by Lori Whitwam
“He was busted last year on some drug charges. Nothing big, just some weed. Dash said charges were mostly dismissed, and he got a few hours of community service. Cops knew he wasn’t a serious dealer, more like he bought his own in the Cities and some extra for his friends.”
Marshall seemed relieved, judging by his more relaxed posture and amused snort. “Hell, if we didn’t work with anybody who was ever in trouble with the law, ’specially over a little possession, we wouldn’t have anybody left to hire.”
“I told him the same thing. Didn’t bother me, as long as he wasn’t using while he was working with us,” Trent said. “But I started wondering. What if he had some deal going? It could get a guy in trouble that didn’t have anything to do with us.”
Seth thought about it. “Yeah, but it’s still weird he hasn’t turned up somewhere.”
“Guess all we can do is wait and see,” said Mouse, always the philosophical one.
His statement seemed to close the topic, and after a brief silence Abby spoke up. “Did everybody else get on the road?” She stirred sweetener into her coffee and took a sip.
Trent nodded. “Danny and Jake left a couple of hours ago. Kincaid will call them when the van is released.”
Roberto chewed the wad of sweet roll he’d bitten off and washed it down with some coffee. “Andy left late last night. Or early this morning. He decided if he rented a car from the used car place a couple of blocks over, he could grab a nap and head out early enough to take his Aunt Ana to brunch after Mass. I told him he was nuts, but he said it’d make her happy. He was gone when I got back to the room around one thirty.”
That accounted for everybody, and didn’t tell Seth one more damned thing than he knew before. Trent had no sooner departed than Seth saw Kincaid walking purposefully toward their table. He hoped the man was coming to tell them Kevin had arrived, but apparently it wasn’t his lucky day, despite its promising start.
“I’m going to head over to the police department, talk to the chief. I need to hear about what happened out by the lake last night first, though.”
Seth hadn’t yet had a chance to tell everyone what had happened, but Abby jumped in and took care of it. Marshall looked at the table and shook his head. “Man, we gotta find a way to end this. It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop until we catch somebody or they get lucky and pull off one of their plans. And I’m definitely voting for door number one.”
“There are a couple of things you need to know,” Kincaid said.
“Information’s good.”
“The girl who vandalized the Jeep was supposed to be back in Iowa by now.” The twitching at one corner of Kincaid’s eye indicated he wasn’t pleased to have to relay whatever was coming next.
“Supposed to be?” Abby’s shoulders straightened, as if she were ready to hunt down Pam and make sure she arrived back wherever she belonged, possibly in numerous small, damaged pieces.
“She got on the bus, but never showed up in Des Moines. We think it’s likely she left the bus in Minneapolis.” He sighed and looked somewhat embarrassed. “So, we don’t know where she is right now. We don’t think she had anything to do with the bomb, but it’s another loose end, which I do not like one bit.”
“You’re not the only one,” Abby grumbled.
“The other news I have is about Drew Purcell, and we think it might be significant.”
“Well, he was in Cincinnati,” Seth said. “We knew that. But he also lives right across the river from there.”
“True, but we found some photos and had the club in Chicago pull their security video. Turns out he was there on Thursday night too.”
Marshall dropped his roll onto his plate. “What did he do? Trent never mentioned he was there.”
“No reason for the club security to bother him with it, I guess. Tapes showed him in the lobby. They have to let the public in the lobby once the doors open, because that’s where the ticket office is. There was a slight scuffle when the club security tried to take the sign he was carrying, and finally he gave up and left.”
Abby began drumming her fingers on the table. Seth recognized this as a sign her thought process had kicked into high gear. “So what we need to know is if he was here Friday night. Dash doesn’t have cameras, though.”
“There aren’t any inside the club,” Kincaid said, “but there are a few on this block. Two near the bank, and one in front of a little art gallery. We have somebody pulling those tapes. If we find any sign he was here, we’ll let you know. So far, we haven’t been able to track down his present location.”
Seth felt a surge of hope. This felt like progress. Better yet, it was evidence—even if only circumstantial—which didn’t point to any of his friends. “You know how to reach us. We’d like to hear as soon as you know anything.”
“Absolutely. I’ll let you folks…”
Kincaid’s reply was cut short when shouts erupted in the hallway. The special agent was instantly in full response mode and racing for the door. Seth, Abby, Roberto, Marshall, and Mouse scrambled from the booth and hurried after him.
They found several Emporia police officers running for the open door leading to the basement. Close on Kincaid’s heels, they followed him down the dimly lit stairs. Everyone seemed to be converging on a remote corner, which Seth knew from his many visits to Dash’s held an area known as the “junkyard,” where assorted bits of old or broken equipment ended up.
Karl Briggs, the blond Emporia cop who’d arrived at Abby’s with Sammy Paulsen the day before, stood near the junkyard, facing the approaching crowd. Even in the poor lighting, Seth saw the shocked expression on the man’s pale face. Kincaid reached him first. Karl spoke in a low voice, pointing to a pile of old amps and floor mats. Seth edged as near as he dared, and saw an athletic shoe-clad foot sticking out of the jumble.
Oh, shit.
Kincaid pointed at two of the nearby cops and barked, “You, and you. Come over here and help move some of this stuff. But just enough so we can get a look. Watch where you’re stepping.” The men hurried to comply, and Kincaid’s gaze moved to the rear of the crowd, landing on Sammy Paulsen, whose face was completely devoid of expression. “Paulsen, call your chief and get a medical team over here.” Sammy darted up the stairs, already keying his radio.
Seth positioned himself directly behind Kincaid and could see the equipment pile—and the foot—over his shoulder. When a badly cracked Peavey amplifier was moved, he saw what they’d all feared. Kevin Merinar’s body lay on the filthy cement floor, still wearing the club’s security t-shirt. His face was recognizable despite its macabre discoloration, and a dark stain surrounded his head. Abby tried to maneuver around him to get a look, but he held her back. “You don’t want to see this.”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t want to see. It’s Kevin, isn’t it?” She shouldered him to one side. “Damn. I didn’t want to see that.” She sagged against him, and Seth put his arm around her.
Kincaid noticed them behind him, and lifted a single annoyed eyebrow. “Mr. Caldwell, I’m going to have to ask you and Miss Delaney to step back, please.” As they hastily complied, Dash huffed down the stairs, and Kincaid motioned him over. “Dash, I believe we all know what we’ve found, but I’d like you to confirm for me, please.”
Dash’s face took on a distinctly greenish cast, but he did as Kincaid asked. “Yeah. It’s Kevin.” He hung his head and stepped back. “Damn. I reckon I need to sit down. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He glanced at Kincaid, and the special agent nodded his consent.
After sending two officers to guard the top of the stairs and another to find some portable lights, he turned to Seth, Abby, and their friends. “This is a disaster we most definitely did not need.” Frustration clouded his rugged face.
“Yeah, especially not Kevin,” Marshall muttered.
Kincaid shot him a scathing look. “Nobody’s trying to be insensitive, here. But the folks who will take care of Kevin will be here in a minute. My j
ob is to find out who tried to blow up your buddy, and this development is going to make it harder for me to accomplish.”
Marshall dropped his eyes and apologized.
Seth looked to where Roberto and Mouse were leaning on the wall and thought Mouse looked like he should probably be sitting down. He was dizzy if a crew member suffered so much as a scratch, and this was a whole lot worse. “Do you think we could go back up to the restaurant?”
Kincaid nodded. “I’d prefer it. We need all civilians out of the area. Someone will be up to talk to you as soon as we get the scene secured.” Even as he spoke, the sound of approaching sirens could be heard.
Back at their booth in the restaurant, Abby reached for her abandoned coffee cup. Her hand was shaking. Seth gently took the cup from her and set it aside, threading his arm under hers, and held their clasped hands against his thigh. He looked around the table, but no one seemed to know what to say, so he decided to break the ice.
“I guess up till now we could say everything was a mess, but nobody’d been killed.” He took a deep breath. “But I won’t be surprised to find out Kevin’s been dead since Friday night.” Because, honestly, he’d looked way past recently deceased based on the glimpse he’d gotten.
Abby squeezed his hand. “Which leaves us with two really important questions to answer. One, who was Kevin going to talk to when Trent saw him leave? And two, who stole his phone?”
As usual, she was absolutely right. “Yeah. The answer to either of those would go a long way toward finding out who killed Kevin. And it’s a good bet whoever it was is behind what’s been going on with me.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Abby said, rubbing her forehead. “I have to think. Let me walk through this, and tell me if I get off track.” She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then focused on Seth. “Last Wednesday night, somebody put a drug in the bottle of Jack Daniel’s you bought. They either did it themselves or convinced someone else to do it.”
“Right,” Seth replied. He caught Marshall’s eye, and made sure he held his attention as he continued. “And Marsh probably saved my life that night, staying with me. Otherwise, somebody could’ve finished me off, and I couldn’t have done a damned thing about it.” His voice almost caught at the end, because he realized if he’d died that night, he’d have never made it to Emporia for Abby to run over his guitar.
“Aw, man, I just figured somebody had to hold the bucket, save the poor housekeepers from havin’ to deal with a mess in the morning.” Marshall’s tone was light, but the slight tremor in his voice said he knew how close he’d come to losing a brother.
“Moving right along,” Abby interrupted. She was on a mission. “We know Drew Purcell was in Cincinnati, in Chicago on Thursday, and he’s still furious about losing the copyright lawsuit last year.” She took her hand from Seth’s and warmed up her coffee. Judging by the fact her hand was no longer trembling, he knew analyzing the facts was helping her settle down, even if the subject matter was disturbing. “We also know Pam—remind me to ask Sammy or Kincaid what her last name is, by the way—was in Cincinnati and Chicago, as well as here in Emporia, and she has a rather strong attachment to Seth. We don’t know, however, if either of them knows enough about GHB to be able to poison the bottle, or if they know anything about bombs.”
“Or if they know people who do know about those things,” Roberto said.
“Correct. Okay, about the bomb. It doesn’t sound very sophisticated, based on Kincaid’s report, but I sure wouldn’t know how to make one. We think someone was on the bus during the show and put it in Seth’s bag, believing it would be under his bunk when it was set to go off in the morning.”
“Which is where Kevin came into the picture,” Seth said. “It’s possible he was paid to place it there, in which case his death could be to keep him from talking.”
“Or maybe he saw something, and was killed so he didn’t tell anybody,” Roberto said.
Seth knew he, Marshall, Joey, and Pete had been onstage during the entire show, and Mouse had never left the soundboard. Unless someone had gone out to the bus in the very brief time between when he and Abby left it and when the show started, it put all of them in the clear. He appreciated Abby hadn’t pointed out Roberto, Trent, Danny, and Andy couldn’t account for their whereabouts during the whole time period.
“The bomb goes off at my house, and later Seth gets a text from Kevin’s phone. It informs him the bomber knows he wasn’t on the bus and survived the explosion. It also hints the next time would be a third attempt, which is what clued us in to the whole drugged-bottle situation.”
Mouse, who was starting to get a little color back in his face, jumped into the conversation. “And we don’t think Kevin sent it, because it’d be beyond stupid to send an incriminating text from your own phone.”
“And it looks like he was dead before we even wrapped the show,” Marshall added. Seth winced at the blunt declaration, but knew his friend had a filter problem almost as severe as Abby’s.
“We’ll have to wait for someone to tell us for sure,” Abby said. “But let’s go with that for now. Next, Pam vandalized my Jeep, Sammy told us she is not exactly psychologically sound, and Stacy is in the clear because she’s been dead since November. Come to think of it, Sammy mentioned booze and pills, but I wonder if GHB was in any way involved in Stacy’s death.” She took a huge swallow of coffee. “Holy shit, my head hurts.”
“To top it all off,” Seth said, “somebody was sneaking around Abby’s house during the night.”
Marshall pushed the coffee decanter aside and leaned across the table. “But Seth, there’s one big thing we don’t know. Why? Why is somebody so determined to get you? Because I have no fucking clue.”
“I don’t know, man. I wish I did. Do I piss people off sometimes? Hell, yeah. Purcell hates me enough. Stacy might’ve been vindictive enough. Beyond that, I can’t come up with anything.” If he could dig through the skeletons in his closet, assuming he still had any, and find a reason for somebody to hate him this much, they’d have their answers.
Bob LeFevre entered the restaurant. The middle-aged chief had a “deer in the headlights” look, and Seth wondered if he’d ever had to investigate a murder before.
“Well, folks, we’re seeing a lot of each other lately.” He pulled a napkin from a dispenser on the next table and mopped his forehead.
Seth looked at Abby and saw her jaw tense. If the chief was implying something, she didn’t like it. “Not a picnic for us, either, Bob,” she said. “What can you tell us about Kevin?”
“Not a lot at this point without compromising the investigation, but it’s probably what you’ve been wondering. Looks like someone lured him to the basement and nailed him in the head with a microphone stand.” He looked away briefly, and Seth imagined he was more upset than he was willing to show. In a town this small, he’d probably known Kevin. “Going by the statements everybody gave yesterday, and the condition of the body, I’d pretty near bet my badge he’s been dead since before the end of Friday night’s show.”
“What about his phone?” Abby asked.
“No sign of it.”
“Well, no, there wouldn’t be, would there? It’s not like somebody’s going to kill a guy, use his phone, and return it.” She was rubbing her temples, as if encouraging her brain to hang in there with her a while longer.
“The only other thing I can tell you right now, and I probably shouldn’t, is he had a couple of packages of marijuana on him. They were small quantities, like maybe he was still doing some dealing. One of the bags was found under him, so it could be whoever killed him pulled him down there by asking to buy something.”
“Trent thought so too,” Seth said. He also realized this lessened any lingering suspicion of his road manager. Trent was opposed to any sort of drug use, no matter how minor or infrequent. Buying a bag of weed was the last way he’d use to lure someone to a remote location. “Hey, you might want to call Trent, see if he can think of anything else.
He left right before they found Kevin, and he’s on the way to the airport. You can still catch him for the next couple of hours, though.”
“Thanks, Seth, I’ll do that. We’ll have a team of county guys here soon. We’re going to need help with this.” The chief looked overwhelmed and exhausted. “What about the rest of you? You going to be in town a while?”
“Mouse and I are leaving as soon as you’re done with us,” Roberto said. “Rented a car with a long drive ahead of us.”
“Yeah, that’ll be fine. But you will make yourselves available at any time if we need to talk to you.” the chief said.
“Seth and Marshall are staying, though,” Abby said. “Marsh will drive the bus back when it’s released.” She hesitated, and Seth wondered if she’d be including herself in the recitation of travel plans. “Seth isn’t sure yet when he’s going back to Austin.”
Seth tried not to be disappointed. If she was coming with him, he supposed this wasn’t the way he’d want to be notified of such a significant fact.
The chief, if possible, managed to look even wearier. “All right, just keep me posted.” He ran the crumpled napkin over his brow again. “I swear, keeping track of you people is like shoveling fog,” he muttered as he walked away.
Seth had often thought the same thing.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Marshall reached over and slapped a hand down over Seth’s on the tabletop. He realized his fingers were strumming, as more of the morning’s songs ran through his head.
“Hey, man. You’re writing again, aren’t you?” Marshall’s face broke into a huge grin.
Seth nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“‘Bout fuckin’ time. I thought I was going to have to buy one of those refrigerator magnet poetry sets and see what I could come up with.” Marshall looked at Abby. “See, I knew you’d be a good influence on him.”
