by T. N. Robb
Betts wiped off his hands with a rag. "Look, Cleary, if I'd done my job right, Billy Ray would still be alive. Let me in on the bust. I want a piece of these bastards. How about it?"
Cleary stared at him, struck by Betts's need to set his mind right about Billy Ray's death. Then he shook his head. "We've got at least one murder connected to that operation. It's time to bring in the cavalry and let the cops do their job. I got to make a quick stop at the office and then I'm heading down to see Fontana."
He looked around the parking lot of the trailer court, noticed a silhouette standing in the doorway of Betts's trailer, and knew immediately who it was. "I'm probably going to need you later, though. I want you to get some rest. You look like you had a rough night."
Betts nodded. "I was up most of the night."
Cleary looked at him for a moment. "I've had a few long nights myself."
"Hey, Cleary," he said, seeing his opportunity to ask him a personal question. He looked down, not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to ask. "You ever been... you know, crazy for someone?"
Cleary smiled, enjoying the sight of Betts coming clean about his feelings for Jesse. "You mean 'in love,' Betts? Is that what you're talking about?"
"Something like that, but more than that... like lost or something."
His smile faded. It was a long time since Cleary had fallen that hard. Probably not since he had met Ellen, his ex-wife. He didn't think about her much, because the thoughts always shifted to the bad period at the end when he had lost his job and was drinking. He had driven a wedge between them, and she had left him for someone else. Now, however, he recalled how it had been in the beginning, how his every thought had seemed to touch on her, and how she had seemed like the most perfect creature ever created. And all his.
"Yeah, I've been in that state. I know what you're talking about."
"Did it ever scare you?"
Cleary stared at him, not quite understanding what he meant.
"I think she wants more than I can give. I can't seem to make her happy." He saw Cleary's wary look. "No, it's not the sex. That part's fine. She just wants more of me. I can't explain it."
"Take some advice... give what you got."
Betts felt comforted by Cleary's solid logic. He smiled at him, feeling a little foolish at the same time. ''Thanks. Appreciate it."
Betts watched as Cleary pulled away. He glanced across the courtyard and saw Jesse standing in the doorway of the trailer watching him. He waved, picked up his wrench, and stuck his head back under the hood.
The Merc had been the number one priority in his life for a long time. He had never let another soul behind the wheel since he had bought it. Not until last night. Now he had to make up to the Merc, who had fallen to number two in the scheme of things.
A few minutes later, Jesse walked out of the trailer, carrying two cups of coffee. She was wearing her tight red calf-length pants this morning, and one of Johnny's black T-shirts that came down to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was combed back and tied in a ponytail, and despite her shortage of sleep she looked great. She always looked great.
She handed Betts one of the cups and blew on her cup as she studied him. "What were you and Cleary talking about out here?" she asked, and smiled at him.
He told her about the warehouse, and what Cleary had found. "It looks like a late night operation."
Jesse sipped her coffee, considering what he had said. "You mean that's where they're counterfeiting Billy Ray's records."
"Looks like it."
"Johnny, they stole his life, now they're stealing his music."
Betts looked at her. That was how she had been talking last night. After a couple of beers, she had started talking about conspiracies against rock and roll. He half believed her, but didn't want to get into it right now. "I think they were making the counterfeits first. And I don't know if those guys killed Billy Ray, Jesse. Hell, they were making a bundle on him. Why would they kill him?"
She shook her head, strands of her blond hair falling across her face. "Don't be so naive, Johnny. Listen to me. Those kind of people take someone like Billy Ray and squeeze the life out of him because he has something they're missing. He had talent and guts, and he was cool. You know how he was, Johnny. God, if you would have seen him in Texas."
She shook her head at the recollection. Billy Ray had become larger than life in her mind, a rock and roll martyr. "They can't allow that for long. They have to mold it the way they want it, control it, and then kill it. It's the only thing they know how to do."
Betts stared at her, nodded. He knew Jesse meant well, and, hell, she might know more about what was going on than he did. Besides, why shouldn't she say whatever she felt. Nothing wrong with letting it all hang out. It was like how he felt about the Merc. The car was his way of showing the world he wasn't just another Joe.
It was no coincidence that Jesse had been sitting behind the wheel of the Merc when he had vowed his love for her. She had taken over the number one place in his heart, had conquered his passion for the car. Then she had showed him she was as tough as steel, and as wild as he was. Untamed. Maybe even a little more wild, he conceded, and that was what he dug about her.
Yet he didn't feel right about what had happened last night at Dead Man's Curve. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of her speeding toward the cliff, straight toward their deaths. If she had waited a second longer to step on the brakes, they would have been over the cliff. But that really wasn't what was bothering him about it.
The point of it supposedly had been to prove her love. But now in the morning light he didn't think it had a damn thing to do with proving love. He was confused. He wasn't sure what it had proven.
As far as he was concerned, they didn't need to prove anything to each other. There'd never been anyone in his life who could hold a candle to Jesse. She had no rivals, never would. Just the thought of them being apart now felt like a cold hand ripping his heart out of his chest cavity. He couldn't take it. She had him. She wouldn't let go, and neither would he.
"A rock 'n' roller lives in his music," Jesse said. He looked up at her as she continued. "I'm not going to let them kill him twice."
Damn, if she wasn't the spirit and guts of rock and roll, the goddess and guardian of the music, Betts thought. She was its heart and soul, and she knew better than anyone what these bastards like Slade were trying to do to it.
She slammed the hood of the Merc down and locked eyes with Betts. "Let's not wait until it's too late. Let's do something. We've got to make things right."
SEVENTEEN
Dottie's Date
Dottie and Dwayne were sitting in a semiprivate back booth of a diner eating scrambled eggs and stealing glances at each other. Dottie hadn't quite expected things to get this carried away. In the couple of hours she had spent with Dwayne since she had started talking to him after the band had finished playing, she hadn't gotten anything of much value out of him about Billy Ray's murder. It was probably because she didn't want to find out anything that might implicate him.
Don't be such a pushover, Dottie. Do your job and get out of here.
She looked up from her plate of eggs determined to find out what was cooking in Dwayne's head about the murder. She started to say something, hesitated not knowing exactly how to put it. He looked at her and smiled. "What were you going to say?"
"Oh, nothing. Just excuse me." She picked up her purse, digging through it, pulled out her compact. A pen fell on the table as she did so. God, he must think I'm acting weird.
She squinted at herself in the mirror. Not bad for four in the morning. She put the compact away and took another bite of her eggs. She put down her fork and picked up the pen as she chewed. Suddenly she had an idea.
"Dwayne, can I ask you something, you know, sort of personal?"
He looked at her a bit defensively, as if he expected her to ask him about his girlfriends. "Maybe. What do you got in mind?"
"Well, I know this sounds kind o
f silly, but would you autograph my arm?'
"Your arm?"
"Yeah. I know it won't last forever, but nothing does, at least not for me. I want something to remember you by, you know, if we don't see each other again."
He shrugged, smiled shyly. "I'll tell you what. I'll autograph your arm and put down my phone number. That way you'll remember to call me, and we will see each other again. How's that?"
Dottie smiled, feeling bad, knowing she wouldn't, that she couldn't call him. "I like that." She handed him the pen. Then, instead of pulling up her sleeve, she pulled her blouse down over her shoulder. She leaned forward, and as she did, she gave Dwayne plenty of scenic landscape to ponder. She knew from the first moments they had met what part of her had snared his attention. And she knew his fascination for that prominent feature hadn't subsided.
"I love the way you strum your guitar," she said. "It was really nice of you to play for just me tonight. You're really good, you know."
He smiled, looked at her gratefully as he took her arm in his left hand and pressed the pen to her shoulder. But he couldn't keep his eyes form straying to her cleavage. He had told her that never in his life had he been so close to such a luscious pair. Warm, soft dreamsicles, he had called them.
"It makes me feel kind of, you know, tingly, just thinking that I've been with a rock and roll star," she said to him and meant it.
"Hell, I ain't no rock and roll star, Dottie. I didn't even know they had a name for it till I got to L.A. We never called it anything back home. We just played what came natural to us. That's all."
Dottie smiled and noted that Dwayne seemed in a mood to confide in her. "Let me assure you. When fans like me start asking for your autograph, that makes you a star. Nobody ever asked for my autograph, except on a speeding ticket."
"Billy Ray was the star. He stood out front in the lights."
She looked down at his name and phone number on her shoulder. "Then it must have been kinda hard for you standing back in his shadow."
He shrugged, looked away. "None of that matters now. That's the past."
Dottie gazed at him, working up to her next questions. "It happened at a party, right?"
Dwayne nodded.
"Were you there when he died?"
"I left early. I couldn't stand any more of the slick bullshit." He shook his head. "Not one of those people was on the level."
Neither was she, Dottie thought. She really liked Dwayne, and now she was feeling disgusted with herself for what she was doing.
"Billy Ray was getting to be like everyone else in this town."
"Whataya mean?"
"He was going to cut our manager out of a record deal we had going with our label."
Dottie nodded. She knew that was exactly the kind of interesting tidbit Cleary was hoping she would bring back. "He'd be losing a pretty big commission on a three-record deal, wouldn't he?"
As soon as she had spoken, she knew she had screwed up. Dwayne looked at her, puzzled. "How'd you know about that, Dottie?"
She sipped her coffee, trying to think of an answer. "Mm, it was in all the papers. You know... with the stories about Billy Ray after he died."
He nodded. "I couldn't read any of that."
He studied her a moment. "Old Calvin, that's our manager, couldn't be hurtin' too bad, though. Hell, just yesterday morning he plunked down six thousand in cash on a brand-new, fire-engine red Cadillac."
Dwayne grinned. "He always said you could tell if a man had finally made it when he owned a Cadillac that no one else ever sat their behind in."
"Has Calvin been doing a lot for the band since you guys came to L.A.?"
"Naw. He really didn't seem to care like he used to about the music. We were all gettin' kind of annoyed with him. I mean, he knew we had something special, but he didn't fight a bit to keep these slick guys from telling Billy Ray how to play."
He shrugged, finishing the last of his breakfast. "I guess he just got worn down."
Dwayne played with the sugar jar for a second, then looked at Dottie. She nodded sympathetically. "I can understand that. This town can wear the best of them down real fast."
"I know how Billy Ray felt about Calvin, but hell, he didn't even talk with the rest of us about it... you know, to ask what we thought. Didn't say a word, except that he'd already made the decision."
"That wasn't fair," Dottie said.
Dwayne looked her in the eye and took her hands in his. She gazed into his eyes and saw a lost sort of look, someone searching for love.
God, Dottie, look what you've got yourself into now. When are you going to learn?
"Dottie?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, you're the first real person I've met since I hit town. It's pleasant just sitting here talking with you. It really is."
"Thank you." She smiled, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. She hoped he wasn't going to ask to see her again, because she knew what she would have to say.
"What do you do here? You never told me when I asked before."
"Oh"—she shrugged, looked down at her empty plate—"I'm just a steno in an office. I'm working at being an actress, though." She looked up at him, realizing it was okay for her to talk about her acting career. "I've had a few small parts. Well, usually they're just walk-on parts with no lines. I'm going to be on 'Dragnet.' You know, that cop show. I don't know when it's coming on, though. They don't tell you that kinda thing."
"Let me know, and I'll watch it."
She laughed. "There's not much to see. I'm just kind of lying there on the road, dead."
"Oh. Hey, it's a start"
She smiled. Dwayne was the kinda guy that really could grow on a chick, she thought. But she knew there was no chance of anything developing. Once he found out she worked for Cleary, it would be all over. And she didn't want him to ever know. It would hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do to Dwayne.
"I gotta go, Dwayne."
He nodded. "I wanna see you again, Dottie."
She looked at him, frowned. "I don't think so. I mean I like you alot but I've got a boyfriend who'd get pretty mad if he found out I was with you," she lied.
He looked down at the table. "Sure, I understand. He's got something special."
"Damn you, Cleary," Dottie yelled as she walked into the office. It was ten o'clock, and the place was already hot, and she was going to make it even hotter. "Don't you ever do me any favors like that again." She held her hands on her hips, staring at him.
"Let me guess," Cleary asked, leaning back in his chair. "Dwayne got frisky with you like the bongo player at the bowling alley."
"No... he didn't," she stammered. "He was a perfectly nice guy. I liked him, but what I did... I won't ever do that again, not even for you, Cleary! It made me feel cheap, and I don't want to feel that way anymore."
"You're a lotta things, Dworski, but cheap ain't one of'em."
Dottie managed a smile, knowing Cleary really meant it. She walked over to the reception desk and laid her purse down. She had said what she had told herself she had to say. Now she was cooling down and feeling better, especially after what Cleary had said to her. She walked back into his office.
"Calvin Pettys. Sounds like his ship came in." She started to explain what Dwayne had told her, when the phone rang.
Cleary picked it up, barked his name.
"I just got your message, Cleary. Tommy Slade. Whataya got for me?"
"I got a lead on the counterfeit recording plant... a warehouse on Spring. The cops will have it staked out within hours. I'm pretty sure that's where the counterfeit Billy Ray records are coming from."
"You're a very thorough man, Mr. Cleary. Keep me informed. I want to be the first to know what you find. Do you have any ideas on who would want to murder a hillbilly singer from Texas?"
"No. But I'd say that it's getting real unhealthy to make records for Silhouette."
"Find this guy, Cleary." Slade sounded worried. "I don't like surprises, and I especi
ally don't like the idea of looking over my shoulder."
Cleary hung up, looked over at Dottie. She finished telling him what Dwayne had said about Pettys. He stood and grabbed his coat. "I'm heading down to the Seventh Precinct to get some action on the warehouse. If Betts calls, tell him to stay home and wait until he hears from me."
He started to leave, stopped, turned around and frowned at her. "What are those numbers on your arm?"
"Oh"—she smiled, looking down at the ink marks sticking out below her sleeve—"Dwayne's phone number. See, he signed my shoulder." She pushed her sleeve up, showing off the autograph.
He nodded. "I'll pick you up an address book while I'm out."
EIGHTEEN
The Suspect
Cleary stormed into Fontana's office under a full head of steam. "I got it, Charlie... the warehouse. If we can get twenty-four-hour surveillance on it, we can break this thing wide open."
Fontana looked up from the papers on his desk. He didn't look excited.
"These counterfeit tapes are at the center of all this. You catch whoever's behind it, and you're going to get some answers about who blew up Archie Hammond and who knocked off Billy Ray."
Fontana stared impassively at Cleary. He tapped his pencil against his desk. "Jack, we already know who knocked off Billy Ray."
Cleary was stopped in his tracks. The comment had been delivered in an off-hand manner, yet with a deliberateness aimed at quashing Cleary's notions of stakeouts. There was something almost strange about the way Fontana was acting, he decided, and figured that he had been withholding the information from him.
"Since when?"
"Since about twenty minutes ago. We got ourselves a witness, someone at the party... walked right in here and laid it all out."
Cleary frowned, suspicious at the sudden revelation. "He did, huh? Then why don't you lay it out for me, Charlie? I'd be real interested."
"He saw the suspect and victim arguing by the side of the pool. They were both pretty drunk. The motive turned out to be some girl they both wanted. A little while later, the suspect was back at the party, but Billy Ray was never seen again, alive."
