Life had continued to be bland but not melodramatic anymore and Carol accepted that part of her was dead. But the part that was still alive was not bad. Not bad at all. And the sex was quite lively again, she always knew how to tweak Barry’s buttons there and have the orgasm she wanted, even if she had to climb all over him to get it.
Now the ugly past had come back. The phantom who had caused the fall from grace of Barry and his band. That’s what he’d become to Carol. A ghost, not a real person. A name, an image, an evil person, faceless and disappeared into the distance of times long gone and forgotten.
CHAPTER 18
At the sound of door chimes. Barry jerked into life, and Carol gently calmed him with her hand on his chest. She didn’t want him to get up but he insisted, sleepy but master of his house.
“S’okay, I’ll go.”
As Barry approached the front door he saw two male heads behind the pebbly glass inserts, but fearlessly opened up to find Tony and Freddie standing there. He knew Tony immediately, but his mouth fell open, surprised to see him. The young black guy was wearing a good quality gray chauffeur’s uniform and cap, therefore needing no explanation.
“Hallo, Barry. Pete asked me to bring something for you. This ’ere’s Freddie. Can we come in? Take your cap off, lad.”
“Hiya Freddie, come on in, here into the sitting room. My God, Tony, how come you look just the same? Easy life is it, taking care of the superstar?”
Tony grinned and shrugged off the question, knowing Barry was overcome with awkwardness, turning around in circles as he led them into the house, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to call for Carol. He grinned over his shoulder at Tony as he gestured with his eyes up there, and down to his half-dressed condition. A cocky boys’ exchange about what they’d been interrupted doing in the middle of the afternoon
“Carol! We got company. ’ow about some tea?”
“Go put the kettle on, Freddie,” said Tony. “He’s good in the kitchen, right through there is it?”
Barry took Freddie’s cap and Tony’s coat and scarf, grinning foolishly.
“Some things never change, mate,” said Tony, embracing the question and everything around him with a chuckle. He went directly to the big sofa in the living room, sat down and reached in his pocket for a folded envelope, handing it up to Barry.
“There’s two checks in there. Don’t put them both in at once. He doesn’t want your bank asking you tax questions, you know. Save the second one for at least a month.”
“Yeah, bet our Pete knows all the tax dodges.” Barry couldn’t resist taking a peek inside the envelope, after tearing at it roughly, and his eyes lit up.
“Two fives? I can’t believe it, he said five.”
“Don’t be overwhelmed, Barry. He’s very aware you don’t get royalties from the old material, as he wrote everything, though it’s not huge, mind you, pays the housekeeping.”
Barry’s eyes were shining as he studied the checks. Then he poked around inside the envelope.
“No note?”
“What, Pete put anything in writing?”
“Yeah, right. Silly me. Thanks anyway, mate. And thanks for coming all the way up here with it. I don’t get it. Doesn’t he trust ’er Majesty’s mail either?”
“No, it wasn’t just that, Barry. Something I want to discuss with you. Don’t worry about Freddie. Knows everything, and cares about none of it. Anyway the boss got him to sign a disclaimer so he’s not much use to the tabloids and he gets a nice salary.”
“I can hear him in the kitchen talking to Carol.”
“He’s a good lad, doesn’t drink, but he loves to eat. Cake, cookies…”
“Plenty of that here.”
“Thought so. You’ve got that look. Never mind, I’ll get straight to the point. Understand you know all there is to know about this whacko Mr. X character. I need some background, want to locate him.”
Barry sat down beside Tony with a thump, and an amazed look.
“I can’t believe this. Locate him? You? What for? It’s what I’ve been thinking ever since Pete told me. It’s driving me mad, Carol too, she’s ’ad it with me, going on about King Leo, like she said I’m making some kind of god of him. No-one understands. I can’t let him get away with it, what he did to me, to us I mean.”
“Slow down, man.” Tony reached over and gently shook Barry by one shoulder, looking him deep in the eyes.
“Why don’t you start by giving me the Acid King’s real name?”
“It’s Leonard Rivkin.”
“Don’t get worked up, she’s right, it’s not worth it. This is just business. Pete hasn’t said a word. This is my decision, not his. I don’t like to have untidy stuff around the place. That’s what he is, Mister Rivkin. Litter.”
The two middle aged men sat squashed up together on a worn sofa, sharing a moment of manic insanity, too far out of reach for normal people. They understood each other, it was briefly comforting. Barry broke the spell by bouncing to his feet and rubbing damp palms on his jeans.
“Don’t move, I’ve got everything on the man, it’s all in the scrapbooks. I’ll be right back. Ah, tea! Carol, this is my old friend Tony Winston, one of the original group. Now he’s Pete’s er…?”
“Right hand man. That’s what Pete likes to call me.”
Tony rose to his feet as he said this and took the heavy loaded tray out of Carol’s hands, looking at her full in the eyes with a very warm smile. Carol returned his smile with a new glow.
CHAPTER 19
Pete’s House – Tony’s Bedroom
It was almost 1 a.m., when Tony got home, after dropping off Freddie in Fulham, a perfect time to make that transatlantic call. Thanks to his network of music biz buddies he knew exactly where to find the Swindon Lodge tour itinerary and reach Reggie Banfield, a long-time friend who could provide him with some information. He used his private line.
CHAPTER 20
Jacksonville, Florida
In a typically bland chain hotel room for Swindon Lodge’s continuing big band tour, Reggie picked up the ringing phone, still dozing off in front of the television, and answered it with authority from force of habit.
“Banfield here.”
“Reggie! Tony Winston.”
“’Allo darlin’. What’s up?”
“Not much. You know, life in the country manor with the squire. What about you? Rough is it? On the road with his Lordship?”
“Not bad this time. Bet yours is just the same on tour.”
“Yes mate, worse in fact. Which is why he never does it any more, seeing as there’s no one left to take the aggro, now he doesn’t actually have a band. Best for all of us he prefers staying at home putting it together technically. He likes producing, it gives him lots of time to tinker.”
“It’s all about control, I think. What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for someone in Los Angeles, I need a private eye type who can help track him down. I was thinking of that security guy everyone uses, built like a shit house door, used to be a football player, you know the one.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s gotta be Vince Axle. Smashed ankle took him out of the game. You’re right, his company’s into all areas of security. I’ll give you his number. What’s he done, then, the perpetrator? Apart from making a big mistake if he’s pissed off your angry little geezer.”
“Oh, money of course… unpaid royalties, that kind of stuff. He can’t help himself, Pete, being vengeful with an elephant’s memory. It comes from all the wasted years. Anyway I got the guy’s real name, but he hasn’t used it for ages apparently. So we need to dig around to trace his current name. Sounds like Vince Axle is my man.”
“Give us a second, I’ll get my book.”
***
Tony didn’t waste a stroke, sizing up the two numbers on his pad, noting from his slim expensive watch that the security company office wouldn’t be open. He’d try home first. He got lucky, Vince answered right away. Tony introduced hi
mself, briefly described what he wanted, and his ears heard just the right answers. Vince was too young at thirty-seven to have any ties to the rock and roll legends he served so well, but he was suitably deferential and knew most of the names.
“I’ll do my best to find the missing person, but if you say his last contact was Madeleine Raleigh when she was on a recent trip to L.A., then I was her last contact. She came to see Swindon Lodge at the Rose Bowl, few nights ago. I was on the VIP gate.”
“Was she with anyone?”
“Madeleine Raleigh? No, she arrived alone. But she left with two people, who must have been on the management’s list if she met them in there. Want me to check that for you?”
“Not to worry, I can ask Reggie, he’s where I got your number. I’ve got the itinerary here.”
“Yeah, they’ve got two more gigs in Florida. Okay then, tomorrow morning I’ll try for a security check on this name, even if he hasn’t used it for years. Worth the shot. They’ll run it through all kinds of records. Could take a while. I’ll get right on it first thing tomorrow.”
“Good. Just call me when you get something. No, better idea, call Reggie, I’ll give you his cell number, I want to keep it between ourselves for now.”
“You want me to follow up on any of this?”
“Not until we talk. Thanks. And give me some idea of your rates now, and your address so I can send you an advance, I can wire it to your bank if you like.”
CHAPTER 21
The M1 – Heading South – Monday
Carol gripped the steering wheel with patient determination, the qualities a nurse inherited from her job, and in her particular case, minding the turbulent life of Barry Turnbull, slumped asleep in the seat beside her, snoring lightly. The little Ford Prefect kept its own consistent pace, battling along in the slow lane, well behind the capabilities of all the cars that swooped by them, but as intent as its passengers on getting there in the end.
Barry opened his eyes but stayed in a slouched position, gazing moodily into the distance. Carol noticed he was awake.
“You’re still convinced, Barry, this is a wise thing to do?”
“No, not wise, but I just gotta, that’s all. Unfinished business. It can get on your tit if you let it, and you know what?”
She waited for him to continue his train of thought.
“I’m getting too old to be carrying this thing much longer.”
“Yeah, you are getting on a bit.”
“Enough of your bloody mouth, Miss know it all. Just keep driving.”
“I won’t, if you start annoying me. I’ll just drive into the first food stop and leave you there, miserable bugger…”
“Hey, I fancy some chips. That’s a good idea. When’s the next one?” He leaned over and squeezed her knee suggestively, making her squeak. You know I don’t mean any of it, love. I just take it out on you.”
“You can say that again. Here we go. Five miles to the next rest stop.”
***
Nicely stuffed with a hefty portion of halibut and chips washed down with three cups of strong sweet tea, Barry dozed off again, in spite of a blurring montage of press clippings and familiar images frozen in time. Pete and Barry leaving court after the sentencing, theatrical bravado forcing Pete to wave his manacled hands at the crowd, laughing while Barry kept his eyes down, away from the adoring fans, ashamed and terrified.
Sleep wafted Barry into an actual memory for the first time in all those years, not the images but how it felt to be there when he realized that doom had struck and incarceration was the verdict, his stomach threatening to rip apart with pain. How long the dream lasted he didn’t know, probably just seconds, but the horror came up from inside and sucked him into an abyss of black despair. He wanted to wake up but he couldn’t. He struggled against it but something kept him there, forcing him to remember.
Barry flailed his arms and moaned in a way that brought Carol out of her own thoughts in a second. She reached out and gripped Barry’s arm and spoke very sharply.
“Barry. It’s alright. It’s alright. I’m here. Wake up. Come on Barry.”
She saw that tears were running down his face and she felt the agony for him. Barry took the clean tissue she passed him and nodded.
“S’okay, Carol. I’m okay. I just went back there, Carol. It was so vivid, that’s never happened before. I can handle it, honestly.”
“Did you take your valium?”
“No.”
“Well, take it. Right now. And don’t do that to me for Christ’s sake, Barry. There’s some water. Get it down. And pull yourself together. In twenty-five minutes we’ll be there. What do you think of this countryside?”
“It’s beautiful. Makes me really hate him.”
“Well, that’s helpful. We’ve got to go through with this thing now, I’m dreading it, quite honestly, I’m just doing it for you. I still wish you’d called ahead.”
“No! I can read him too well. Didn’t want him to know we’re coming.”
“Can you imagine what it’s like for me? I’m sure that Chinese girlfriend is a cold fish, and he will be totally grand, you know it. He’ll treat us like the poor relations.”
“That’s what we are, darlin’, it’s all attitude. Make out like you don’t give a fuck.”
CHAPTER 22
Pete’s House, Virginia Water
In the kitchen Tony was hunched over the dining table, working on accounts, while his mother polished the top of the oven. The peaceful atmosphere was broken by a very loud series of buzzes.
“Hey, Mum, someone at the gate. Want to get it for me? Just adding up here.”
Outside the defensive wrought iron gates of the Stebbings estate, the Ford Prefect parked nearby with the engine running, and Carol gripping the steering wheel. Barry leaned into the intercom punching numbers at random. When the crackle of static and the kindly woman’s voice came through, Barry announced himself, barely controlling the nerves in his voice.
“This is bloody embarrassing,” Carol hissed as the gate slowly opened and Barry leapt into the car as if there were no time to catch it before it closed again.
CHAPTER 23
Pete’s Recording Studio
“Look, don’t go on about it, Barry. We can cope.”
Pete paced around the room while Barry slouched resentfully in a seasoned leather Chesterfield armchair, feeling as small as he looked in it, and noting the aristocratic surroundings and Pete’s impeccable casual clothes.
“We’ve got tons of room here. Carol’s getting on fine with Tony’s mother, they’re messing about in the kitchen just like old pals. You can stay for a few days, just don’t look at me like you want me to feel fucking guilt for being successful, it’s pissing me off.”
Barry shot him a withering look.
“How about a beer, then?” Pete offered.
“Oh, all this, and you’re still drinking beer?”
“Would you rather have champagne?”
“No, fer crying out loud. A beer’s fine. Don’t you have to ring for the staff? You know, pull one of them ropes by the fireplace?”
“You’re a sarcastic bastard, Barry. I have a bar fridge in here. Heineken okay?”
“I’ll take it. No glass.”
“You’re not getting one. I’m going to play you some tracks now, whether you like it or not. It’s what I’m working on currently, and you can get belligerent about it after, I don’t care, just bloody listen.”
They both tipped their bottles back and savored the cold beer. A hint of a smile touched Barry’s mouth as he wiped it.
“Sorry, man, I’m just going through giant therapy stuff right now. The past came up and hit me in the face, and I’m kind of wallowing in it. Thinking about you and how our lives went in different directions. Weird, isn’t it?”
“We dealt with it in different ways, I did my crack-up in Jamaica. Ganja, sex and reggae got me through it. It was a nightmare hearing about you going over the top like that but I couldn’t h
ave helped you for one second. Couldn’t even help Madeleine, she went off the deep end worse than both of us, then marrying that creep.”
“I understand that creep saved her life and turned it around.”
“Did you ever hear she had our daughter and didn’t tell me for years?”
“Yeah, quite recently I did. That struck me as being really weird.”
“She did it for me, said I couldn’t have coped, she was right about that. And it’s why she married little lord whatsit, so I thought the baby was his, pity he didn’t last long. Then she went off the rails again, and her mum took over. Charlotte’s a fantastic girl, wait till you meet her. She’s got more natural survivor’s guts than us all.”
Barry drained the bottle, lost in thought again.
“Ready for another? You know, face it Barry, we’re all miraculous survivors. Kids today would take the whole thing with more ease than we did. We were naïve about the power of the law, and pretty arrogant to think they wouldn’t try to wipe us out for being a public nuisance. We flaunted it, mate. We asked for it.”
“So why can’t we get over it?”
Pete’s eyes turned into slits at Barry’s question. But he said nothing, just turned his back and went over to the tape machines, flicking a switch to fill the room with of music. Straight off there was a rich, rhythmic roundness to the melody and Barry looked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected to like it so much and so soon.
After a few compelling bars of buildup, Pete’s voice came on, and it was magnificent. He moved around the room to the rhythm, not showing off yet, glancing often at Barry’s face to catch his reaction, liking what he saw. Barry’s music habit got to him, his body took up the beat and he grinned as Pete caught his eye this time and grinned back. The years fell away and they were kids in a band again.
The Acid King Page 6
