, covering her pause.

    The officer nodded, gesturing for her to take her time.

    "Ollie... Oliver was attentive to Ms. Snow. She needed help, with her disability. It wasn't... unheard of for students and professors to work closely. Professor Galvan was constantly sending me on errands. Take my suit to the cleaners, Pequeña. Take my vehicle to the car wash. I need someone to accompany me to a staff function, Pequeña, find yourself a nice dress. It was something we all did. Oliver helped Ms. Snow."

    "In what ways?" The officer asked, breaking his silence for the first time since she had begun her statement.

    Tracy shrugged. "In a lot of ways. She couldn't drive herself, so he did. She had some difficulty getting her groceries into her house, so he did. I remember he told me one afternoon between classes that she had a beautiful Steinway concert piano. Tuning it takes a great deal of strength, something Ms. Snow isn't... wasn't known for."

    "So Mr. Grant was strong? Would you say exceptionally?"

    Tracy shook her head. "I don't... maybe? Enough to tune her piano on his own."

    The officer scribbled in his notepad furiously.

    "Is that important?" She asked.

    "It may be. Go on."

    "We helped. We weren't just students. We were assistants. It's a normal thing. That's really all I know." She lied again.

    The officer stared at her, and finally reached over, clicking off the button that kept the device recording.

    "Am I... free to go?" She asked.

    "Yes, but we may have further questions."

    Without saying a word Tracy scrambled up from the cold chair and fled the room.

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