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Authors: Neil Richards
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Lauren shift her tone.
“The pool house? No. I don’t … know where. And where I went walking that night can’t have anything to do with their stupid arguing. And anyway I have to get back to this. My family is going to be home any minute and they like their dinner served on time.”
Sarah smiled.
Though Lauren hadn’t really told her anything much.
She did get one thing.
That inside this little kitchen, Lauren Dumford had told her anything but the truth ….
The drummer’s wife had a secret.
The big question: what kind of secret?
“Thanks,” Sarah said, turning, while she felt the now-shaken Lauren’s eyes boring into the back of her skull.
*
“A Yank with questions. I’m kinda busy, Mr.—”
“Jack.”
“And what would your questions be about … Jack?”
“Alex Kings’ party, his death. The fighting. All the band. Threats Alex made towards Nick.”
“Crazy Alex … Sad when someone loses it, hmm, Jack ? Alex thinking that was his song. Yeah, sad to see really, all drugged up, accusations flying.”
Wickes held his giant helmet in his right hand as if he might use it as a battering ram to get Jack out of his face.
“I’ve heard that Alex said he had evidence the song was his. Sounds like more than an accusation.”
“Really? Then where the hell is that bloody evidence? I don’t remember Alex ever playing it. Besides, Nick knows his way around building a song. Then he got lucky with that little floozy of his. That’s the music business. And our dear old leader couldn’t handle it.”
Jack nodded.
An elderly couple — the hotel’s normal patrons for its rather old school dinner — walked past the two men. The dapper old man in a waistcoat and jacket, his wife in a crisp dress and pink hat.
Jack waited until they passed out of earshot.
“But what — Chris … what if there was evidence?”
Jack realised that even though Wickes had no interest in answering questions, here he was …
Answering anyway.
“Hmm?”
“You think someone, say Nick, might be a bit worried about that?”
Wickes licked his lips.
Good guitarist — or so it was rumoured. Killer with the ladies.
But the bulbs in his brain — after all the years of partying — might be running a bit slow in turning on.
“Think someone might want Alex gone?”
“Gone?”
“Dead. Tell me — how angry, how upset was Nick?”
Wickes said nothing.
“I—” then Wickes stopped himself. Looked away. “I got plans, Jack. And talking to you is making me late.”
He gave his helmet a heft.
Did Wickes have a short fuse? Jack had felt him getting more taut by the moment.
Jack smiled.
“Just asking questions.”
“Yeah. Right.” Wickes took a breath. “Sure.”
Then he turned and walked back into the Bell Hotel.
And Jack looked down at the now rider-less Harley.
What a beauty.
Then looking back Wickes disappeared into the tweedy hotel …
And thinking : What a liar.
*
Sarah walked up the plank to the deck of Jack’s boat.
The smell of fish drifted up from the open door that led down into the saloon of the Grey Goose.
And the sound of Sarinda’s hit was coming from the depths of the boat.
She went through the wheelhouse, then down the steps into the galley and saw Jack at the small gas stove, while Riley, squatted close by.
“Bit early for dinner, isn’t it?”
Jack turned around, big smile on his face.
“Hey, didn’t expect you. I’ll get another plate.”
“No, I just thought I’d stop by, touch base on this case … that is, if it is a case. Sounds like you’re taking it seriously though, Jack.”
She gestured to Jack’s iPod on its speaker cradle.
“Thought I’d better hear this damned song that everyone’s talking about.”
“And?”
“First I thought it was no big deal. But — second time I played it, I was joining in. And now …”
“You like it?”
“Kid’s got a cute voice. And let’s just say … I appreciate the art that’s gone into the song.”
“Praise
“The pool house? No. I don’t … know where. And where I went walking that night can’t have anything to do with their stupid arguing. And anyway I have to get back to this. My family is going to be home any minute and they like their dinner served on time.”
Sarah smiled.
Though Lauren hadn’t really told her anything much.
She did get one thing.
That inside this little kitchen, Lauren Dumford had told her anything but the truth ….
The drummer’s wife had a secret.
The big question: what kind of secret?
“Thanks,” Sarah said, turning, while she felt the now-shaken Lauren’s eyes boring into the back of her skull.
*
“A Yank with questions. I’m kinda busy, Mr.—”
“Jack.”
“And what would your questions be about … Jack?”
“Alex Kings’ party, his death. The fighting. All the band. Threats Alex made towards Nick.”
“Crazy Alex … Sad when someone loses it, hmm, Jack ? Alex thinking that was his song. Yeah, sad to see really, all drugged up, accusations flying.”
Wickes held his giant helmet in his right hand as if he might use it as a battering ram to get Jack out of his face.
“I’ve heard that Alex said he had evidence the song was his. Sounds like more than an accusation.”
“Really? Then where the hell is that bloody evidence? I don’t remember Alex ever playing it. Besides, Nick knows his way around building a song. Then he got lucky with that little floozy of his. That’s the music business. And our dear old leader couldn’t handle it.”
Jack nodded.
An elderly couple — the hotel’s normal patrons for its rather old school dinner — walked past the two men. The dapper old man in a waistcoat and jacket, his wife in a crisp dress and pink hat.
Jack waited until they passed out of earshot.
“But what — Chris … what if there was evidence?”
Jack realised that even though Wickes had no interest in answering questions, here he was …
Answering anyway.
“Hmm?”
“You think someone, say Nick, might be a bit worried about that?”
Wickes licked his lips.
Good guitarist — or so it was rumoured. Killer with the ladies.
But the bulbs in his brain — after all the years of partying — might be running a bit slow in turning on.
“Think someone might want Alex gone?”
“Gone?”
“Dead. Tell me — how angry, how upset was Nick?”
Wickes said nothing.
“I—” then Wickes stopped himself. Looked away. “I got plans, Jack. And talking to you is making me late.”
He gave his helmet a heft.
Did Wickes have a short fuse? Jack had felt him getting more taut by the moment.
Jack smiled.
“Just asking questions.”
“Yeah. Right.” Wickes took a breath. “Sure.”
Then he turned and walked back into the Bell Hotel.
And Jack looked down at the now rider-less Harley.
What a beauty.
Then looking back Wickes disappeared into the tweedy hotel …
And thinking : What a liar.
*
Sarah walked up the plank to the deck of Jack’s boat.
The smell of fish drifted up from the open door that led down into the saloon of the Grey Goose.
And the sound of Sarinda’s hit was coming from the depths of the boat.
She went through the wheelhouse, then down the steps into the galley and saw Jack at the small gas stove, while Riley, squatted close by.
“Bit early for dinner, isn’t it?”
Jack turned around, big smile on his face.
“Hey, didn’t expect you. I’ll get another plate.”
“No, I just thought I’d stop by, touch base on this case … that is, if it is a case. Sounds like you’re taking it seriously though, Jack.”
She gestured to Jack’s iPod on its speaker cradle.
“Thought I’d better hear this damned song that everyone’s talking about.”
“And?”
“First I thought it was no big deal. But — second time I played it, I was joining in. And now …”
“You like it?”
“Kid’s got a cute voice. And let’s just say … I appreciate the art that’s gone into the song.”
“Praise
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