Read Online The Song Never Dies by Neil Richards - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Neil Richards
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indeed.”
“Hey, ‘La Boheme’ it ain’t. But it’s one helluva ballad. Kinda sad too, when you listen to the words.”
“First love always is.”
“Aha! You know the words too.”
“Chloe played the whole album on repeat every evening last term while she was revising for her exams.”
“The other songs this good?”
“Not a patch on it.”
“Interesting.”
Sarah sat down at the small wooden table and watched Jack cooking.
“No martini tonight?”
Sarah knew Jack’s routines well by now. And an early evening martini was usually compulsory on the Goose.
“Not yet. Got some plans for later.”
“I won’t hold you up then. Shall we see where we are?”
Jack nodded. “Dazed and confused, I’d say. Unless you’ve found out anything.”
The fishy smell was very powerful; then Jack gave the fish a shake in the frying pan.
Then he smoothly slid it onto a plate. Riley didn’t stir.
“Riley doesn’t seem too bothered?”
“Much more used to a nicely charred rib eye. Tried him on fish once — no sale.”
Jack leaned back to the drawers to the left of the stove, turned off the music, then fished out two forks.
He gave one to Sarah.
“Here. Take a bite. Caught it just this morning. Fresh from the river.”
In truth, Sarah wasn’t much of a fish eater herself.
But — as Jack squirted lemon over the fish’s crispy skin, head and tail disconcertingly still in place — she thought: how can I refuse?
And she followed Jack’s example, digging the fork in, and pulling up a piece of the white meat, and just a bit of the lemony skin.
When she tasted it …
Not bad!
“Hmm, tastes fresh … sort of a sweet taste.”
“Never bought fish from any stores back in Brooklyn. I mean, the day boats in Sheepshead Bay always came in loaded, everyday. Nothing like it. This, though …” he held his fork suspended with his second piece — “is a fine trout. Pretty tasty.”
“So …” she said, putting her fork down. She had her own dinner to get to for the kids. “What do you think of this lot? Alex King’s death?”
Jack looked away. His brow furrowed.
It was a look Sarah would best describe as confused.
“Well, doesn’t seem like anyone is telling the truth.”
She laughed at that.
“Tell me about it. They couldn’t act more guilty if they tried.”
He nodded. “But guilty of what? To be honest—”
Sarah smiled at that. “To be honest? I see you have adopted our very useful expression.”
Jack laughed. “When in Rome. But what evidence do we have of anything? That joint in the sauna? Could have been there for weeks. Lot of animosity and threats? Not much else.”
Sarah looked down at the plate, the fish half done.
She thought: I may have to expand my cooking repertoire. They do say fish is good for you!
“So, this early dinner. And no Grey Goose on the Grey Goose? You have plans?”
Jack grinned at that. “You might say that. Who haven’t we talked to?”
Sarah thought for a moment. There had been a lot of other people at the party. No way they could interview all of them.
“I don’t know … the other guests?”
“Think. They’re just guests. Though, as I like to say, never rule anything out. But I’m thinking of someone who was basically part of the band.”
Sarah thought for a moment.
Then she had it.
“The agent. That Carlton chap.”
“Right, Carlton Flame. Managing them as well, sounds like. The man putting them back together, getting the act on the road. Lot of money at stake for him.”
“Is he still in town?”
Jack nodded. “Yup. Talked to Sally at the desk of The Bell. Turns out he’s also staying there. Booked through till Saturday. He’ll be here for the memorial.”
“God, and that’s less than 48 hours away.”
“Right. Then everyone vanishes. Wouldn’t even be surprised if Gail King locks Kingfishers up and leaves Cherringham for a while.”
Now Sarah looked away.
“We don’t have much time.”
“When do we
“Hey, ‘La Boheme’ it ain’t. But it’s one helluva ballad. Kinda sad too, when you listen to the words.”
“First love always is.”
“Aha! You know the words too.”
“Chloe played the whole album on repeat every evening last term while she was revising for her exams.”
“The other songs this good?”
“Not a patch on it.”
“Interesting.”
Sarah sat down at the small wooden table and watched Jack cooking.
“No martini tonight?”
Sarah knew Jack’s routines well by now. And an early evening martini was usually compulsory on the Goose.
“Not yet. Got some plans for later.”
“I won’t hold you up then. Shall we see where we are?”
Jack nodded. “Dazed and confused, I’d say. Unless you’ve found out anything.”
The fishy smell was very powerful; then Jack gave the fish a shake in the frying pan.
Then he smoothly slid it onto a plate. Riley didn’t stir.
“Riley doesn’t seem too bothered?”
“Much more used to a nicely charred rib eye. Tried him on fish once — no sale.”
Jack leaned back to the drawers to the left of the stove, turned off the music, then fished out two forks.
He gave one to Sarah.
“Here. Take a bite. Caught it just this morning. Fresh from the river.”
In truth, Sarah wasn’t much of a fish eater herself.
But — as Jack squirted lemon over the fish’s crispy skin, head and tail disconcertingly still in place — she thought: how can I refuse?
And she followed Jack’s example, digging the fork in, and pulling up a piece of the white meat, and just a bit of the lemony skin.
When she tasted it …
Not bad!
“Hmm, tastes fresh … sort of a sweet taste.”
“Never bought fish from any stores back in Brooklyn. I mean, the day boats in Sheepshead Bay always came in loaded, everyday. Nothing like it. This, though …” he held his fork suspended with his second piece — “is a fine trout. Pretty tasty.”
“So …” she said, putting her fork down. She had her own dinner to get to for the kids. “What do you think of this lot? Alex King’s death?”
Jack looked away. His brow furrowed.
It was a look Sarah would best describe as confused.
“Well, doesn’t seem like anyone is telling the truth.”
She laughed at that.
“Tell me about it. They couldn’t act more guilty if they tried.”
He nodded. “But guilty of what? To be honest—”
Sarah smiled at that. “To be honest? I see you have adopted our very useful expression.”
Jack laughed. “When in Rome. But what evidence do we have of anything? That joint in the sauna? Could have been there for weeks. Lot of animosity and threats? Not much else.”
Sarah looked down at the plate, the fish half done.
She thought: I may have to expand my cooking repertoire. They do say fish is good for you!
“So, this early dinner. And no Grey Goose on the Grey Goose? You have plans?”
Jack grinned at that. “You might say that. Who haven’t we talked to?”
Sarah thought for a moment. There had been a lot of other people at the party. No way they could interview all of them.
“I don’t know … the other guests?”
“Think. They’re just guests. Though, as I like to say, never rule anything out. But I’m thinking of someone who was basically part of the band.”
Sarah thought for a moment.
Then she had it.
“The agent. That Carlton chap.”
“Right, Carlton Flame. Managing them as well, sounds like. The man putting them back together, getting the act on the road. Lot of money at stake for him.”
“Is he still in town?”
Jack nodded. “Yup. Talked to Sally at the desk of The Bell. Turns out he’s also staying there. Booked through till Saturday. He’ll be here for the memorial.”
“God, and that’s less than 48 hours away.”
“Right. Then everyone vanishes. Wouldn’t even be surprised if Gail King locks Kingfishers up and leaves Cherringham for a while.”
Now Sarah looked away.
“We don’t have much time.”
“When do we
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