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they wanted for clients.”
    “To sell drugs to?”
    Duncan nodded.
    “Rock stars?”
    He nodded again. “Actually it started out with me producing their next CD. They thought it’d be a good idea for ‘Flame’s son’ to produce them. I was in negotiations with the band through a liaison and then one thing led to another. I started selling coke and H for them instead.”
    “So what did the cops find in your apartment?”
    “I imagine it was all the stuff on my computer. Records. Names. Addresses. E-mail correspondence with Snort. Luckily there wasn’t any stash there at the time.”
    “Snort?”
    “Yeah, Snort’s my contact with the Jimmys. I don’t know his real name.”
    Berenger thought of suggesting that Duncan turn State’s evidence in exchange for some kind of deal. He was certain that the DA would be happy to receive some useful information about the Jimmys. Berenger decided to wait and bring it up with Patterson later.
    “One more thing, Adrian,” he said. “Do you happen to recall what you did with the backstage pass from the concert?”
    Duncan looked up, confused. “The backstage pass?”
    “You know, the sticky pass you put on your shirt for the Meet ‘n’ Greet?”
    Duncan shook his head. “I don’t know. I took it off. I ripped it off. It may have been at the theater. I can’t remember. I’m pretty sure I threw it away. Why?”
    “The police claim it was in your father’s hand when they found him.”
    Duncan’s eyes went wide. “That’s impossible! That’s crazy!” he yelled.
    One of the guards reacted to Duncan’s agitated state and moved toward him quickly.
    “It’s all right, officer,” Berenger said, holding up his hand. “He’s just upset.”
    But Duncan continued to rant and rave. “There’s no way that could happen! This is bullshit ! It’s all bullshit ! You, and the goddamn lawyer, and this fucking jail ! You can all go to hell!”
    Another guard joined the first one and they grabbed Duncan by the arms. He began to curse and resist, so they pulled him away from the table and slammed him against the wall. Berenger and Patterson stood and the lawyer shouted at them to handle his client properly. One of the guards announced that “visiting hours were over,” and led Duncan away.
    Patterson was shaken by what had just happened but Berenger had seen it before. The Rock did that to people. Duncan had been there twenty-four hours and already he was losing it.
    As the two men drove off the island in silence, Berenger couldn’t help but think that Adrian Duncan was a mean, spoiled thirty-five-year-old brat who was unappreciative of his mother’s efforts to clear his name.
    He also wasn’t terribly convinced of Duncan’s innocence.
    As they crossed the bridge into Manhattan, Berenger pulled out his cell phone and dialed Tommy Briggs. When his colleague answered, Berenger said, “Tommy, it looks like Adrian Duncan was indeed involved with the Jimmys. See what you can dig up about a guy who goes by the name of Snort.”
    Briggs chuckled. “Okay, I’ll do that. That’s all?”
    “Yeah. Thanks.”
    “Okay. Hey, Ringo wants to talk to you.”
    “Put her on.”
    When Mel got on the line she said, “Spike there’s a package here for you. It was sitting outside the front door when I went out for lunch.”
    “Who’s it from?”
    “Doesn’t say.”
    “Open it.”
    He could hear the tearing of paper and scuffling sounds. Then Mel went, “Ewww!”
    “What?”
    “Spike, it’s… it’s a bunch of wire !”
    “Wire?”
    “No, wait, these are guitar strings —they’re all broken and sticky like they’ve got some kind of goo on ‘em.”
    Uh oh. Berenger knew what that meant.
    “Look, Ringo, give the box to Tommy. Okay?”
    “Okay. Yuck.”
    Berenger hung up and stared out the window as they passed traffic on the FDR.
    “Anything wrong?” Patterson asked.
    “Not really,” Berenger said. “I just received a little message from the Jimmys. It appears