“That’s the mayor’s daughter, Asha I think it is. Now, she’s a hottie.”
“She looks about fifteen,” Roxy said, thinking she also looked out of place. Apart from Roxy and Houghton, she was the only other person not dressed like she was heading to Woodstock. Asha had a short, ’50s style white lacy dress on with black leggings underneath and Dock Martin stomper boots on her feet. Her white-blonde hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail and her eyes smudged with so much black eyeliner, it was a wonder she could pry them open.
“Oh, she’s older than that, but only just. Finished school last year I think. Must be at least seventeen or eighteen by now.”
“Perfect age for Jed then.”
He stared at her horrified, then across to Annika. “Why? What have you heard?”
She quickly backpedalled. “Nothing, Houghton, I was just having a joke.”
He didn’t appear to hear her. “You know, that is one rumour doing the rounds that is total bullshit. I don’t know who started it, but it’s got to stop. He is not sleeping with Asha Kidlong, he’s promised me he’s not. He’s mended his ways.”
“I believe you, Houghton. Seriously, it was just a joke.” But she could clearly see he didn’t have a sense of humour where this was concerned. “Anyway, it looks like Annika and Jed are back on track. They obviously made up for their little tiff last night.”
He nodded. “Always do. Those fights are what keeps the passion alive.”
She thought about that. Perhaps that’s where she and Max went wrong, both too damn polite and accommodating.
After watching the fire for a few minutes, Roxy said, “If I’m going to listen to more of this noise pollution, I think I’m going to need a drink.” She stood up. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll be right.” He produced what looked like a joint from his shirt pocket. “You want?”
She shook her head and weaved her way around the hay bales towards the thin set of stairs on the side of the veranda, which she knew led straight to the bar. The living room was empty when she stepped inside, and almost dark with only a selection of candles scattered at various intervals to light the place up. Roxy walked behind the bar and kneeled down to inspect a large wine rack full of dusty bottles of mostly red. There was plenty of Shiraz and a few Cabernet Sauvignons, but she struggled to find a Merlot amongst the blends. She was just giving up and reaching for a cab-sav when she heard a door creak and a familiar voice filtered across the room.
“Come on then, but we have to be quick. He’ll be on stage soon.”
It sounded exactly like Annika, and Roxy wondered how she’d managed to get away from the Greens Party councillors so fast. Roxy was about to stand up and identify herself, when a man’s voice broke through the silence. He was whispering and it made Roxy hesitate. It did not sound like Jed.
“What if he catches us?”
“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf then?” Annika giggled.
“You can joke all you want woman, but he’ll have my balls if he knows what we’re up to!”
Annika giggled a little more flirtatiously, “Not if I have them fiiiiirst.”
Roxy heard Annika’s voice trail off, as though she was moving deeper into the house. “... Keep telling you ... we have to act now. It’s time, babe... it’s time.”
Although Roxy was struggling now to hear them, she could just make out the faint sound of laughter before a door slammed and the room returned to silence. Roxy stood up slowly, making sure she was alone. The room was empty again.
Hurriedly, she cracked open the bottle, poured herself a hefty glass, and slunk back out the side door. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d just overheard but it didn’t sound anything like a faithful wife.
What a piece of work, Roxy thought as she descended the staircase. And she has the gall to lecture me about flirting!
“You okay?”
Roxy looked up with a start to find Angry Beard Man standing at the bottom of the staircase, an empty bottle of Coopers Green in his hand. She felt a sudden shot of adrenaline.
What was he doing here?
As if reading her concerns, he smiled and said, “It’s okay I got invited.”
“Really?” She couldn’t mask the disbelief in her voice as she glanced around, hoping to spot Houghton.
“Listen,” he said, taking a step towards her. “I was hoping I might see you.”
“Oh?” She stepped back.
“Yeah, just wanted to say how sorry I am about yesterday, about biting your head off at the café.”
“Oh, right.” She took another step back.
“I was just having a really bad day, that’s all. Shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you. I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Roxy,” she said, her back now up against the bar door.
“Anyway, I can’t imagine how you felt. I was a bit rough.” His eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned back a little. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know?”
She attempted to laugh him off, but her voice sounded strained, nervous even. Sensing this, he took several steps back down the staircase and waved a hand as if permitting her to pass. Tonight he was wearing a dark dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and deep blue jeans, muddy boots on his feet. His three-day growth was still present but it looked like he’d clipped his hair shorter and it tufted up just slightly at the front. His eyes were softer and less angry than the day before.
Roxy smiled and continued descending the stairs again. She wondered why this man left her feeling so jittery. It’s not like he’d ever actually threatened her. He was clearly just a loving brother, traumatised by his sister’s death. Roxy had a sudden thought. She stopped just as she was level with him and said, “You should get someone to look into it, you know.”
“What?”
“Your sister’s death. The woman at the café told me about it.”
The man’s face clouded over then and his eyes began to swell. She had a dreadful feeling he was about to cry.
She quickly said, “It’s just that if you think it’s suspicious, you can always ask for a second opinion. Take your suspicions to the police. If you believe it wasn’t an accident, that is.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
“Then speak to the police.”
He flicked her a scathing look. “Round here? They’re like a pack of groupies, all in Jed’s pocket. He’s the big superstar, no one will investigate.”
“Then take it higher, insist that it get looked at properly.”
“Like that’s gonna happen. It’s too late. It’s over with.”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.”
He stared hard at her. “What do you know about that?”
“I know that if you feel strongly about it, you can force change. You just have to speak up.”
“Oh, and that’s worked for you, has it?”
There was deep sarcasm dripping from his voice and she felt her defences rise again. “Yes, actually, several times.” He was still looking skeptical. “I’ve come across several mysterious deaths in my time, I’ll have you know, and I didn’t just moan about them. I’ve got a friend, who also happens to be a top detective in Sydney; I got her to take another look. We were able to prove that justice wasn’t being done. The police aren’t the enemy, you know? At least, not all of them are. You just have to know who to speak to and you need to find the courage to speak up. You can fight for justice.”
“Can you ask her for me?”
“Sorry?”
“Your detective friend, can she look into my sister’s death for me?”
Roxy hesitated. That’s not what I’m trying to say. “No ... I mean, she’s based in Sydney. You need to find someone local, someone in Byron or Tweed Heads, that’s the biggest town around here, right?”
Sam’s thick eyebrows nudged together like he was about to say something when a high-pitched voice called out to them from across the yard: “Hey, you two!”
They both looked around to find
Govinda swirling on the grass between the stage and the bonfire. At some point the band had finally given up and someone was playing bad dance tracks from a turntable on one side. Govinda held both hands out beckoning them over.
“Come on!” she cried out. “Come boogie!”
Sam glanced back at Roxy and rolled his eyes. “God, I hate hippies.”
She smiled and went to walk past him, but he caught her arm and held her close. “Thanks for the advice, but if you ask me, the only way Jed is ever going to get justice, is when karma comes and bites him on the bum.”
Then he released her arm and stepped past her up the stairs and into the house.
Chapter 10
Roxy took a fortifying mouthful of wine and returned to the bonfire where Govinda was now whirling like a dervish, her full skirt flying up to reveal shapely legs and Ugg boots. Roxy hoped she wasn’t wearing anything synthetic. One wrong step and she’d be alight.
“Come!” Govinda implored again, going to grab Roxy’s hand, but she ducked back.
“No way, Govinda, I’m not nearly drunk enough for that. You’re on your own.”
“We’re all on our own, chook, no matter who we think we’re dancing with.” Then she twirled in a half circle and jangled away.
The backing music came to an unceremonious stop and Roxy looked up to the makeshift stage to see Houghton standing in front of the microphone, tapping it silently with one finger. The black curtain had been pulled back to reveal what looked like a cosy living room—a glowing orange lamp on a side table, fairy lights hanging down, and a plush Persian carpet on which several guitars, amplifiers and a drum kit had been set up.
Suddenly a burst of feedback screeched through the air and everyone cringed. “Oh, shit, sorry, guys!” Houghton’s voice bellowed through the PA and across the lawn. “It’s workin’ now!”
“Get off!” called someone from the back and Houghton held a hand up.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here for long. Just wanna say a quick thanks for coming. The guys just wanna try out a few new tracks and it’d be good to get your feedback afterwards.”
“Who gives a rat’s what this pack of losers think?” came a booming voice from the side and Roxy spotted Jed walking up onto the stage, still wearing the same cowboy shirt, jeans and hat, only he was now barefoot.
The drummer, who had already dropped down behind the drum kit, did a quick comedic drum roll—ba dump dump chshshshshshshsh! And the crowd cheered wildly, clearly not offended by their local rocker’s rebuff.
Houghton laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna love this new stuff. I’ll leave the boys to it.”
As Houghton scurried offstage, Roxy watched Jed step towards the centre microphone where several guitars were positioned on stands, a lead dangling from one of them. He bent down to adjust an effects pedal attached to an amplifier. He straightened up and looked around then back out at the audience before leaning towards his microphone and snarling, “Where is that useless fuckin’ bass player of mine?”
The crowd laughed uproariously and the drummer did another comedic drum roll. Several faces turned to look around and when Alistair still didn’t appear, Jed said, “Anyone here play bass? We’re looking for a new bass player. Can’t be much worse than Alistair bloody Avery. Tosser.”
Again the crowd laughed and at least two of the hippies held their hands up, waving them about as if to indicate they were up for the job, when Alistair appeared from the back of the stage looking flushed.
“Sorry!” he called out as he raced across to the right-hand side where a five-string Pedula bass was resting on its stand. He hoisted it up and over his white shirt while Jed gave him a look of utter contempt. Clearly, his apology was not accepted. Alistair ignored Jed’s glare and for a moment Roxy wondered whether Jed was going to start a fight; the tension between them was palpable. It must have lasted at least a full minute—Jed staring darkly at Alistair, Alistair inspecting his strings, tuning his bass, not meeting his eyes—before Doug started playing a steady groove. Perhaps he was just trying to dissolve the tension, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed. In any case, Jed managed to tear his eyes away from his bassist and back to the audience who had now all deserted the warm fire to gather closer to the stage.
Amongst them, Roxy spotted the mayor’s pretty young daughter fighting her way through to the middle of the crowd, as well as Govinda, swirling to the beat of her own drum, and the gaggle of gorgeous young things. They were staring up at their idol, entranced, the redhead even holding her arms out as though trying to reach him. Only the farmer couple was nowhere to be seen and Roxy guessed they’d taken the opportunity to sneak off. It was hardly their scene.
Jed picked up one guitar, a classic, candy apple red Fender Stratocaster, and stepped towards the microphone.
“Here’s a little tune I’ve written for the love of my life.”
He paused and stared straight into the crowd and Roxy could not tell who he was looking at, but she knew one thing for certain. It was not his wife. Annika was standing to the side of the stage, just in front of Houghton, her face inscrutable in the dark.
“This song’s called, ‘It’s time, baby, it’s time’.”
He paused again as the crowd whooped loudly, then adjusted his guitar strap and slammed one hand down across his strings with a harsh stroke, just as someone screamed out from the crowd.
There was another piercing cry, then an almighty crack filled the night sky, followed quickly by a booming crash and a spray of bright white sparks. Roxy gasped along with the crowd and for a few moments assumed this was all part of the act. She continued watching, mesmerised, as Jed’s body began pulsating back and forth, then sparks began flying out from his hands and his hair seemed to catch alight. That’s when she realised something was not right. Thick smoke and a pungent stench filled the air and finally, belatedly, the entire audience began to scream.
This was no stage act. Jed Moody was burning alive.
Chapter 11
“Nobody touch anything!”
The voice came loud and fast from one side of the audience and it took Roxy a few seconds to realise who was speaking. Sam was frantically pushing through the crowd who were now surging forwards, screaming and crying out as Jed’s body hit the floor of the stage and continued pulsating, his guitar still stuck to his hands.
“You’ll electrocute yourself!” Sam called out again, and the crowd suddenly surged back.
Roxy spotted Alistair then, still clutching his bass and staring open-mouthed at Jed, a look of horror on his face. The drummer, too, seemed in shock and was now standing behind the drum kit, his sticks held like a cross in front of him as though for protection or prayer.
Only Sam was moving now, shoving people out of his way before leaping up onto the stage towards Jed. Roxy noticed that Houghton and Annika had also stayed in place, holding one another in a tight, protective embrace.
Sam lifted what looked like a guitar case from the side of the stage and threw it at Jed’s hands, attempting to dislodge the guitar. It did not work and he turned to look offstage.
“Annika!” he yelled. “We need to shut the power off!” Annika appeared to be in a daze and was still clinging onto Houghton as though refusing to let go, so he yelled more loudly this time, “Annnnnika! Now!”
Finally she snapped out of it, pushed free of Houghton and began running down the stage steps and towards the house, to the side staircase near the bar, then beneath the stairs to where the fuse box was located. Sam was close behind, yelling something to Houghton as he raced to catch up.
“People, people!” Houghton suddenly cried out, making his way to the edge of the stage, his pudgy hands waving madly in the air. “Stay where you are! We don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Stay back!”
A minute later, every light on the property snapped off and the entire place descended into darkness.
The rest of the night played out like a horror movie in slow motion. Roxy recalled a woman shrieking, over a
nd over again, hopelessly out of control. Others were sobbing quietly or simply standing on the lawn, arms crossed staring up at the stage in disbelief. Jed was no longer convulsing and someone was shining a torch down upon him while an older man administered CPR. Annika, Sam and Houghton were all hovering close by; Houghton with his mobile phone fixed to one ear, but Roxy couldn’t read any of their faces in the dark. She felt like a third nostril, suddenly, useless and out of place.
Eventually, after what seemed like an hour but was probably closer to twenty minutes, an ambulance came wailing down the long driveway and around to the back of the house, cutting across the lawn and towards the bonfire. The crowd parted as two paramedics jumped out and swiftly strode towards the stage. A young female paramedic commenced mouth-to-mouth while the male began working on Jed’s heart. It seemed an interminable period of time again before they finally stopped and sat back on their heels. The male paramedic looked up at Annika solemnly and shook his head.
Then, and only then, did Annika burst into tears; turning back towards Houghton where she bent over and sobbed into his chest. Some people in the crowd dropped to the ground, shocked and distraught, others moved slowly back to the bonfire, which was now almost out. As some set about stoking it back to life, others dropped onto the hay bales and hugged each other close. There was no more dancing or smoking joints now, just a deep sense of melancholy and despair.
Almost nobody spoke, although an acoustic guitar appeared from somewhere and an elderly man began strumming a mournful tune. It was the same guy who’d first administered CPR.
Soon after, a police patrol car arrived, also cutting across the lawn, and two uniformed officers got out. Both were short, one plump with a shaved head and the other with an odd little Hitler moustache. They looked around open-mouthed, as if shocked by the whole scene, then made their way to the stage where the paramedics were now talking with Houghton and Sam. The police officers joined the conversation, then one of them walked with Sam back towards the house while the other stepped towards the front of the stage and addressed the crowd.
Note Before Dying (Ghostwriter Mystery 6) Page 6
