Wired For Sound

by Cherime MacFarlane

  He grabbed the receiver away from her. "Warren, where is Vince's latest girl? Tha one who was with him just before tha sound check? Do you know who she is? Where she can be found?"

  He relaxed visibly as he listened to Warren's reply. "Well done. I need tae talk with her. I canna imagine why I forgot about her. She may be able tae shed some light on this."

  Listening quietly for a moment to the man on the other end of the line, Hamish chuckled. "That dinna occur tae me. It would be good tae know where tae find her if Vince was named in ah paternity suit. That particular angle slipped past me. See if ye can set something up quietly. I dinna want tae give myself away just yet. Aye, I am enjoying my freedom. I will ring ye later in tha evening. About six ye think? Until then."

  He hung up the phone and turned to Lori.

  She was glaring at him. "So, that's what this was all about, getting in touch with Vincent's latest bed partner? You were being quite pushy about the whole thing."

  "Well, as to that, I suppose I was. I almost forgot about her, I was out of sorts over forgetting." He tried a tentative smile.

  "Ill-tempered is a bit closer to the truth." She replied sharply.

  He grinned sheepishly at her. "I ken that does describe it. I apologize for being ill tempered. Will ye forgive me?"

  "Yes, this time. Next time, and I am sure there will be a next time; I won't be won over so easily. Mind your manners, MacGrough."

  "Yes, my luv." He replied humbly.

  Lori was not amused. "Meekness does not wash, MacGrough. I know you better. So, cut the garbage and let's have a look around before we have to leave. It may be quite a while before I get back here again as a tourist."

  They took a walk around the mission. Lori was paying more attention to her surroundings than Hamish.

  His mind was on other things. As it had occurred to him that the entire affair could be more complicated than he had first thought, H.M.'s mind was turning the problem this way, then another. He was looking at angles he had not considered before. Data, he needed more data. There were too few pieces to the puzzle.

  Lori found she was literally leading him around. He answered absently if at all. She did not push it. H.M. lost in thought was preferable to H.M. pushing and shoving impatiently at her.

  Lori kept track of the time. She made sure they found a cab in plenty of time to make their appointment with Ed.

  Rush hour hadn't begun, so the drive was fairly pleasant. Lori verified the existence of the pub she had recalled with the cabbie. It was in the neighborhood so they would be able to have a pint, and lunch as well.

  Lori instructed the cabbie to wait outside the apartment building while she went inside to get Ed.

  1The three of them sat at a table toward the back of the pub. The decor was neo Tudor, which consisted of dark beams and white plaster walls. Tables made of heavy planks with edges roughly scalloped, crowded together in the dimly lit room. All the woodwork was stained a uniform dark brown.

  H.M. was weary of imitation, but the beer was fair so he decided to give the steak and kidney pie an audition. Lori and Ed chose it as well. Once the waitress moved on, there was silence around the table.

  Ed appeared nervous. Toying with his beer mug, the head roadie alternately sipped at the liquid and traced the pattern on the glass with one finger. Avoiding eye contact with Hamish, the thin man surveyed the interior of the place absently.

  "I hadn't thought it would be so difficult. After all, quite a few entertainers do drugs. The problem lies in telling on a coworker. The two of us go way back. We always call one another when there's a gig."

  Turning sideways, Ed was looking directly at H.M. as he spoke. "I've never thought about his sideline much. After all, if they don't get it from him, it's going to be someone else, which could cause all kinds of trouble with the law. When you're doing a big tour, you don't need the star sitting in a jail cell somewhere, unable to perform."

  Falling silent, the older man took another drink. A frown creased his forehead. Without his habitual smile, Ed looked older, careworn. A few gray hairs swirled backward from his long sideburns.

  His gray eyes no longer held the alert quality the frenzied activity of his line of work usually gave them. This afternoon the man who ran a crew of individualistic roadies with a competency that made it all look easy, appeared apprehensive and timid.

  H.M. didn't push. Ed would explain himself in his own time. He did get the general direction however. Vince had obviously been getting drugs from someone. It was better for the band if everyone connected with it, managed to stay out of trouble with the cops in the various countries they toured. Buying drugs from the locals was not the way to avoid encounters with local law.

  In Vincent's case, he had a supplier. H.M. wanted to at least speak with the individual to determine if Vincent's habits had anything to do with the manner of his death.

  Ed took a deep breath and went on. "I spoke to him. He has agreed to talk with you. But, there is a price. He does not want to be implicated in any way with Vincent's death. I'm afraid if his condition is not agreed to at the start, he won't see you."

  "Agreed. I've never thought drugs had anything tae do with Vincent's death directly. I just need tae have all tha pieces tae tha puzzle in order tae put it together. Your friend has my word; nothin will be said about our discussion."

  H.M. sat back in the chair in an effort to get comfortable. "Bloody hard chair, this." He grumbled.

  Ed chuckled as he watched MacGrough squirm around trying to find a satisfactory position in the wooden chair. "Up a bit too late last night?"

  H.M. shot him a searching glance. "What makes ye ask that?"

  Ed took another sip of his beer, put the mug down, then smiled at H.M. "We've done two tours together right?" Ed looked at H.M. for confirmation.

  "Correct."

  Ed continued. "I make it my business to know what makes my charges tick. It's to my advantage to know. About the only time you get really grouchy is when you haven't had enough sleep. Hangovers, you can handle. I guess you figure since you brought on the problem, you'll suffer in silence. But, lack of sleep or head colds bring out the bastard in you. Since you don't have a head cold, you must have been up too late last night. When you're tired, you want everything to go just right, no glitches allowed."

  Ed laughed at the look of surprise on H.M.'s face. "Hey, boss, just doing my job. The better I know the boss, the easier everything goes for everyone. I'm good at my job. I chose to work for you. I had a couple of other tours I could have done, I wanted to be with you guys."

  "Well, well." Lori smiled at Ed. "I'm certainly glad to know we are in such good hands. I always trusted you Ed. I can see my instincts were good."

  "I dinna sleep well last night." H.M. growled. "This affair has upset me considerable."

  Ed nodded. "That's understandable. I know you really liked the Viper. You kept trying to deflate his ego bubble. If he'd listened to you, he might be alive today. You can't run roughshod over everyone and not expect some kind of retaliation. I wish the individual who struck back could have just thrashed him instead."

  Tipping the glass up, Ed finished his beer. "The person who wanted him dead, wanted him to fry, sizzle a bit. This goes beyond anger. It's sort of like retribution or some such. Like someone wanted God to reach out and zap him. They would have preferred a lightening bolt, but electrocution served just as well."

  "There's something about this I can't figure." Ed shook his head. "If he hurt any of you guys that much, you would have beaten the holy shit out of him. It doesn't add up. None of the band could have done this. If not you guys, then who?"

  H.M. sighed. "Now ye know what kept me up last night. There is something we need tae know, some piece of information we dinnae have. I must admit I had not quite thought about tha matter from tha angle ye mentioned. I do get yur point. I think ye're correct. The wrath of God reaching out tae show him tha error of his ways was tha intention here. Why? 'Tis tha reason I wish to speak with yo
ur friend, I need all the pieces of tha puzzle."

  Lori stared pensively into her beer mug. "Maybe the killer felt they couldn't physically give him what he deserved. They felt incapable of hurting him enough on their own, too vulnerable for some reason."

  H.M. couldn't see Lori's face. At that moment, he was afraid to. The horrible nagging suspicion which refused to stay banished caused a chill of fear to surge through him. "Ye think tha individual who killed him was incapable of physically hurting him?"

  Lori was still staring at the mug. "Well, physically they may have been, but perhaps just not powerful enough in some way. Maybe they feared retaliation from Vince. Or maybe they feared for someone else."

  She looked up at him. Hamish was relieved to see her expression was pensive. Obviously she was just throwing out an idea to see what they thought of it.

  Ed nodded. "Could be they feared for someone else, making it impossible for them to deal with Vince in a one to one situation. Yeah, you can count on me. I need answers as much as you do."

  "First, I like rock-and-roll. I can't play an instrument, but it suits me fine to make my living from it by helping to set up the show and keep it running smoothly. I don't like having one of my boys murdered. Second, I have to know who and why. It doesn't make sense. My orderly little brain can't handle it."

  The waitress brought their food. As she placed the steaming ramekins in front of them, Ed looked at their glasses. "Another round anyone?"

  "Aye. Lori?"

  "Yes, please. If I can't finish it, I know H.M. can." She tried to lighten the atmosphere with a little humor. "If this steak and kidney pie is any good, he'll help me finish it as well."

  Both of the men smiled at her remarks.

  H.M. looked at the condiments on the table. "Hand me tha steak sauce please."

  He liberally covered the crust of his pie with the sauce then broke it up before taking a bite. He chewed it thoughtfully. "Nae tae bad."

  "But, nae as good as tha food at home." Lori mimicked.

  H.M. reached out a hand to brush her cheek. "So, I'm ah prejudiced provincial. Are you going tae hold it against me?"

  She smiled at him. "Never. I love you just the way you are. Do you know a song called 'My Funny Valentine'?"

  H.M. thought for a moment. "I dinnae recall it."

  "That doesn't surprise me." Lori smiled at him. "It's a real oldie. My Grandma played it quite a lot. If you ever run across the sheet music, you should try it. The song says a lot about the way I feel about you."

  Beneath the table her foot slid up and down his leg before she turned her attention to the food.

  Ed kept his head down, trying to ignore their conversation. Not that it was easy to do. He enjoyed watching them. It was obvious they were a happy couple. It was rare in this world and even rarer in the music business.

  He wished for a relationship like theirs. He tried marriage once, but it never survived the second road tour. He came home to an empty house and divorce papers.

  Someday, when he was too old to tour, maybe then. Then again, there was no use fooling himself, he was going to tour until he died. He loved the business and wasn't going to quit. Ed glanced at H.M. and Lori. Some people found it, some kept on looking.

  Lori caught his knowing look, she blushed slightly. Lowering her head, she began to eat. Ed watched as H.M. smiled at her. The man loved his wife, and it showed.

  H.M. forked up a mouth full of the pie. Beneath the table, his free hand stroked Lori's knee then squeezed gently for an instant, before it was withdrawn.

  After the waitress removed the empty dishes, the three of them sat around the table with the last of the beer.

  The after work regulars were starting to fill the room. A couple of dart games were in progress to the right of their table. The mood of the place was upbeat which was oppressive for some odd reason, which Hamish failed to understand.

  Ed spoke first. "Hank Davis is the person I was talking about earlier. He handles lighting mostly. That's who we are going to be seeing."

  "He's probably at my place now. Are we ready?" The older man asked.

  Lori nodded in agreement.

  H.M. picked up the check then looked at Ed. "Would you hail ah taxi? We will take care of this an meet ye outside."

  Ed rose. "Sure." He left the table to make his way through the growing crowd to the door.

  Lori took the check from H.M., removed the necessary bills from her wallet and left them on the table. When they exited the restaurant, Ed had a cab waiting outside.

  Traffic was still heavy. The trip took a little longer than it had the first time. They discussed the current trend toward censorship in the U.S. as it related to art and music.

  "You know," Ed was sitting in the front seat. He turned sideways to talk to Hamish and Lori, "I can't help but feel parents have become very lazy. They have the big baby sitter, the public school system to keep an eye on the kids. Parents have gradually been turning over to the education system things they should be instilling in their kids; sex education, moral values and such. Now they want the government to take on the responsibility for seeing that the kids don't hurt themselves. There have always been things in the world to hurt children. Part of parenting was keeping a watchful eye on them to make sure they grew up as they should. They want to blame everyone else for their lack of parenting skills."

  Lori interrupted him. "Another part of the problem lies with the necessity of both parents having to work to make it in this society. When the school gets out a couple of hours before the parents get home, the kids are left to fend for themselves. It's all well and good to blame working mothers for this problem, but they need to bring in extra money to keep the kids in designer jeans."

  She went on. "The parents need some time to themselves, so it becomes a choice between what they need to keep on functioning at the top of their form at work and the needs of the family."

  Lori looked over at Hamish before she continued. "The grand parents are either off on their own, enjoying their retirement, or are so far away there is no support system for the children. I was lucky. My grandma lived close to us. I went to stay with her after school each day. In the summer, we went on expeditions to museums and art galleries while my parents were out earning a living. She introduced me to art, music, reading and religion. If it hadn't been for her, I would have been out on the street with the rest of the kids looking for trouble. Knowing me, I probably would have found it."

  H.M. thought about her statements before commenting. "There was always ah roof over my head an food in tha cupboard. Being ah single parent was hard on Mum. But, at least we dinna have tae worry about eating. Other things, like my piano were hard to get. My mum worked tha lunch shift as ah waitress. She was home when I got home from school."

  "When Gran died, there was a bit of coin left to her. Mum put it in tha bank for me tae have when she died. That was tha only thing that kept me afloat while tha band tried tae get tha act together."

  "Mum was always there for me. She watched what I read an did. She took me tae church every Sunday. We went on outings occasionally. We would take tha train out tae the highlands. Mum and I hiked around every summer on holiday. Thinking about it, she kept ah good eye on me."

  "Exactly!" Ed exclaimed. "Your mother was a parent. She knew her responsibilities and did her job. She raised you. She didn't depend on the government via the school to do her job for her. There are some parents who use television when the school is closed to keep the kiddies quiet and off their backs. Anything for a little peace and quiet. What they don't seem to realize is when they bring children into the world, they are taking on a full time, twenty-four-hour job, so they abdicate to whoever or whatever will take over their duties."

  "And as the children they have grow up," Lori added, "the problem compounds itself. Their children have even less parenting skills and their children's children will know even less."

  "So, they never listen tae what tha children are learning from music, television or c
inema. They want tha government tae regulate things so they willna have tae monitor tha children themselves. Is this correct?"

  Lori answered H.M.'s question. "Yes. They don't have the time or energy to work, pursue their leisure activities and raise children. As long as the kids are quiet and stay out of their hair, everything is fine."

  "Nae." H.M. frowned. "'Tis wrong. Tha quiet children may be tha very ones havin difficulties. 'Tis nae good for children tae be locked away in their own world. They may be havin mental problems. They may need help. Children are supposed tae be playing, interacting with each other an learning how tae get along with other people. Inquiring into tha nature of tha world an what makes it function."

  "It's a paradox." Ed broke in. "Quiet children are good children. Noisy children, those busy learning and asking questions are a trial; they take up valuable time. Conversely, those children who are looked on as 'good' may be showing the first signs of problems. As long as they are 'good', no one is going to ask any questions. Everyone will be so very surprised when they blow up and something bad happens."

  "Vince was always ignored." H.M. absently scrubbed one hand through his now short hair. "He was always away at boarding school. When he was at home on holidays, tha servants looked after him. He never understood other people. He had nae clue as tae how tae get along with others. God, I'm glad Mum kept me an took care of me. I could have turned out like Vince."

  Lori patted his leg. "Never. You are a lot nicer than he ever was. I don't think parental neglect would have done to you what it did to him. Some material is easier to work with. Poor quality canvas will eventually tear without gentler handling. You are like the best grade canvas, tough stuff. You would have made out, no matter what."

  The cab drew up before the building. Ed paid the driver over H.M.'s protest. They went into the lobby and the head roadie opened the inner doors with his key.