“Yeah.”
“You’re in Columbia Law School, right?”
“Uh huh.”
The young man appeared to be a little nervous. He fidgeted in his seat and couldn’t keep his leg from bouncing.
“How are you holding up, Joshua?” Berenger asked.
“I’m all right, I guess.”
“I’m really sorry about your dad. I knew him a long time.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. I understand how you might feel, me working for the defense and all.”
“That’s okay. Adrian’s my half-brother.” Joshua shrugged.
“Are you and Adrian close?” Berenger asked.
Joshua smirked. “Are you kidding? We have nothing to do with each other. I see him once in a blue moon and we might exchange a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ but that’s about it. If we do have a conversation at all it’s usually about how much he hates our father.”
“Do you have much of a relationship with his mother?”
“Gina? Nah. My mom can’t stand her. I guess I’m supposed to follow suit.” He chuckled a bit. “It’s all pretty silly, if you ask me.”
“Why do you think there’s such bad blood between them? I mean, Flame had divorced Gina long before he and your mom got together.”
“That’s a good question,” Joshua said. “I really don’t know. You’ll have to ask my mom that one. Gina’s always been pretty nice to me. Maybe mom was embarrassed for her all those years that Gina had the party-girl reputation. And that kooky Gina the Gypsy stuff. Gina always got more publicity than my mom ever did.”
Berenger nodded but said, “Well, your mom was a bit of a party girl at one time, too.”
“I know. Don’t ask me to explain those women.” He smiled sheepishly.
“Why do you think Flame stayed on good terms with your mom and not with Gina?”
“Again, I don’t know the answer to that one. I think it’s because Gina really gave my dad a hard time when they divorced. She tried to take him to the cleaners and he didn’t like it. They were pretty nasty to each other, from what I understand.”
Berenger remembered the tabloids. It was indeed a messy divorce and it played out much like John and Cynthia Lennon’s did in the late sixties.
“As for my mom,” Joshua continued, “I guess they simply stayed friends. They respected each other’s spaces. I thought my dad would get really angry at mom over the IRS business but he didn’t. He supported—”
“Hold on,” Berenger interrupted. “What IRS business?
Joshua expression suddenly went to one of self-reproach. “Oh, uhm, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Shit. I guess it’s not common knowledge.”
“What is it, Joshua? Can you tell me?”
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Mom’s being investigated by the IRS for possible tax evasion.” He laughed sardonically. “Don’t tell her I told you.”
“I won’t.”
Tax evasion? Damn, Berenger thought. Carol Merryman flaunted her wealth. Could it be possible that she might be embezzling from Flame Productions? He decided to change the subject.
“So why do you think your dad and Adrian were such enemies?” he asked as tactfully as he could.
Joshua made a face as if to say, ‘don’t you know?’ “I don’t like to talk about my brother this way but everyone knows he’s an asshole. It’s like he has this entitlement thing going. He thinks just ‘cause he’s Flame’s son he can have a free ride through life. I could have had that attitude, too, but I don’t. I mean, I’m going to college and all that. I want to make my own money and have my own life, not ride on a celebrity’s coattails.”
“And your father didn’t like Adrian’s attitude?”
“No way. He didn’t like moochers. Dad really liked his money, if you know what I mean. He wasn’t a very charitable guy, I’m sorry to say.”
“But you got along with him okay?”
“Sure. Yeah, we were friends. But you know, as close as we were, I never saw him. We lived in the same city but I never saw him. I mean, he wasn’t on tour that much. I wish… I wish we could have spent more time together, that’s all. I’ll miss him a lot.” Joshua looked away and stared at the cathedral across the street.
“Were you surprised to inherit his estate?”
Joshua turned back and said, “Hell, yes. I thought it would go to mom.” He chuckled slightly. “She did too.”
“Did that cause any problems?”
“Not really. Mom’s a good sport. She’s still in charge for a year so she’ll get something out of it. I don’t know, maybe I’ll let her have it anyway.”
“Why would you do that?”
The young man turned up his hands. “What the hell do I know about rock ‘n’ roll? I have nothing to do with the music business. I know nothing about it and never wanted to. I want to be a lawyer, not run the great Peter Flame’s estate. To tell you the truth, I have no desire whatsoever to be in charge of Flame Productions.”
“You could always hire other people to manage it. Then all you have to do is sit back and rake in the dough.”
“I know. That’s probably what I’ll do. But even so, there’s still a lot to do. I’d have to make a lot of decisions about what kinds of archival recordings to release and stuff like that. There’s tons of unreleased material in the vault. Live concerts, bunches of studio outtakes, whole albums that never saw the light of day…”
“That’s a potential goldmine.”
“You’re telling me. And you wouldn’t believe all the vultures circling around it, too. I’m getting ‘advice’ from just about everyone associated with my dad.”
“Like who?”
“Well, everyone. Al Patton, my mom, Dave Bristol… you name ‘em. Anyone who has a vested interest in my father’s music from a business standpoint stands to gain from him dying. It’s going to be up to me and my mom to control the floodgates.”
Berenger finished his pastry and downed the coffee. “Who would want to kill your father?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have any ideas of who’d want to kill him?”
“Adrian did it, Mister Berenger.”
“You’re so sure about that?”
“Well… yeah. I mean, the cops arrested him and all. There’s evidence against him. He must be guilty. They wouldn’t have arrested him if there wasn’t a case.”
“A man is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, Joshua.”
“I know, I know. I’m studying law, remember?”
“Then you should know that police can make mistakes. District Attorneys can make mistakes. Adrian’s in a fight for his reputation and for his life. You have to understand that we’re going to do everything we can to show the court that the prosecution doesn’t have a case. This thing will never go to trial, Joshua.”
“But he did it, Mister Berenger. I know he did.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know Adrian. He’s always said he’d like to kill my dad someday. That’s one of the few things he ever said to me. And he said it more than once. Adrian’s a mean, spoiled jerk. It’s like he hates the world and everyone in it. I’m convinced he certainly has it in him to commit murder. And he hated my father. Adrian had the motive and the means to do it. Mister Berenger, I believe the police got the right guy.”
12
Band on the Run
(performed by Wings)
Berenger skipped lunch and headed downtown to see Kenny Franklin and the members of Flame’s current touring band. Franklin had told him they would be in a mid-town recording studio all day long. Berenger decided to take public transportation. He walked to the IRT subway line and figured he’d ride the train to Times Square, get off there, and walk over to Sixth Avenue, formally known as Avenue of the Americas although no one in New York called it that.
Before boarding the train, Berenger phoned R
emix and asked him to hack into the IRS server (which he had done on numerous occasions) and get the scoop regarding Joshua’s claim that Carol Merryman was being investigated for tax evasion. Remix added it to his “to do” list. Berenger then got on the train and reflected on his meeting with Joshua Duncan. It had gone about as well as he expected. What struck him the most about Joshua was that the young man seemed to be terribly unhappy. This was a kid who had everything—money, opportunities, a bright future—and yet Joshua Duncan exuded an attitude of defeat. Perhaps it was just the lad’s introverted personality to which Berenger reacted, but there was shyness and then there was shyness. Berenger believed Joshua to be clinically depressed. Of course, the boy had just lost his father so that might have something to do with it.
Berenger arrived at the studio a little after noon. It was located in a commercial district on Sixth Avenue at 39th Street. He went inside and up the flight of stairs to the second floor, into the makeshift lobby, and through the door marked “Private.” This led into a corridor that separated the studio and control room from the main office, kitchen/break room, and washrooms. It wasn’t a state of the art studio by any means but it had all the necessary accouterment.
Kenny Franklin sat at the mixing board, puffing on a cigarette and concentrating on a guitar riff that Dewey Wayne was attempting to perform. The other members of the band—Zig Rubel, Corky Clark, and Chas Miller—sat in the studio with Wayne, watching intently and staying silent.
“Hi, Spike,” Franklin said, not turning his head. “Come on in, we’ll be able to take a break in a minute.”
“No rush, Kenny.”
Berenger stood and listened. Wayne was playing a Gretsch Electromatic Hollow Body guitar and it sounded good. The piece had a Spanish flamenco feel and Berenger was curious how the rest of the song fit with it.
“Dewey can play,” Berenger commented.
“Sure he can,” Franklin answered. “He only got to play bass in Flame’s band ‘cause Flame was the guitarist. Dewey’s doing double duty on guitar and bass on these recordings.”
“So they’re carrying on without Flame?”
“Yeah. Dewey and Zig asked me to come in and act as engineer today. They’re trying to put together a new act and wanted to know what I thought.”
“Do they have a name?”
“Not yet. But they’ve got some good material. Stuff Flame would never let them play. We laid down a track this morning that was kick-ass. We’re working on number two now. They’re hoping to put together a demo with four or five songs and then flog it to managers around town. Al Patton said he’d give it a listen but I don’t put too much hope there. He says that to everyone and then never does it.”
Wayne finished the riff and asked, “How was that, Kenny?”
Franklin turned on the mike and spoke to the band from the control room. “That was good. I think we should take a lunch break, though. I can tell you’re tired, Dewey. Let’s have some grub and I bet you’ll do a better take after some rest.”
“Okay.”
The guys came out of the studio and met Franklin and Berenger in the break room. It was equipped with a microwave oven, refrigerator, vending machines, a couple of couches, and two small tables and chairs.
“Hi, Spike,” Wayne said. “Whatcha doing here?”
“Hi, Dewey. Sounded good in there.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m here to ask you guys some questions about Flame, if you don’t mind. Kenny agreed to talk to me earlier and I figured I’d kill several birds with one stone, if you know what I mean.”
Wayne shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind.” He turned to the other band members. “You guys know Spike Berenger?”
Berenger had never officially met the other members but they all knew who he was. After a series of handshakes and “nice to meet you’s” the men sat around the room. Two of them retrieved sack lunches from the fridge and another bought a Coke from the vending machine.
“You gonna eat, Kenny?” Miller asked.
“I thought I’d go out and hit McDonald’s or something after we talk to Spike.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“This won’t take long, will it, Spike?”
Berenger shook his head. “Shouldn’t think so. I just have a handful of questions.”
“Spike here is working for the defense, just so you know,” Franklin explained.
Berenger felt a sudden coolness in the room. He felt obligated to say, “Just ‘cause I’m working for Adrian Duncan doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize with you guys. Flame was a friend of mine, too.”
At first no one said anything but then Zig Rubel snorted and replied, “I wouldn’t say we were really friends with Flame. Would we?”
The others shook their heads.
“What do you mean?” Berenger asked.
“He treated us like second-class citizens for the most part,” Rubel continued. “Like he could always go out and get another backup band if he wanted. He was always holding that over our heads.”
“Is that true?” Berenger asked Franklin.
The tour manager nodded. “Yeah, Flame was a hard guy to work for. He was a perfectionist when it came to his band.”
Chas Miller spoke up. “But it was okay if he made mistakes on stage.”
The others murmured agreement. Rubel continued, “Look, I probably speak for everyone here. We’re sorry about what happened to him, we really are. The guy was a legend and we all had a lot of respect for him. But… well, hell, I don’t know. He was getting sloppy, wouldn’t you say?”
Dewey Wayne agreed. “Yeah. You were at our last show, weren’t you, Spike?”
“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t.”
“Oh. Well, Flame was really off that night. He messed up a lot.”
Corky Clark chimed in. “No one noticed but us, though. The fans didn’t care.”
“No, the fans cared more about what we were playing rather than how we were playing it,” Rubel said.
Berenger used that as a lead-in to his next question. “Are you saying you didn’t agree with Flame’s current musical direction?”
Rubel shook his head. “I’m not sayin’ nothin’ like that. We’ve been playing with Flame for five years and we’re happy to have the work. I’m just sayin’ the audience might have preferred he didn’t play the religious stuff.”
Berenger addressed all of them. “Is that how all of you feel?”
They shrugged and murmured affirmatively. Chas Miller added, “We were hired guns. We had no vested interest in the band other than a regular paycheck. But now since Flame’s gone, we thought—hey, we have something good going here. We click together. Instead of just going our separate ways, why not give it a shot and continue? We’re a band and we decided to run with it.”
“I take it none of you are members of the Messengers?” Berenger asked.
That elicited more snorts and chuckles. Corky Clark said, “Hey, I’m a Christian but I’m not sure what to call those people.”
Rubel spoke again. “Actually Flame wanted us to join. That was another thing he hung over our heads. He told me flat out that I needed to join the Messengers during the break between tours or I might not be coming back to the band.”
“Really?” Franklin asked.
“He pretty much hinted the same thing to me,” Dewey Wayne answered. “He didn’t give me an ultimatum like that, though. It was more of a ‘I sure wish you guys would join the Messengers and I’d feel a lot better about keeping you in the band if you did.’ It was a subtle threat, I guess. I actually went to one of their services to check it out.”
“What did you think?” Berenger asked.
“I thought it was bullshit. I mean, I’m not a very religious person to begin with but I believe in God and stuff. I had no idea what they were talking about. They wanted me to sign up and go on a retreat in Jamaica with the group before I could ‘fully appreciate’ what the Messengers had to say. I didn’t want to spend another hour with those fr
eaks, much less go away for a week with them.”
“Is that usual?” Berenger inquired. “Going away on a retreat?”
“Yeah, apparently all the new members go to their founding church in Jamaica.”
“And Flame went, too?”
Franklin answered him. “Yeah, he went way back at the beginning. Right after he got out of rehab in 2000.”
Berenger found that interesting. He’d have to find out more about the Messengers’ so-called “retreat.”
“All right,” he said. “I want each of you to think about this before answering. Is there anything you know that might indicate someone else’s guilt in Flame’s murder?”
The men looked at each other, shrugged, and shook their heads. Rubel said, “I wasn’t surprised when I heard they’d arrested Adrian.”
“Me neither.”
“Same here.”
“Tell me about that night at the last show,” Berenger said. “Everything you can remember.”
Franklin spoke first, vividly recalling that last concert at the Beacon Theater.
He was overseeing the many tasks associated with pre-show setup. When Franklin saw Dave Bristol come through the stage door accompanied by the other two Flame’s Heat members, Brick Bentley and Moe Jenkins, he knew that trouble was brewing. Still, Franklin greeted Bristol as an old friend, just as he should. The two men embraced and slapped each other on the back.
“Dave-o, my man,” Franklin had said. “I didn’t expect to see you!”
“We’ve been recording,” Bristol explained. “Al said we could drop by. Maybe Flame would let us join him on stage for a number or two.”
Franklin frowned. He hated when Al Patton did shit like that. Unfortunately, there was not a whole lot anyone could do to stop one of the most powerful music moguls in the world from doing what he wanted. Like everyone else, Patton was terribly unhappy that Flame disbanded Flame’s Heat and geared his music in a different direction.
“I don’t know, Dave,” Franklin had said. “You know how Flame feels about it.”
“Well, can we at least talk to him? Where is he?”
The Rock 'n Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - A Spike Berenger Anthology Page 10
