“Why not? It makes just as much sense as what you’re saying. Belinda wasn’t the only one who visited Vinnie at the condo. You were there, too. You were also at the Rock Hall the day the light fell.”
“But not until after the light fell.”
I guess Damon hoped I wouldn’t notice the flaw in his logic because he went right on. “You were in the car with Belinda last night. You were at the recording studio. Your apartment was broken into, too. What if the killer isn’t after Belinda? What if he’s after you?”
If what Damon said was true (and it was hard to argue, which was why I kept my mouth shut), it was exactly what I had warned him would happen the day he first asked for my help. My cases always resulted in some whacked-out psycho trying to make sure I took up permanent residence at Garden View.
With that in mind, I knew I was completely justified bringing up the I-told-you-so element.
I didn’t. For a couple of reasons. One was that admitting he might be right and there was a killer after me freaked me out too much. The second reason? There was so much concern in Damon’s expression, so much pain, I knew he felt responsible.
“No way is anybody after me.” I tried for glib, but even to my own ears, I came off sounding as uncertain as I felt. “What would they want?”
“What difference does it make? You’re not going to that concert tonight.”
“Don’t be crazy. I have to go. It’s my last chance to investigate.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Nobody’s going to try anything in front of ten thousand people.”
“But they could.”
“But they won’t. And why bother?” I clung to what I saw as a logical argument because it was better than giving in to fear. “I sure don’t know anything about you dying. Heck, I wasn’t even born yet. And I don’t know anything about Vinnie’s death, either.”
“But maybe the killer doesn’t know that.” When I didn’t counter this straight off the bat, Damon figured he had me. “I’m going to the concert tonight,” he said, his words ringing with authority. “You’re staying home.”
“But—”
“You’re not going.” I guess he thought maybe I’d understand it better if he spoke slowly and pronounced each word carefully.
I did, but it wasn’t going to stop me. “But—”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Pepper.” It took every ounce of self-control Damon had to keep his voice to less than a dull roar. Just as quickly, it dropped to a whisper, and every syllable percolated with emotion. “I love you too much.”
Affairs of the heart always trump logic. Especially since it was my heart we were talking about. I gulped down the sudden knot of emotion in my throat and got all set to reply even though, truth be told, I didn’t have a clue what I was going to say. Turned out that it didn’t matter. I never had a chance to answer. Before I could, Damon winked out.
Just like he had back when Vinnie was channeling him.
“Damon?” I called to him and turned to look around. Just as I turned back, he flickered back in the exact spot where I’d last seen him. I rushed closer. “What’s going on?”
A stab of pain twisted Damon’s face. His right hand curled into a fist. “I don’t…” Static interrupted him. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You’re not—?”
He was gone again before I had a chance to finish the sentence.
For what was probably less than a minute but felt like forever, I stood there in the shadows of the tall headstones, wringing my hands and wondering what to do next. I had just decided that I didn’t know when I heard a noise like the roar of wind, and Damon showed up out of nowhere. He was lying on the grass, panting and writhing in pain.
I knelt beside him. “You’re not being channeled, are you?” I asked him.
He tried to respond, but it was clear from the start that it hurt too much. Because he couldn’t talk, he simply looked at me, his eyes pleading for help, his mouth pulled into a grim line.
Then he screamed and disappeared completely.
Shaking and sobbing, I sat back on my heels. This time, it didn’t take me any time at all to make up my mind about what I was going to do.
I was going to get to the bottom of things once and for all and find out how, even though Vinnie was dead, Damon could be channeled.
I was going to put an end to his suffering and stop him from fading any further.
I was going to that concert.
Even if there was a killer waiting there for me.
“I’m so glad you decided to come with us!” Watching her daughters find their way to their seats on the bleachers that had been set up in the wide plaza outside the Rock Hall, Ella hunkered into her winter jacket and beamed a smile at them, then turned the same expression on me. “I’ve always felt like you’re one of the family. And the girls are thrilled to have you here. They really look up to you, Pepper. You’re their role model.”
I don’t think she would have said that if Ella knew I wasn’t there for blast from the sixties past, but to catch a killer.
“I appreciate the ride,” I said, because I couldn’t explain about my case and I really was thankful for her help. Once my car got dragged out of the mud, it had ended up in a garage so its underside could be checked for damage.
The girls had gone over to the right, and my seat was with theirs, but I had no intention of sitting down any time soon. There was time yet before the concert started, and I needed to find Belinda. I stepped to the left. “I’ll meet you after the show, over by—”
“You’re such a card!” Laughing, Ella wound her arm through mine. “You’re not going to have to meet us. We’ll be together. Weren’t we lucky to be able to get one more seat in our row? It’s perfect. At intermission, we’ll grab some hot chocolate—my treat. I want to talk to you about a cemetery conference in Chicago. Don’t get too excited.” She patted my arm. “I’m not sure if I can fit it into my schedule but maybe, maybe you can go in my place. Then when the show is over, I promised the girls we could go into the gift shop and pick up a few Mind at Large CDs. I know they’re going to love the band.”
“And I am, too. I promise.” I untangled my arm from hers. On our way over to the plaza, I’d noticed a long line of Porta Pottis set up across the street. I looked that way. “I need to go over there first,” I said. As if. “I’ll be right back.”
Ella couldn’t argue, and since she was shorter than me, she couldn’t keep an eye on me when I started out across the street, then turned sharply to head in the opposite direction. I skirted the fringes of the crowd, then cut up the aisle farthest to the left to head closer to the stage.
I actually might have gotten all the way there if a guy in a yellow jacket that said Events Staff on it in big black letters didn’t step into my path.
“Hi!” I sparkled.
He’d been well-trained. He was immune.
I looked past him and what I could see of the maze of backdrops, props, and sound equipment that lined the path backstage. “I’m with the band,” I said.
“Right.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody gets back there. Not even cute chicks.”
“You think I’m cute?” It was a minor victory of sorts so I tried the sparkling routine again. “We could have a drink after the show.”
“We could. But that’s not going to get you backstage.”
My lip curling, I backed off.
Lucky for me, just as I did, I caught sight of a flutter of color behind one of the amplifiers. I wasn’t sure, but it looked enough like a gauzy purple skirt for me to take the chance.
“Belinda!” I raised my voice and called, and when she poked her head out and saw me, I waved. “I need to talk to you.”
I think Security Guy was going to argue, but since Belinda was already backstage, there wasn’t much he could say.
When he stepped aside, I grinned. “Told you,” I said. “I’m with the band.”
A seco
nd later, I stepped backstage and straight into pre-concert chaos. Roadies and technicians scampered all around me, their arms laden with guitars and microphones and what looked to be miles of heavy black cable. There were extra clothes hanging from a nearby rack, a change of denim shirt (Pete’s usual attire), a couple of jackets in case one of the band members got cold, even an extra cowboy hat. I had no doubt it belonged to Alistair. Mighty Mike’s bottle of Southern Comfort was out on a table, but there was no sign of Mike or any of the other Mind at Large members.
“Is everything okay?” I asked Belinda.
Much to my surprise, I actually got a straight answer. Sort of. “You mean, has he been back? Not since he tried to make the car swim. I’m not worried.” Her stringy hair flapped around her shoulders when she shook her head. “Pepper helps me hide from the man with the kitty cat feet.”
I was grateful for even this much clarity. “That’s right,” I said. “I helped you hide. And I’ll keep you safe, Belinda, but to do that, I need your help. I need you to think very hard, about the picture of Damon that was in your living room. You remember, the one you took of him the night he died.”
“I remember that night.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I loved him. We’re soul mates.”
“Then you can do something to help him. You want to help Damon, don’t you?”
“Help?” She tipped her head, studying me. “He’s in trouble?”
“He is. Yes. Someone’s trying to hurt him. You have to think, Belinda, you have to tell me what was in that picture. Besides Damon, of course.”
Belinda closed her eyes. She chewed on her lower lip. And I held my breath. She’d had nearly forty years to memorize every inch of that photograph. She had to know—
“A ball. Like the sun.” When she opened her eyes, Belinda looked pleased with herself. “Shiny.”
I won’t repeat what I said in reply.
While I tried to think of a way to get through to her, I stood there grumbling under my breath. It might have been easier to see my way clear if I could think straight. But every time I tried to order my thoughts, an image of Damon formed in my head. I saw him the way he looked that morning at the cemetery.
Someone—or something—was tearing at Damon’s spirit. He was in torment.
And I was the only one who could help.
My heartbeat racing, I scrambled for a plan. But before I could come up with one, a curious thing happened.
I heard a chirping sound.
“What was that?” I asked Belinda, but I was wasting my breath. She’d already lost interest in me. She was wandering around, mumbling to herself and getting in everyone’s way.
I heard the chirping again.
It sounded awfully familiar.
My head bent, the better to listen and let the sound guide me, I wound my way through the maze of equipment and farther backstage and hey, who could blame me for feeling as if I was on the right track?
Because as strange as it seems, I actually recognized that sound.
It was one I’d heard back at the recording studio.
Right after someone tried to blow our heads off.
Chapter 18
I found myself all the way at the far end of the plaza, behind and under the stage in a makeshift sort of room. Just beyond the perimeter of tarp someone had the good sense to drape all around to block the wind, the ground sloped. When a stiff breeze blew the tarp, I could see the sharp drop into Lake Erie. There was a table in the room with the remnants of a couple of party trays on it. Bread, luncheon meat, pickles. Someone had spilled a two-liter bottle of Coke, and it pooled on the table and drizzled to the floor.
Even as I stood there looking around, I heard the chirping noise again. It was coming from a phone that had been left atop the piano directly across from where I stood. A phone that was also a walkie-talkie. That wasn’t the only thing on the piano. There was a fat, black candle there, too, and a framed photograph of Damon. One I’d bet any money had been taken right off Belinda’s wall.
I had already made a move toward the piano when I heard a voice from somewhere out in the maze of jury-rigged hallways.
“How the fuck am I supposed to answer the damned thing when I can’t find it?”
When Gene Terry hurried into the little room, he found me with the picture of Damon in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.
I could have tried to come up with some bullshit story, but there really didn’t seem to be much point. Instead, I held up the phone for him to see.
“I think that’s actually my question. What the hell were you doing there? When the roadie called you to get over to the recording studio after the shooting, you were already there. I heard your phone.”
He yanked the phone out of my hand and shoved it into the pocket of his suit coat. “Yeah, and I’m the only one in America with a walkie-talkie.”
Was I discouraged by this little piece of logic? I was not. Because, see, there was still the photo of Damon to consider. Gene didn’t give me a chance to mention it.
“Are you done?” he asked in a way that said if I wasn’t before, I sure was now. “We’ve got a show to do and you have no business being back here.”
There was no use arguing the point. Except for the whole bit about truth and justice, of course. I was still clinging to the photograph, and I turned it around so that Gene could see what I could see.
“A ball. Like the sun. Shiny,” I said, pointing to the man just barely visible in the background of the picture. He was bald and his head…well, it looked like Belinda knew what she was talking about after all. His head looked like a shiny ball. “You were supposed to be in Pittsburgh that night.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gene ripped the photo out of my hands and tossed it on the table with the band’s leftover dinner. “So I’m in some old picture of Damon. So what?”
“So maybe that overdose Damon took wasn’t accidental. Otherwise, I don’t think you would have lied about the trip to Pittsburgh. Damon was leaving the band and I’ll bet you were plenty pissed. Your gravy train was about to hit the skids. It all makes so much sense, I’m amazed I didn’t think of it sooner. Then again, Damon doesn’t know you’re a liar. He believes you were exactly where you said you were. If he suspected you weren’t in Pittsburgh, he would have said something to me about it.”
Just as I expected, the comment got a rise out of Gene. His eyes flew open, but I had to give credit where credit was due. He knew better than to lose his cool. He laughed. “What are you smoking, kid? No way you could have talked to Damon. He’s been dead since before you were born.”
“Dead, but not gone. And I’ve been talking to him. Don’t say it can’t be done,” I added quickly when I saw Gene was going to tell me I was nuts. “You know it can. You were all involved in black magic. That’s what Vinnie told me. Only I thought when he said all, he meant the band. But you’re as much a part of Mind at Large as any of the band members. You were just as involved as they were. My guess is that you knew Vinnie was channeling Damon’s songs, too. He said the thought of channeling terrified him. Maybe you’re the one who pushed him into doing it?”
I didn’t wait for Gene to answer my question. I didn’t have to. I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed the slightest bit that I had hit upon the truth. Considering that I was alone with a killer, it was insane to be jazzed, but I couldn’t help myself. The threads of this investigation had been dangling right in front of my eyes. I was finally able to gather them together—and maybe help Damon find some peace, too.
“You didn’t give a damn how he got them, Vinnie’s songs made you a fortune. But then he told you he wasn’t going to channel anymore. I’ll bet you were as mad as hell. Just like you were when Damon said he was quitting the band. That’s why you killed Vinnie. And it’s why you broke into my apartment. And Belinda’s. Damn!”
I could have kicked myself. “You knew you had to have something pers
onal of Damon’s or you couldn’t channel him. You knew Belinda had visited Vinnie’s place. And you knew I was there, too. You thought one of us had Damon’s things, the stuff Vinnie used for channeling. That’s what you were looking for when you broke into my place. And here I thought it was my lousy ex. Don’t go there!” I warned him when I thought he might ask. No way I was going to get into a conversation about Joel.
“News flash, Gene, you were wasting your time. I had all the stuff, all right. I destroyed every last bit of it.”
“Then you’re as brain dead as Belinda.”
“Who’s not so brain dead after all.” For all I knew, this wasn’t true, but it didn’t hurt to let Gene think I had a backup plan. And a little corroboration when it came to my theory. “Sooner or later, Belinda’s going to remember what—and who—is in that photo of Damon. That’s why you knew you had to kill her. She’s already starting to put it together.” I let my gaze drift to Gene’s bald head. “She’s the one who told me about the shiny ball.”
Tombs of Endearment Page 25
