Deadly Night (15 page)

“
Okay, I’ll quit,” I told him. Rapidly becoming one of my very best friends, I didn’t want to be an ass. I’m just having some fun. “So, that’s actually the Jafar dance, huh?”

“
Now, you’re talking!” he beamed. “Lakisha’s all excited about Halloween and shit, even though it’s still three months away. She’s gonna dress up like Jasmine.”

“
So, Jafar and
not
Aladdin?? What gives with that, man?”

“
The beard, dude. I’d have to shave,” he said. “I ain’t ready to do that just yet.”

“
So, Jasmine with the guy she hates….interesting.”

Tom and Tony walked over to join us from across the room, each holding a pastry from a refreshment table on the north side of the lobby.

“
Hey, I’ll just add Abu to go on my shoulder, and we’ll be a’ight.”

“
Yeah, maybe,” I agreed, laughing. Justin’s voice and antics always gets me, as he can make even the most mundane thing sound hilarious. “Here comes the Sultan and Genie if you’re interested in bringing them along.”

Our two NVP partners would be perfect for the parts. Tom’s shoes sort of look like slippers, and his beard is curly like the Sultan’s. So, who knows?

“
Sorry about that,” said Fiona. She and the other girls finally caught up with us. “Michelle and Natalie haven’t seen each other in years, so it took a little longer to catch up.”

She looked over at Jackie’s beau…is that the right word? Anyway, she looked over at Michelle, who nodded shyly. Pretty lady, with strawberry blond hair and emerald eyes. She and Jackie make a great couple, and Michelle’s soft spoken nature seems to blend well with Jackie’s louder personality. Almost a year since they hooked up, I hope it works out.

When we left the building, we gathered briefly in the parking lot to confirm our plans for tomorrow night. Fiona talked with our ‘Dragon Lady’ client this morning, and we’re on for tomorrow night. Yippee!! Yeah, I’m sure all us guys are really looking forward to visiting the inside of Charlain Thompson’s Cumberland River home. At least the girls sound like they’re excited about it.

Ready to split up and head our separate ways, Detective Silver came up and surprised us. Dressed in a tailored dark suit, he had also attended the service…from some other vantage point, thank God. He’s probably looking for anyone out of place, since many murderers down through history have taken an active interest in the funeral services held for their victims. I’ll bet Ed’s disappointed we didn’t actually bury anyone today, since a gravesite visit might lure the killer out of hiding and give our friendly neighborhood dick the elusive edge he so desperately seeks.

Well, maybe not so desperate. After all, it’s the man’s job to be looking for the killer at every opportunity to do so.... But he needed to talk with Fiona for a moment, and she told me briefly she’d called him this morning and left a voice mail message for him. What about, I’d have to wait to find out.

Everyone else decided to leave, except for Tony, who kept me company while I waited for Fiona. We don’t talk as much as we used to, mainly because our days off from our employer are different, and he’s been spending most of his spare time trying to finish his graphic design degree. So it’s good to catch up on things. Besides, he wanted to show me pictures from his latest fishing trip to Gatlinburg. He caught a fifteen pound German Brown he’s quite proud of.

After twenty minutes or so roasting in my gangster suit, Fiona returned to where I stood with Tony, who also simmered under the afternoon sun. He appeared quite grateful to be on his way back to his Civic, parked nearby. Walking hand in hand with my wife to our Camaro, I made a bigger show than usual of opening the passenger door for her, since I caught Ed watching us from near the main entrance.

He must have some other business to take care of inside the church…more possible suspects to interview, perhaps? Anyway, Fiona gave me an amused look once I got in the driver’s side and started the engine.

“
You’re so silly,” she told me, gently grasping my arm, squeezing my bicep. Her way of letting me know she’s mine…my responsibility to love and protect.

“
You want me to lighten up on him?” I asked, wearing the smirk she so dearly loathes. She nodded emphatically. “Okay…I’ll try harder.”

I let out a low sigh. Leaving the parking lot, I felt immensely better. Too much death and sadness. Too much Ed. We rode in silence until we reached the main highway heading south, I-65.

“
The reason I needed to speak with Ed is I had another dream last night.”

Fiona’s reserved tone made me realize she’d been pondering how to bring this up. My first thought was ‘why didn’t you talk to me first?’, but my gut instinct told me not to go there…to have enough faith in my wife that she had a damned good reason to tell him before sharing the dream’s information with me.

“
Okay,” I said, and waited for her to go on.

“
Candi again,” she said, releasing her own sigh. Not a restful night for her, I take it. The faint circles under her eyes should’ve told me that much. “I wish I could go inside her house. Something’s there that can help us find her killer.”

“
Really?”

I made sure my tone stayed neutral, nothing cynical.

“
Yes,” she said, pausing to look at me.

I could feel her penetrating gaze study my expression, digging into my psyche as far as she could. Thank God, I’m often a tough read for her.

“
Candi’s spirit told me last night that the killer is connected with her former life in New Jersey,” she continued. “Mafia. He has something to do with gangland stuff…racketeering, contract hits, stuff like that.”

“
So, Candi was part of the Mafia too?”

I couldn’t picture Candi’s blond cupcake persona busting someone’s knuckles or delivering a Sicilian necktie. But maybe the Jersey girl version could pull that off.

“
No, no…not at all,” said Fiona, shaking her head. “But people she knew were associated with some of the meanest crime bosses in the northeast. That’s what she told me. The evidence to support it lies somewhere in her house…and maybe the killer’s identity is there too. Candi’s image faded away before she could tell me exactly where, or specifically what we need to look for. She seemed frightened…like something was coming after her. Something or someone that doesn’t want us to find it...whatever
it
is.”

“
So, does this mean the Mafia is after
us?”

It seemed really absurd to even pose a question like this. What would any of Candi’s friends have that organized crime would find remotely interesting?

It simply didn’t make sense…not to me, anyway.

“
Not them as a group,” she said, finally, her tone somber, very worried. “But, I definitely feel the killer has mobster connections. And, I know this…the guy has killed before. Before he came to Tennessee. Now it’s up to the police—and Ed, to find him before he kills again.”

All I could do is shake my head. No matter how you look at it, the news keeps getting worse. Much worse.

I would’ve never bothered with rehearsal Sunday night if I didn’t feel my wife and kids would be okay. Safe and sound from a murderous stalker bent on eliminating Candi Starr’s close friends and business associates. Thankfully, Gerard Simms, Fiona’s younger brother agreed to come to our place and spend the night.

I guess most folks would wonder what good that’ll do.

Well, let’s start with the fact Gerard really isn’t little—not in the physical stature sense, anyway. Six-foot six, and two-hundred and forty pounds of steel-like muscle. Not to mention the former Marine holds a third-degree black belt in Karate. He’s good enough to teach classes, so I’d say he’s the next best thing to having a personal bodyguard on hand.

I drove my Harley to Madison, since the normal heat and sticky humidity had subsided somewhat. Seventy-five degrees when I left our house at eight o’clock, the temperature had dropped down to sixty-nine by the time I arrived at our warehouse. Very unusual for this time of year, as the latter half of July can be murderous.

I unloaded my bass and stepped into the building just before eight-forty five. Ricky and Chris met me outside the door to our rehearsal room, smiling while they nodded approvingly. Thought I was fifteen minutes early, and since I didn’t see their cars, I assumed I’d be the first one to arrive tonight. I guess I was wrong.

“‘
Is This The Way?’…awesome tune, Jimmy!” Chris enthused.

“
Thanks, man,” I told him, unable to mask a shy smile. Our kid virtuoso is a great addition, as I mentioned before. But for him to really dig something we created—something
I
wrote pretty much by myself—really threw me for a loop. Humbled and honored at the same time.

“
No, I’m serious, my good man!” he assured me, taking a quick hit from the joint he shared with Ricky. I recognized the rolling paper. “Ricky and I have decided to showcase that tune at number five, when we slow down for a moment after the assault from Primetime, Lil’ Miss Walker, Burnin’ Fever, and Harlequin.”

More heady stuff, since the other tunes were some of Ricky’s and my earliest completed compositions. I’d already heard Chris’s ‘enhancements’ to Primetime and Harlequin, which lifted the tunes to a level no one could compete with. Definitely no other rock bands in the southeastern United States could do it.

“
Seriously, Jimmy, you should hear the violin patches Chris added to Max’s guitar work,” said Ricky, moving over to give me a hearty slap on the back and bring me inside the room. Mongo was just getting started on setting up his drums, and Max was due to join us at any moment. “The parts where Max uses his guitar to create a violin feel with the volume knob trick he does with his pinky? We now have a real violin part which works so much better—even blends well with the twelve-string.”

I’m actually the guy who laid the original acoustic guitar tracks for this one, using a beat-up Ovation twelve-string that records really nice. When we play live, though, Ricky handles all of the acoustic work, since the bass line for this song is what drives the song’s sorrowful groove. It reminds us all of the haunting ballads from the Scottish Isles and the later evolution of that sound in nineteenth century Appalachia.

I came up with the chord progression back in high school, but never finished it beyond adding a mournful melody line. It’s one that’ll tear your heart out...but still catchy too. Just so sad, man, I remember how I once wept trying to work on it in college.

I let it go, and forgot about it until I relocated to Nashville. Not long after I met Ricky, I played the unfinished tune for him and regretted it right away. He went ape-shit over it, and then insisted we start working on it that night. By the time I headed home we had our first finished collaboration.

It’s sort of ironic, looking back on it now, since it turned into one of our finest pieces. The words were mainly Ricky’s creation, who likes things a bit more obscure than what you’ll ever see from me. But the lyrics work. Probably because they came from his heart…talking about the suicide of his twin-sister soon after he arrived in Nashville. Damn near made him pack everything up and return home to Georgia, for good.

Six years later, I’m listening to Chris’s soulful voice…his nimble fingers torturing his violin to where it literally sounds alive and yet also in the final throes of death. It’s enough to send chills up and down my spine.

…
I feel like a blind man with no one

All of my dreams have come and gone

Pulled the flower from my eye

Watched it disappear in the big gray sky…

Max arrived, a lit cigarette balanced dangerously between his lips as he stepped into the room. He grimaced for a moment, listening to the recorded session from earlier, when Ricky overdubbed Chris’s vocals and violin work over Ricky’s voice and much of Max’s guitar work on our demo for the song. We have a real nice mobile 24 track recorder to work with that’s damn near as nice as the big studios along Music Row.

Max is hard to read sometimes, and I thought he’d be pissed off now that his ingenious melodic efforts lay buried to where only a diehard audiophile could hear them. His green eyes flashed for a moment, but then he nodded his approval.

…
I loved you more than anything

For your smile I’d always sing

It brings a teardrop to my eye

To know you never said goodbye

All you left me was alone…

“
It sounds pretty sweet,” he said, after removing the cigarette from his mouth and transferring it to the neck of his guitar, positioned even more precarious between two machine heads. “I like it better this way, as now I can play the lead rift I originally had in mind…. It should fit perfectly.”

He moved over to the stage and hopped onto it, pausing briefly to greet Mongo. Adding a fifth member to the band has changed the dynamics a bit. Mongo and Max have grown noticeably closer since Chris joined, and it appears that Ricky is completely infatuated with our new star. But, hell, who can blame him?

I could be the guy left out in all of this, but at the moment I’m in bliss…I can scarcely believe how damn good this song sounds. Great before, but now…nothing like it anywhere. We may have our signature tune to grab the record execs’ attention at the party a week from Saturday.