Cherringham--Killer Track

by Matthew Costello

  Alfie’s grin returned. “Besides Nick Taylor? No, officer, I don’t.”

  Something about Alfie’s attitude struck Sarah as strange.

  “Alfie, you aren’t worried about the band? I mean, this is a big weekend.”

  “The band? Well, see, there I might disagree with you. Sure, big weekend, big night tomorrow. But the ‘band’? Well, now Jess and Ryan are an item, the band’s just two people and me with a guitar. That’s the way I think they see it.”

  “Really?” said Sarah. “That’s kinda sad.”

  “Last few weeks, that’s how it’s been,” said Alfie, flicking the stub of his rollie onto the stage floor and grinding it in with his boot. “The two of them. And me.”

  “Not too happy about that?” Jack said.

  Alfie took a second to answer. “There will always be other bands, Jack. A good guitarist, like me, will never go hungry.”

  And Sarah thought: not the image that Unlost projected to their fans. The closely bonded trio … not that at all.

  “Speaking of Jess … you ever hear of Declan Welch?”

  Alfie had pulled out his pouch of tobacco, and, with the skill of an experienced old-timer, had started rolling a second cigarette.

  “That piece of garbage?”

  Sarah gave Jack a look. We just hit something.

  “How do you know him?” Jack asked.

  “Jess’s ex. Nasty, violent. How she was ever with him, beats me. Makes me think … Ryan, underneath that sensitive image, he must have an edge too.”

  “I take it,” Sarah said, “that the breakup didn’t go well.”

  A coughing laugh this time. “You think? Guy like Declan … doesn’t take getting dumped too easily.”

  “You seen him around, Alfie?” said Jack.

  “Here you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure. He’s got himself some kind of job on the clean-up crew so he can keep an eye on his ex, I reckon.”

  “He been bothering Jess?”

  Sarah saw Alfie shrug, as if it wasn’t his problem.

  “One last thing,” she said. “Last night, I hear you had a late one.”

  “That’s right. Had a few beers with some old friends. Back in Cherringham.”

  “You didn’t happen to see anyone hanging round the Unlost truck? Earlier, maybe?”

  “Wasn’t there last night. Didn’t see it. Got my car, haven’t I? Nothing in that van for me.”

  Sarah nodded. Wouldn’t be hard to check his alibi, if it came to it. For now, maybe not the best moment to push any more.

  At that Alfie turned.

  “Hey, got to get ready for the sound check. The other two’ll be here soon. Good luck in your investigative endeavours. But, as for me, I couldn’t care less.”

  Alfie then walked to the side as if — probably feigning the moment — he needed to speak to one of the techs on the stage. But when Sarah turned to Jack, she saw him looking out at the area in front of the stage.

  “Wow. That was … interesting,” he said. “But I see our next target, over there.”

  “Working the phone,” Sarah said, following Jack’s gaze and seeing Zak Petersen pacing and gesturing, with the phone tight up to his ear.

  “Let’s go interrupt that conversation,” Jack said. And they walked off the stage, the other two Unlost members due soon.

  *

  Sarah watched Jack plant himself squarely in front of the PR man.

  She saw Petersen look up, nod dismissively, and continue with his conversation.

  Sarah knew well, with Jack, that wouldn’t fly. She watched him reach up and — as if removing a fly from the man’s cheek — gently push the phone away from the yammering PR guy.

  Sometimes it was just too much fun to watch Jack at work.

  “Mr Petersen, I’m afraid we need talk to you … right now.”

  And with Jack towering over him, Zak responded with a quick nod and muttered into his phone: “Call you right back.”

  “Good,” Jack said. “You do know we’re looking into the fire, the Unlost van?”

  “Oh yes. Gotta tell you, fans out there, reading about the festival? They just love that story, sharing it like crazy.”

  She saw Jack turn and give her a look, as if saying: Is this guy for real?

  “Story?”

  “Yeah, I mean the accident, Ryan saving himself, the show goes on? Totally great stuff.”

  Sarah couldn’t resist. “You think the fact that this fire was a good thing?”

  For a moment, Sarah’s question, and the judgement implied, didn’t register.

  “What?”

  Sarah had to add. “Ryan Crocker almost died.”

  “Um, oh yes. Well there is that — but he didn’t, did he?”

  Now her turn to look at Jack. Her own eyes rolling.

  “We wanted to ask you, Zak,” Jack said, “I mean, you are covering this whole thing, working with the media outlets, all over this place so to speak.”

  Zak beamed at what he mistakenly took to be a compliment.

  “That I am. Great gig.”

  “Well, in your work these last few days, speaking to people,”

  Jack paused, seeming to give time for his question to register, “did you hear of anyone who might want to hurt the band, or any of the members?”

  Zak looked genuinely gobsmacked at the idea.

  “What? No. You’re not saying that the accident, might be connected to—?”

  Sarah was quick to add, “We’re not saying anything, Zak. We’re asking.”

  Petersen looked away. “I mean, you get your usual nasty tweets here and there, but, I have to tell you … What happened … The accident … Well it’s really touched a lot of people. Especially coming on the heels of their new release.”

  Now it was Sarah’s turn to be surprised. What exactly was Zak saying here?

  “Explain?”

  “The new song on their EP: ‘Phoenix’? About a fire. Then to have an actual fire, I mean … pretty amazing, right?”

  At that, Sarah felt a chill.

  “But as to your question? No. Heard nothing but good things about the band, the three of them. Well, maybe Nick Taylor’s still grumbling,” Zak laughed. “Guess that’s what old dinosaurs do!”

  Sarah nodded.

  She kept thinking about what Zak had said. The Unlost song about a fire.

  A coincidence? But Jack had always said, be very wary of coincidences. Because they are often anything but.

  “Look, can I get back to my call? Big story.”

  Sarah nodded. She hadn’t expected Zak Petersen to have anything useful to tell them, but, what he’d just shared seemed important.

  “Sure,” Jack said. Then he added pointedly: “We know where to find you if we have any more questions.”

  And at that, Sarah looked up to see the Unlost members gathering on stage for their sound check.

  As Petersen walked away, phone again glued to his head, she turned to Jack.

  “What he just said — about that song?”

  “I know. What you’re thinking, I’m thinking too. We gotta dig into that.”

  “I mean, could he have planned the fire to help push the EP?” said Sarah.

  “Crazy, I know. But it is a motive,” said Jack. “Okay — what now? I’m running out of ideas.”

  “Hey, we have an all-areas pass. Want to watch the band do their sound check from the wings?”

  “Sure. That mean they’re about to play?”

  “Think so. Half an hour maybe.”

  “Maybe after their set, we hit the cocktails tent, talk through this fire thing? I hear they are making martinis over there with Cherringham gin.”

  “Great,” Sarah agreed, and, showing their passes, they made their way to the wings, stage right, through the scattering of early Unlost fans, as the moon bathed the stage in a muted light.

  10. Sparks Fly

  Sarah stood close to Jack, in the shadows, as Ryan Crocker walked around th
e band’s instruments and looked down to the small speakers on the stage, used — she knew — so they could hear themselves as they played.

  Jess was at a standing keyboard and microphone, a laptop by its side. The singer leaned forward, then stopped, adjusting the mike’s height once, then again.

  Did she look rattled? Maybe knowing that her ex — with a penchant for violence — could be out in the growing crowd out there somewhere?

  So, yes. Maybe any nervousness Sarah saw in her could be due more to that fact than about the performance to come.

  She leaned into Jack as Jess hit some notes on the keyboard, the sound piercing in this more enclosed space.

  “They all look edgy to you?”

  “It’s a big moment. Big night — even bigger tomorrow. Guess anyone could be expected to be a little tense?”

  “If that’s all it is,” she said quietly. Across the stage, she saw a few members of Lizard also in the wings, stage left. A couple of their tech guys were with them — huddled together, smoking, looking on.

  That alone could make Unlost uneasy, she thought.

  Alfie stood off to the side, his guitar not connected to anything yet; but he kept looking down, noodling on the strings, music only he could hear. She thought about their chat with him, and now, on stage, he did look like a third wheel, standing apart, aloof.

  And, all in all, Unlost — on this moonlit night — looking kinda lost.

  “Ever see a sound check before?” Jack said, leaning down, speaking into her ear. “Few times, back in Manhattan, was a bonus of being on duty — saw Clapton warm up when he played the Ritz.”

  “Clapton? Wow. When I used to come here I loved the sound checks. Always a way to see another side of your favourite performers.”

  She saw Jack nod, then turn to look out at the crowd, already growing fast. Twenty or so yards from the stage she could see the mixing desks of the front of house in their little tented area, figures moving in the eerie glow from the deck lights.

  She turned back, to see Ryan, clearly the leader, prowling the stage. He walked over to Jess, patted her shoulder. A warm smile. Maybe he sensed her tension as well?

  No similar treatment for Alfie though who — she saw — had taken a cable from a stage hand and plugged it into his guitar.

  Then, as if to interrupt whatever tête-à-tête was going on with Jess and Ryan, Alfie gave the guitar a hearty strum, making a chord rumble so loud and deep that Sarah could feel it in her stomach.

  Ryan turned at that, his smile fading.

  The message from Alfie was clear: Let’s get this thing over with. He shot a quick glance back at the other band members — gave a nod, an insincere smile.

  Sarah watched as Jess now stepped over to a rack of guitars on stands, picked one up and slung it over her shoulder.

  “What? She plays guitar too?” said Jack. “Thought she was keyboards and vocals?”

  “Dunno. Maybe on a couple of tracks, for a different sound?” said Sarah, watching Jess wander back across the stage as if looking for something.

  Ryan went to his position centre stage. Sarah saw a cable at Ryan’s feet, for his guitar no doubt. Then he looked over at Alfie, hanging slightly back.

  “Good to go, Alfie?”

  In response, the guitarist gave a thumbs-up.

  Things looked all set.

  And now she watched as Ryan Crocker grabbed a cable, and took it over to Jess. He then bent down, picked up the cable at his feet, plugged it in. In a moment, all three of them would be plugged into the sound system.

  Just a sound check, Sarah thought, but still, exciting. She noticed that Jack seemed quiet. As if he was alert.

  Jess plugged the cord into her guitar, going last, all eyes on her as she stepped back to the laptop, and hit a key, unleashing an orchestral sound that filled the space.

  Even off stage, on the heavy rubber mats laid out across the grass, people stopped talking, pausing to watch as Ryan adjusted the dials on one of the amps, killing some feedback.

  Jess ran her fingers across the nearby keyboard — the piano sound clear and bright. Sarah heard Ryan’s next words.

  “Guys — all ready to go?”

  She saw Ryan look over to the mixing desk. Nods exchanged, and a bit of whine as Jess’s mike suddenly became live. Sarah heard Jess, her voice a haunted whisper even as she said so quietly, “Check, check …”

  The sound crystal. Then Jess leaned forward and sang a few lines a capella, her dreamlike voice carrying well beyond the stage.

  Then, check done, she stepped back from the keyboard, slung the guitar round so she could play it, strummed a chord.

  Nothing happened.

  She turned to Ryan.

  Sarah saw him nod, walk over to Jess’s amp, and plug in a lead.

  A flash of white light exploded from the amp, and a billow of sparks erupted from the cabinet.

  Ryan spun round and ducked down, shielding his face from a blizzard of sparks that now fizzed and spurted from the cable that led to Jess’s guitar.

  Jess fell backward, her hands flying into the air, then more sparks and explosions from the guitar — as if it wasn’t a musical instrument but an out-of-control firework.

  *

  In those first seconds, sparks flying, growing more terrifying, it seemed to Sarah that no one moved — as if stunned and frozen by the display.

  But someone did move.

  Jack bolted onto the centre of the stage.

  And Sarah’s first thought was: Jack, don’t!

  In a mere moment, he was there. Jess struggled to pull the guitar strap over her head, the cable sparking all over.

  Ryan stood frozen near her, mouth wide — clearly too shocked to do anything.

  Jack grabbed the cable that looped to the amp and — like ripping a snake away from someone it was about to bite — he roughly yanked the flashing cable out of Jess’s guitar, and staggered back.

  In the next seconds, crew rushed over to Jess, who stood there, looking down at her guitar as if that was the only thing to be concerned about.

  Not her own life.

  Sarah hurried over to Jack. “What just happened?”

  But Jack was watching everyone on stage, this incident turning the orderly stage into a confusing mix of people looking around, raising hands in disbelief.

  No way that was just an accident, Sarah thought.

  She saw Ryan still standing as if in shock. Then he moved close to Jess. “Jess! You okay?”

  Jess nodded. “I’m fine.” Then Ryan turned, and seeing Sarah, Jack too, he said loud enough for anyone to hear: “Guess for some of these idiots here, that’s what passes for a practical joke.”

  Alfie walked over. “You okay, Jess?”

  “Never better, Alfie. So … let’s—”

  Ryan looked around as a couple of the crew came over and rolled the damaged cabinet offstage.

  “Hey, man — don’t know how the hell that happened!” the roadie said. “We’ll switch the gear; won’t take a minute.”

  But then Sarah heard the gravelly voice of Nick Taylor from the side.

  “Guess you kids should learn how to check things out before you start to play?”

  Would Ryan rise to the bait? Jess had said he had a temper. But Sarah saw Jess quickly clasp his left hand, high on the neck of the guitar.

  “Ryan. Let’s just do the sound check? Move on?” Then, as if she herself didn’t believe it, “Just a freak accident, okay?”

  Sarah watched Jess take a new cable and guitar from the roadie, and plug it into the replacement amp, as she got ready to finally play for the sound check.

  Now, Sarah knew, everyone was rattled.

  As she turned to look at Jack, she saw over his shoulder, at the edge of the crowd, in the shadows, the figure of Declan Welch.

  Arms folded. Face blank. Eyes locked on Jess.

  As she watched, Declan’s head turned slowly her way, as if some instinct had told him he was being observed — and Sarah reali
sed he was now looking directly at her.

  The eyes so chilling.

  “Jack,” she said. “Over there.”

  But before Jack could turn — she saw Declan swivel and slip away into the darkness outside the marquee.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost,” said Jack.

  “Or maybe a killer,” said Sarah.

  11. Phoenix

  Jack stood at the back of the crowd watching Unlost as they launched into another number, this one upbeat, even danceable, at least for those who jostled together at the front of the smaller stage.

  Their set was going down a storm with their fans — the scary drama with the amp and cables of an hour ago, now, it seemed, totally forgotten.

  Half way through the show and he had to admit — he was loving it. Sure, it wasn’t his beloved opera — or any of those great classic rock acts he’d grown up with as a teen back in Brooklyn.

  And — funny — he didn’t really have the words or the references to quite nail what he’d call this music they were playing.

  But it was melodic. Passionate. Committed. And definitely original.

  Like all the very best music he loved.

  Through the crowd, he caught a glimpse of Sarah near the front, dancing with Daniel.

  Amazing how those two get on, he thought.

  And not a hint of shyness — mom and son just having fun together like this.

  The image sparked a bittersweet memory — Jack back in New York, with Kath and their daughter Emily. Backyard picnic, boombox playing while the barbeque sizzled …

  Jack took a breath.

  Time to keep my focus, he thought.

  He started to move around the edge of the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything — anyone — who looked like they could put the band in harm’s way.

  Anyone not enjoying this carefree vibe.

  Jess and Ryan had said it wasn’t necessary for them to stick around, that the cable thing had to be just an unlucky accident.

  A second unlucky accident.

  But Jack certainly didn’t believe that — and he’d already texted the stage manager Becky to ask her to put all the cables to one side after the show so he could check them out tomorrow.

  With the key question, accident or not?

  For now, though, he felt the best thing he could do was just act like he was back in uniform — stay low-key, act invisible, keep alert.