I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 2)

by Paul Charles

  ‘Well, let’s look at this.’ Kennedy outlined his hypothesis. ‘Let us assume, for the purpose of this discussion, that last Friday night, just as he was about to leave his office, Peter O’Browne was telephoned, in fact, by the murderer. If we go with this theory then we have to automatically rule out Mary Jones, as she was leaving the building with Peter as the call came through.’ Kennedy refilled their wine glasses.

  ‘Unless. Unless of course you go for the them option, old chap. In which case Mary’s accomplice could have made the call,’ Russell interrupted, happy to have his wine glass recharged, and, relishing the opportunity to join in the policeman’s ‘let’s suppose’ scenario.

  ‘But then why would Mary had contacted me with her fears for Peter?’ asked ann rea, who stopped filling her wine glass in mid-flow to offer her flaw in Russell’s scenario. ‘She could easily have just stayed quiet until his body was found.’

  ‘Well, contact you and, or, the police would have been exactly what she would have been expected to do,’ replied Kennedy, taking a sip of his wine and nodding to the waitress to bring them another bottle. The trouble, he felt, with great red wine was that it flowed down the gullet a little too easily. By this time, the Engineer was filling up with people, and making himself heard above the noise was proving thirsty work. Leslie Russell had a habit of checking every new patron, his eyes resting for a few seconds longer on the female contingent.

  ‘Anyway, you were saying old chap?’ Russell prompted as he smiled a smile that said ‘I’m glad someone ordered a second bottle of wine, because I don’t want to have to refuse the last glass in the bottle just to be polite’.

  ‘So, say the murderer telephoned Peter O’Browne. O’Browne must have known who it was, because he went willingly to meet him – or her – at Mayfair Mews Studio. He must have considered this meeting important enough to blow out the appointment to view a new group with Mary Jones.

  ‘The murderer is waiting for O’Browne to arrive. He overpowers him with the help of chloroform which could take anything up to sixty seconds to take effect. Perhaps that rules out a woman, perhaps not. The element of surprise might have worked in the assassin’s favour.

  ‘By the time O’Browne regains consciousness, he is bound hand and foot, and gagged, consequently in the power of the murderer. The killer takes O’Browne’s credit cards and first thing on Saturday morning takes a train from Waterloo to Wareham, using the aforementioned cards to pay for the ticket. He, or she(ish), takes a train to Corfe Castle, has lunch and disappears. Then he presumably returns to London, and goes directly to O’Browne’s house on England’s Lane to plant an incendiary device which torches the house on Sunday evening.

  ‘We have to imagine that he or she had to return to Mayfair Mews. Again, this is an assumption based on the fact that O’Browne somehow had access to a toilet. His clothes were not soiled and it seems he was also fed and watered. So our murderer must have visited the studio several times before his final return on Wednesday evening sometime before nine thirty. The killer threw a rope over a roof beam, tied the other end around O’Browne’s neck and pulled until he was dangling in the air.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m fit for the main course,’ ann rea groaned. Kennedy felt just the opposite. A mushroom and pastry dish like the one he’d ordered had recently been delivered to the next table and the blend of rich aromas from the mushroom sauce and freshly baked pastry was making Kennedy’s mouth water. For now he satisfied himself with another mouthful of wine.

  ‘The slayer then either tied the free end of the rope to something or held it while Peter O’Browne struggled for air and eventually strangled. This would have taken a few minutes, perhaps even quite a few, and a lot of guts. When the evil deed was completed O’Browne was lowered to the floor and his body prepared for discovery.’

  ‘How was that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we have to keep that information secret for the time being,’ Kennedy replied gently. ‘But I can tell you that some kind of statement was undoubtedly being made.

  ‘Finally, the murderer tidied up the place, packed away his bits and pieces and left Mayfair Mews Studio probably no later than ten thirty.’ The end of Kennedy’s summary coincided neatly with the arrival of the main course.

  ann rea was happy she had ordered the ravioli and not the lamb, as recommended by their waitress. All three of them were silent for a while, though lots of ambient noise was provided by the pepper mills, salt shakers, knives and forks, and added to by the surrounding hubbub.

  Kennedy felt it was time to move away from the murder scene so vividly planted in the mind of everyone at the table. He had to find a tangent to travel upon. There were several possible tangents, and each would eventually traverse.

  His starting question was, ‘So, how long had you known Peter O’Browne?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  It doesn’t pay to drive too fast

  All it does is make your life last shorter

  - Gilbert O’Sullivan

  ‘Must be over twenty years now,’ Russell replied without hesitation, his bass-baritone crackle voice ensuring that his part of the conversation would not carry to the neighbouring tables. ‘He came to me the first time he fell into trouble. It was that turn of his called Radio Cars.

  ‘They were selling records, lots of them, and their manager wanted to take them to another record company. It wasn’t even a request as far as this chap Jason Carter-Houston was concerned he was off, with “his boys” in tow, the lure of a big commission cheque being too strong to resist.

  ‘Peter’s shop partner, Paddy George, had used my father’s services for years and he brought Peter around to our offices. Father brought me into the meeting with Peter and Paddy. I think he reckoned that Peter and I spoke the same language, so he suggested that we went off and sorted out Peter’s problems, leaving the grown-ups to their own problem; namely, a love of fifteen-year-old malt whisky.

  ‘As it turned out, there was not a lot I could do for him at that stage. Basically, he didn’t have any sort of written agreement with Radio Cars. And so they left, went off to enjoy a career rich only in obscurity with a label I forget the name of.’

  ‘Butterfly Records?’ ann rea suggested.

  ‘Absolutely correct.’ Russell nodded his head in a northeast to southwest direction. ‘But Peter had the last laugh. Let me tell you a little story. I do this in the strictest of confidence, of course. When they came back to him some time later seeking royalty payment, Peter said, “What royalties? Remember, we don’t have a contract, and if there is no contract how can there be any agreement to pay royalties?”’ Russell afforded himself a laugh, a laugh loud enough to draw the attention of some of their fellow diners. ‘I didn’t feel at the time that Peter was one hundred per cent legal in his argument, but it was some kind of poetic justice.’

  ‘How did he come to start up the record company in the first place, it seems such a weird ambition?’ ann rea quizzed.

  ‘I suppose to Peter it was a natural progression from the record shop, which had been a natural progression from managing the group. He was always helping new bands who dropped by the shop. He started falling for the American sounds of Jackson Browne, Leonard Cohen, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young (together and separately), Joni Mitchell and some of the new West Coast soft rock groups who were springing up practically weekly at that point.

  ‘Peter started writing to some of these groups whose records you could only purchase on import. He was eager for news on their careers and future releases, and the UK music rags, as ever, were about a year behind the time. One such group, Half Moon Bay Express asked Peter to put out their new album in Britain. It wasn’t that they thought he was great or anything, they just couldn’t get anyone else interested, but they did like and trust Peter. He was flattered but, because he liked them so much, he was scared of being the cause of “bad vibes”. He was still pretty hurt that he had lost his oldest friend due to the business side of the music.

 
; ‘Around this time, he had a call out of the blue from his friend, Martyn Farrelly, and after a very drunken evening Martyn gave Peter five hundred pounds for his new venture. Peter opened a new account at his local Lloyds branch in the name of Camden Town Records. He was now the sole owner of a record company. He decided that rather than manufacture his records, he would begin by importing American copies of the Half Moon Bay Express album.

  ‘They agreed to his request and sent two hundred “cut-out” copies. “Cut-out” is where albums have had the top left hand corner of the sleeve cut-off to signify a “freebie” or promotional copy. That way they avoid having to pay both import and export duty. American album sleeves were generally produced with thicker card than used on the UK releases. The one-inch triangle missing from one corner made the release quite mysterious for the UK collectors and, to add further to the intrigue, Americans shrink-wrapped their releases.

  ‘Peter sold fifty of these in the Camden Records shop and he distributed the remaining one hundred and fifty around like-minded record stores in London. To Peter, this was like when he went around on the underground on his original trip to London to try and find gigs for “the boys”. This time he was going around with boxes of records to try and sell recorded music.’

  ‘He sold out his entire stock of two hundred copies over the following two weekends and his next shipment of five hundred copies from Half Moon Bay Express arrived a week later. Being out of stock actually helped increase demand on the bush telegraph: then and still the most effective form of record promotion.

  ‘The five hundred copies, all at a special price of four pounds fifty (to customers, three pounds seventy-five to the shops) all went within a week. This time he used his little green book of Blues by Five gigs and record stores and he sold to mates in Manchester, Birmingham, Bristol, Brighton, Bath, Edinburgh and Newcastle. Soon all the stores were on to him for more copies of Half Moon Bay Express and he had another shipment sent over from America: this time a thousand copies, and a month later a further thousand copies. Peter was paying the band less than a pound per copy. He was making serious profit.

  ‘His network of shops were all becoming very friendly with him – there’s nothing like success to encourage success. They soon began to inquire about any other similar records he could get his hands on. Peter took a thousand copies of each of Half Moon Bay Express’ first two records and started to quiz Adam Francis, the band’s bass player and Peter’s contact in the group. Peter promised Adam if he looked after the American side of things, purchasing and shipping the records then he (Peter) would look after Adam.

  ‘So Adam came up with Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Pure Prairie League and also found out that Van Morrison’s new album Moondance was going to be released in America six weeks before it would hit the UK shops. Van’s previous album, Astral Weeks had become the bedsitter/hippie classic of the early seventies. Peter predicted that the demand for the follow-up, Moondance would be phenomenal. He ordered five thousand copies.

  ‘As Van’s records were released on Warner Bros, Adam Francis was forced, due to lack of contacts, to pay nearly two pounds per record. Peter knew how committed Van’s fans were and priced the albums at four pounds ninety-five each. The entire five thousand copies sold out over the first weekend including an incredible six hundred and eighty copies through Camden Records. This time Peter had taken two adverts, one in Melody Maker and another in a new London magazine, Time Out.

  ‘At the end of that weekend, Peter sat down, worked out his sums and sent a cheque for five hundred pounds to Martyn Farrelly, who returned it immediately claiming the initial cheque had been a present, not a loan.’

  ‘Was Farrelly not annoyed about not being an official part of Camden Town Records? After all, without his money there would not have been a company,’ Kennedy asked, though conscious he might have upset Russell’s flow.

  The solicitor thought carefully for a few minutes. ‘No I don’t think so,’ he said slowly and then speeded back up into his story. ‘Now that Peter knew the system and how to work it, he needed a challenge. He had been thinking for some time about the possibility of putting out a proper Camden Town Records release, instead of just distributing someone else’s.

  ‘There was a young R&R band called Radio Cars, who he’d been to see a few times and was quite impressed by. What they lacked in musical ability they made up for with visual excitement. Their lead singer, Andy, was quite wild on stage. Peter invited Radio Cars to the office for a meeting. Camden Town Records had the floor above the Regent Bookshop on Parkway and his record label was run from the back storage room. He made an agreement with them to release an EP.

  ‘Radio Cars had already been to a four-track demo studio and had recorded six of their best live numbers – no frills, no production – just as close a representation of their live sound as they could get. One of the songs was a cover of an early Them classic, “Mystic Eyes”.

  ‘They didn’t draw up a formal agreement, that wasn’t Peter’s style. He just put his thoughts down on a scrap of paper, saying how he saw them working together, how many copies of the EP he would press, the unit cost for pressing them, how much the sleeves would cost, how much the band would receive for each copy sold – no percentages, no deductions. Twenty pence for every copy sold and he’d sell them to the band for a pound each. They all agreed and added their names at the end of the scrap of paper.

  ‘He pressed up a thousand copies initially. The thousand were devoured immediately. Peter now became adventurous and pressed up an additional five thousand; they sold out immediately. Another five thousand and they were gone as quick as he could press the records and print the sleeves. The back of Camden Records looked like a bomb site, sleeves, records, flyers everywhere.

  ‘It wasn’t that the music was great or polished or professional or slick, in fact it was none of these things. But Radio Cars and a lot of similar bands were selling underground around England as a reaction against the pomp rock and the likes of Rod Steward and Elton John, who were more interested in talking about blondes and money (respectively) than in making good music.

  ‘The small bands, who had been squeezed out by record companies too busy ass-licking the likes of Rod, Elton and ELP, were taking matters into their own hands, making their own music and getting it out. This movement, and it was more than just punk, was starting to take over the asylum, with the help of independent-minded people like Peter O’Browne.

  ‘Anyway, Peter decided that he needed help and enlisted another friend from Trinity College, Tom Best. Tom was another vinyl junkie, who originally hailed from Belfast, and had an eye, and ear, for the obscure. Peter quickly introduced Tom to the Camden Town Records set-up and network of friends who sold their records,’ Russell enthused.

  ‘Ah, so Tom Best wasn’t involved in the record shop, just the record company?’ Kennedy had thought Tom had started working for Peter at the time of the shop.

  ‘Yes, just the record company. Tom Best had no job description, he just did anything and everything that needed doing. He was ambitious and saw the potential of their blossoming cottage industry. Tom Best began to cultivate a relationship with the press, seeing this as being an economical and quick way of drawing attention to Camden Town Records’ releases.

  ‘Radio Cars were now venturing out of London for gigs and were selling out each and every club they played in. They also sold a copy of their EP to every second person in attendance. Eventually Peter’s network demanded a Radio Cars album, so Peter brought the boys back in (this time to an even more packed office) to go through the figures, jot them down on a scrap of paper and give the boys a copy of the same. Peter (Camden Town Records) would put up the money Radio Cars needed to record the album and buy the band some new amps, guitars and drum kit, which he would take back from the initial sales.

  ‘He worked out, so that the group could see, that including the printing of sleeves and pressing of records, they would need to sell in the region of ten thousand copies. On e
very record they sold over ten thousand copies he would pay them a pound per record. Camden Town Records pressed fifteen thousand copies of their (and Radio Cars’) first album release, After Russia, What Next?, given the serial number, NW1. Radio Cars were at last the album band they had dreamed of becoming.

  ‘The fifteen thousand copies took exactly two and a half days to sell and the album entered the charts at number thirty-seven. They suffered in this position slightly due to the fact that not all of Peter’s network were chart return shops. But the band didn’t worry too much: After Russia, What next? was in the national album charts, a dream come true. More importantly, the girls were now paying attention to their Camden Sound and cool stage suits, which were really a Beatles collarless jacket rip-off.

  ‘The following week, the record dropped to forty-nine in the charts due mainly to the album being unavailable. Peter pressed another fifteen thousand copies and shipped them to the shops in time for the album to jump back up to thirty-two in the next chart. Then the album plotted its way further up the charts, twenty-eight to twenty-five to twenty-one, dropped to twenty-two (oops), then back up until it leaped into the top ten and all hell broke loose as every shop in the country placed orders for Radio Cars’ After Russia, What next?

  ‘Unfortunately for Peter, these new shops, outside his network, wanted to deal differently. The network shops paid Peter as they reordered. The new shops, spoilt by the majors, wanted twenty-eight days’ credit and discounts and the freedom to return what they didn’t sell. Peter either had to go along with it, which meant fronting the money himself, or, stick to his network, and watch the group fall down the charts. The album had by now sold fifty-eight thousand copies and normally everyone would have been delighted. But the group and their newly-appointed manager, Mr Jason Carter-Houston, were hungry for more chart success.

  ‘Peter O’Browne decided to stick to his network shops, feeling the new shops could cripple him if they took advantage of their returns facility. Some of the new stores accepted Camden Town Records’ cash up-front policy but most didn’t, so the following week the album dropped to eighteen and then moved further down to twenty-six and then thirty-one and finally out of the Top Fifty altogether.