The Ballad Of Sean And Wilko (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 4)

by Paul Charles

  ‘Well I’ve been thinking about that a lot and I think I might be on to something,’ KP boasted.

  ‘Please tell?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m still waiting for a few loose ends to be tied up. Let’s wait to see if it pans out, then I’ll give you the low-down.’

  Kennedy wanted more, but KP was playing his cards close to his chest. What could KP possibly have uncovered? Some of the manager’s dealings? The band and their finances were complex, but Kennedy’s investigation hadn’t uncovered even a hint of fraud.

  It was starting to get dark outside. Kennedy paid the bill, no resistance offered from KP, and they headed out into the overcast winter afternoon. Kennedy planned to see Sean Green and possibly his wife, Colette, next.

  Kennedy noticed that, even an hour or so before the offices closed, the Spread Eagle was filling up. As the detective had discovered, this particular pub was beginning to buzz increasingly with Camden Town’s music business types. He asked, by way of conversation, ‘Do you lot ever go there?’

  ‘Nah,’ KP answered quick as a flash. ‘No one ever goes there. It’s always too crowded.’

  For once, Kevin Paul failed to realise the wit of his words. The detective shook KP’s hand warmly as they parted. Kennedy took comfort in that he had met someone, albeit under the adverse conditions of a murder investigation, who he liked, a lot in fact. He hoped to get to know this particular Camden Town character better when the case was solved.

  ‘See you later, Kevin.’

  ‘God bless you man, see you later.’

  Kennedy felt another tickle in his throat. He imagined an unwanted cold lurking in the background, or even worse the beginnings of flu. There were not many things in Kennedy’s life he hated, but having the flu was definitely one of them. The detective enjoyed his life and his work so much that he detested anything, such as catching a cold, or worse still, flu, which interfered with his enjoyment of it. Kennedy made do with a call to the chemist and he purchased three wonder-cures for his impending ailments. The grey skies had disappeared and the sun broke through for the remains of the day. At this time of the year, Camden Town with its fiery red skies drifting past the multi-coloured skyline was simply a pleasure to behold. Particularly this year with the fresh white fall of snow helping to cover up all the bits the council would like to sweep under the carpet. Sadly this white carpet was but a temporary solution to their problem. A problem that would return, in aces, when the snow was replaced by slush. However, for now, it was a picture-postcard fit to rival all, and any, Woody Allen might take of his beloved Manhattan. Kennedy took comfort in the red stormy skies; they usually meant the following day was going to be a good weather day. And a good weather day would be helpful in beating the imminent flu germs into early submission.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  WPC Coles and DS Irvine had split up again, despite the fact they both would have liked to interview witnesses together. They were becoming a good team, but the current workload dictated that as Kennedy was on his way to the Green residence, Irvine was knocking on the front door of Robert Clarke’s residence and Coles was being shown into James MacDonald’s office.

  MacDonald’s greeting was warm and friendly.

  ‘Sorry to have to trouble you, but we’ve a few questions we need to ask you,’ Coles started.

  ‘Fire away, by all means. We at Goode Olde Songs have nothing to hide.’

  ‘Speaking of Goode Olde Songs, I understand you were offered three million quid for the company. That’s quite an offer.’ Coles opened her mental briefcase and removed the first question card.

  ‘You unearthed the figure. I thought you would.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not really a secret, Mr MacDonald. BTV Music is a publicly-owned company. The board would have had to clear any offer made. Were you not even in the slightest tempted by the offer?’

  ‘Tempted?! I would have thrown in my first born as part of the deal as well.’ MacDonald laughed bitterly.

  ‘So?’ Coles prompted.

  ‘It wasn’t my call. I did the negotiations,’ MacDonald boasted, ‘but, at the end of the day, Sean Green has the final say. It is his company.

  ‘Tell me, your share of the three million – how much would that have been?’ Coles asked.

  ‘Three hundred grand, give or take,’ MacDonald responded, exaggerating four-fold if Russell’s figure was accurate, give or take.

  ‘That is a lot of change. Had you thought what you’d do with it?’ Coles asked.

  ‘Funnily enough, I had,’ MacDonald started. ‘I was going to see if I could form another company inside GOS, with Sean as an equal partner. Call it something like GOS/Other Artists, invest some of my money and sign some other acts. I’ve got all the contacts now you know. I know how to do it.’

  ‘Did you and Wilko ever try to change Sean’s mind?’ Coles asked presenting one of her trump questions.

  ‘Well that wasn’t really the way with Sean. When Sean didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t come right out and say it. He’d say something like, “I’ll get back to you on that”. But he never would. End of subject. I know that Wilko and his solicitor brought it up at one of the meetings but it didn’t fly there either. I think Sean had something else in mind, he just wouldn’t ever say what. If Sean had only come to us with his plan and said, “look, here’s how I see it, here’s how I want to do it”. That would have been okay, you know?’

  ‘But did he need to do that with you or Wilko? Were you partners? Surely if you were partners he would have included you in the decision-making process?’ Coles asked.

  ‘Well no, not exactly.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean?’

  ‘I’m employed by Sean to run his company. He pays me a wage and also a small percentage of his company.’ MacDonald just about managed to let the words escape through his gritted teeth.

  ‘So, could GOS shareholders, you, Wilko and Leslie Russell, not club together and vote some sense in Sean’s head?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ Coles asked, noticing for the first time how badly-bitten MacDonald’s fingernails were.

  ‘Well, you see, they’re not really that kind of shares. They’re more profit-related bonuses I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Coles announced, as much to West as to MacDonald. ‘So you really aren’t a shareholder at all, more of a manager, really. I guess there was really nothing you or Wilko could do about it then, was there?’

  He turned on her, humiliated and angry.

  ‘Ah. Well now, that’s what you think.’

  ‘Well, there seems to be no other conclusion.’

  ‘You see that’s where you’re mistaken. Wilko had another way. A back door in, as it were. A casting vote, so to speak. A pillow-persuader, if you will,’ MacDonald said. He looked disappointed, as if he’d hoped to take greater pleasure from the disclosure.

  ‘What, you mean…you don’t mean Colette Green?’ Coles threw away the rest of her questions.

  ‘I’m not saying another word,’ he replied, defeated.

  But you already have you bastard, Coles thought. You think you’ve already done the damage don’t you?

  ‘Just one more question before we go, Mr MacDonald,’ Coles said, as she rose from the chair. ‘Can you tell us where you were last Thursday evening, between the hours of eight p.m. and midnight?’

  ‘I can as it happens,’ he returned smugly. ‘I was in Birmingham, to see one of these new writers I’ve been telling you about. One I hope to sign. He was playing in a hotel, the Central. I caught the seventeen-oh-five train from Euston which got me in to New Street at eighteen fifty-five I went straight to the Central, where I checked-in, watched telly for a bit, and then met the writer, a Mr Tommy Flowers, at about eight o’clock. He did his show at nine, I was a wee bit disappointed to be honest. You expect songs to be better live than on cassette; they weren’t. We had dinner; I got back to my hotel room about a quarter to midnight, crashed out and caught t
he seven forty-two train back to Euston Friday morning. I got in to London at nine twenty-five and was at my desk working by ten a.m.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  And then it was Irvine’s turn.

  Robert Clarke lived, financially and geographically, at the other end of Camden Town. He shared a second-floor flat in Camden Square. It turned out his flatmates were in when Irvine and Allaway called, so Clarke led them into his bedroom so that they would have some peace and quiet to carry out the interview. Irvine was shocked at the response Clarke received from Valerie Bower when he requested she and her ex-boyfriend (the third flatmate) go down the pub while he chatted with the police. ‘Fob off down the pub yourself; I’m doing me noodles. It’s my flat as well you know and I don’t give a shit who’s around.’

  Long gone were the days when the police were treated with respected and warmth, not to mention a little fear.

  Robert Clarke’s bedroom was so neat, tidy and clean the chambermaids at the Savoy Hotel would have been proud to say it was on their round. The room was positively cavernous with high ceilings, and the illusion of space was further enhanced with a coat or two of white paint. The bare floorboards were honey-coloured and coated with a clear varnish. The large bay window afforded a panoramic view of Camden Square. Robert used the bay window as a workspace. He’d filled it with a desk, computer, synth-keyboard, cassette recorder, lots of paper and lots of light. To the right of that, in the alcove, was a shelving-system packed floor to ceiling with albums, singles, CDs, cassettes and books. Then came a fireplace, complete with gas fire and pretend flames. Above the fireplace was a Circles poster with Robert’s face, centre position, beaming from ear to ear. Set in the alcove on the opposite side of the fireplace was the head of his double bed with a blue eiderdown. A pair of black velvet trousers were neatly draped over the back of the room’s one easy chair. Clarke removed the trousers, put them on a wooden coat hanger and hung them in the large pine wardrobe which was packed to overflowing and positioned in the centre of the remaining wall. He offered the easy chair to Irvine, spun around the chair at the workspace for Allaway and positioned himself on the bed.

  Robert Clarke was dressed in a well-worn, but classic, black suit with a Daz white shirt. Before hopping on the bed, he had unbuttoned his jacket and yanked his trousers up slightly at the knees. He was a tall, fit man with well-chiselled features and longish but styled blond hair. The overall appearance was more North America than North London.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Clarke began nervously, ‘pop star, member of big group and he still shares a bedsit?’

  ‘Actually, to be honest, I was thinking how tidy your bedroom is,’ Irvine admitted.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Clarke replied, displaying just a slight hint of campness. ‘No. Mmm, as I was saying, I know people expect me to be in a mansion. You have to remember that I was an employee of Circles. I wasn’t on a percentage. The wages were good, I grant you, and Sean Green was more than generous with his bonuses, but my mum always told me to live within my means, so, rather than mortgage myself up to the eyeballs, I just put a lot of it away. Ernie, my little nest egg, is growing all the time. I’m trying to get my own record deal and, if that comes together, I’ll be able to do a publishing deal. I know I’ll need the advance from the record company to float my career but, well…I’m hoping to use the publishing money, along with Ernie, to buy somewhere nice, maybe over in Islington. Islington, now that’s the happening place. I’ve got friends over there. And this one girl, well two actually, two partners I mean. They bought a place in Amell Street, they got it, oh let’s see, lordy it must be about six years ago now, yes it would have been six years because I was in Circles at the time and that’s how I met them. Well I didn’t meet them through Circles, but because I was in Circles I was invited to this dinner party and Anita and Pauline were there and they were so nice to me, so genuine. Where was I? Oh yes, anyway, they bought this place about six years ago for seventy-five grand and, yes, they did spend a bit doing it up. They did it up wonderfully, they’ve got such good taste, actually Pauline is the one with the exquisite taste, Anita tends to coast along on her coat-tails as it were. So, anyways, an identical flat, two doors down, recently came on the market. I know this because Pauline rang me up to tell me. She knew I was looking, but the truth is I wasn’t quite ready to buy, but all my friends keep tipping me off on places. Lordy it’s such good fun going around to see all these places, you get such wonderful ideas for your own place, when you get one that is. But you’ll never guess how much they were looking for this other flat?’

  ‘No?’ Irvine who’d sat stunned through all of this barrage was glad to get his first word in edgeways, or anyways for that matter. You could tell Robert was a musician by the beat of his conversation. Irvine figured if they had long enough, he and Allaway simply would’ve needed to sit there and eventually Clarke would have told them everything they needed to know.

  ‘Two hundred and thirty-five grand,’ Robert screamed, and, throwing caution to the wind, moved to high camp. ‘Lordy, I mean it’s fine for me. Well, really, it’s not even fine for me. But when I think about a young family starting off with two children, how on earth could they afford it? I’m going to be fine of course. I’ve got some great songs. Pauline, the one with the taste I was telling you about, you know Anita’s friend. Friend, now that’s a good word isn’t it? They’re not really friends, they’re life partners. You know, let’s call a spade a spade. However, I’m not quite sure because Pauline, well you see, she’s older, much older and Anita, well I kind of think, this is a personal view of course, I think she’s still got some wild oats to sow, so it might be difficult. However, you see, that’s where Pauline’s canniness comes in. She knows that Anita has got to get this out of her system so she’s been encouraging her to, lordy this is so embarrassing, discussing this with members of the local police force. How do I ever get myself into these situations…’ Clarke rattled on.

  At this juncture, Irvine was convinced Clarke was going to blush. He regained his composure and continued uninterrupted. Uninterrupted because the police were still shell-shocked they didn’t offer even a mutter of resistance.

  ‘Where was I? Oh Yes. Lordy, she’s only been encouraging Anita to sow some wild oats. But I’ve told Pauline this is a two-edge sword. I said to her, I said, “Pauline you’re playing with fire”. Because she is, you know, playing with fire. But anyways as I was saying, oh yes, two points, Pauline loves my material. It’s kind of confessional stuff, you know, and Pauline said, “Robbie”, she calls me Robbie you know, I’d never dream of letting anyone else call me Robbie and you must promise not to tell anyone that Pauline’s nickname for me is, Robbie. Anyway, she said, “Robbie, you’re very brave to bare your soul like that. Most males can’t. I think you’re really in touch with your femininity”. Can you believe she said that to me? I’m in touch with my feminine side. Anyway, I’ll play you some of the songs before you leave, but the other point was that I’ll be able, eventually, with my songs, to pay that kind of money for a place, but what about young couples starting up. Now if they hadn’t built the Dome, they could have spent all that money making homes easier to buy, for married couples with children or first-time buyers but, please, don’t get me started on the Dome. Mind you, that Peter Mandelson is nice, I’d love to see him with a moustache, though.’

  Silence. Beautiful silence, Irvine thought. He hardly wanted to spoil the silence with a question of his own.

  ‘Were you surprised when Sean brought Wilko back into the group?’

  ‘Lordy no. You see, Sean Green, now he is a wonderful man. I have the feeling he may be in touch with his feminine side as well. I keep meaning to ask Pauline about that. She’d probably think it had something to do with his stature. Well, come on, let’s admit it, he’s hardly going to be a professional basketball player now is he? Come on!’ Robert Clarke exclaimed and laughed effeminately. ‘Lordy, I am awful, but I’m sure you won’t tell him. Anyway. He
was always upfront with me. Told me at the beginning that it was a tour by tour thing. Although he did pay me retainers in the downtime. Now he didn’t need to do that. But he said he wanted first call on me. No one had ever wanted first call on me before, so he was welcome. However, I thought it was going okay with me in the band. I’ve got more of a vocal range than Wilko ever had. I can ape his voice, near perfect, on the belters, but then I can also go up a register and work with Sean on the harmonies. People were saying that the harmonies had never sounded so good. But, you see, Sean Green is great at working out strategy. He’s probably a brilliant chess player. He can plan so many moves ahead. I’ll let you in to a little secret here. The reason Circles were so successful and continued to be so was down entirely to Sean Green. He did the majority of the songwriting. Yes, I know, occasionally Wilko would have thrown in a word or two, like on “Colette Calls”. And, let me tell you this, for a set of Wilko lyrics, they are very good. Mostly though it’s Sean. But, apart from the songwriting, he knows how to work the music business. He knows all the games which have to be played and, more importantly, how to play them. He beats them at their own game every time, but the really clever part is that they don’t even know he’s stroking them.’

  ‘Will I take that as a no?’ Allaway interrupted.

  ‘Sor-ree. What was the original question?’ Clarke rejoined, shooting the constable a “you bitch” look.

  ‘Were you surprised Sean introduced Wilko back into the group?’ Allaway replied.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry. You really must cut me off you know. Lordy I’m likely to rattle on here all day. I just adore a good natter, don’t you? Anyway, I was gutted. But then you get to think it wasn’t meant to be. You know, it was a sign for me to get on with my own career. Sadly I was to find out, to my cost, that being a member of Circles wasn’t particularly good for one’s CV. So, you know, every cloud has a silver lining and if I had remained in the band too much longer maybe I wouldn’t have been able to get my own career started.’