The Rock 'n Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - A Spike Berenger Anthology

by Raymond Benson

  Patton froze. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath when he saw what was waiting for him on the sidewalk. Lieutenant Detective McTiernan, two other plainclothes detectives, and four police officers stood with weapons drawn.

  “Mister Patton,” McTiernan said. “I’d like you to turn around, place your hands against the wall, and spread your legs."

  “What is this?” Patton growled. He looked at Berenger. “You fuck!”

  “Sorry, Al,” Berenger said. “You gotta pay the piper.”

  The two plainclothes cops “helped” Patton turn and face the wall. As he was being frisked, McTiernan began the litany.

  “Mister Patton, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say…”

  Berenger walked away. He had heard the Miranda warning too many times in his day. It was music you couldn’t dance to.

  Everyone but Suzanne gathered in the Rockin’ Security conference room the next morning for a debriefing. Remix had put on Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives” as a joke to start off the meeting but Berenger told him to shut it off.

  “Ringo, what’s the word on Suzanne?” he asked.

  “The doctor says she’s doing great,” Mel announced. “She had some solid food for breakfast this morning. That’s four days ahead of schedule.”

  Bishop, Briggs, and Remix applauded.

  “You mean she actually kept that hospital shit down?” Remix asked.

  “Her prognosis is excellent and the doctor says she’ll make a full recovery,” Mel continued.

  “That’s good news,” Berenger said. “I hope everyone finds the time to go visit her once a day. It really lifts her spirits.”

  He got nods all the way around.

  Briggs raised his hand and asked, “Are the Patton brothers gonna confess?”

  “Ron Black—er, Paul Daniel—already has. It’s probably only a matter of time for Al Patton to break. He’s wise enough to cop a plea. A judge would be a lot harder on him if the city has to go through a lengthy trial and he’s found guilty.”

  “How did you know it was Ron Black and Al Patton that was behind it?” Remix asked.

  “It was a culmination of things, Remix,” Berenger explained. “I was really leaning toward the Messengers as being the culprits until I learned of the connection between Al and Flame’s driver, who of course was Al’s estranged brother. Tommy provided us with the story on Paul Daniel Patton’s background and how he was a hit-man for the mob and eventually found himself sharing a jail cell in Jamaica with Theodore Ramsey.”

  “Reverend Theo,” Mel said.

  “Right. Theodore Ramsey was in the Jamaican drug racket since he was a kid and could be a pretty nasty character. But while he was in prison for a number of drug charges, old Theo became religious. But he’s got a warped mind, you see, and he twisted the religion to suit his needs and his drug-soaked little brain. He formed the fundamentalist Messengers as a means to make money and control people. It’s the same kind of syndrome you see in guys like Charlie Manson. They have charisma and intelligence and can influence the weak-minded. That’s what ‘Reverend’ Theo managed to do.

  “Theo got out of prison in 1987. He had known Paul Patton for a year inside but they kept in touch. Theo knew he could use some muscle like Paul Patton. So Theo arranged for Patton to have a completely new identity when the guy was released, finally, in 1990. That’s when Paul Patton became Ron Black. With the help of Reverend Theo’s special mixture of Ecstasy and Sodium Pentathol and other tropical hallucinogens, along with Messenger mumbo jumbo, he was able to turn Paul, now Ron, into a devoted convert. And whenever Theo needed some dirty work performed, it was Ron Black that did it. Are you with me so far?”

  The group nodded. They were spellbound.

  “Okay. Back in the good ol’ USA, Flame was battling drug addiction and trying to keep Flame’s Heat together. By now it was the turn of the millennium. He was committed to a rehab center and there he met Brenda Twist. Brenda was a runaway teen from Seattle who was also an addict. She had met Reverend Theo and his wife here in New York shortly after they moved from Jamaica. By 1992 they had begun the Messengers branch over on the West Side, and Ron Black was their first employee. Brenda was in New York at the time and she somehow found herself at their services. She, too, became a convert—but she hadn’t kicked her habit. We’re still not sure how she ended up in rehab with Flame, but she did. And she and Flame fell in love. I guess. It turns out she was also having an affair with the good reverend but we’re not sure how long that’s been going on.

  “Anyway, Brenda and Flame both got out of rehab in 2000 and Brenda convinced Flame to give the Messengers a try. Reverend Theo saw a prize convert in Flame—a very rich one—and used all the powers at his command to make Flame a Messenger. Flame was in a very vulnerable emotional state at that time in his life. So suffice it to say that converting Flame turned out to be pretty easy.

  “Okay, now let’s cut to Al Patton, Flame’s manager. He was here in New York, running his business, making lots of money. But guys like him, they always want more. You see, he knew about the lost recording that Flame and John Lennon made with the help of David Bowie, Harry Nilsson, and Dave Bristol. Flame and Lennon thought the material was crap and agreed not to release it unless both of them were dead. They even signed an agreement to that effect. I confirmed this with Bowie and with Yoko Ono.

  “So Al Patton had been after Flame for years to let him release the recordings. Adrian Duncan also knew about the tapes and had once asked his father to let him remix and release them to help him make a name for himself in the music business. Flame refused. So, Al Patton started to think. The only way he could get his hands on those tapes was for Flame to die. The idea came to him when he went with Flame on a Messengers retreat to Jamaica. You see, when he got there, he ran into none other than his long lost big brother, who was going by the name Ron Black. Well, after a few nights of that special Messengers wine, old Al and Paul had something of an emotional reunion. They pledged to be brothers again but they knew they had to keep Paul’s true identity a secret. Al was well aware of his brother’s violent reputation but ultimately he was the one who arranged for ‘Ron Black’ to become Flame’s personal driver in New York.

  “Last night Black confessed that the murder plan was hatched less than a year ago. Patton, sick and tired of Flame’s recent musical direction, wanted to drop him as a client. But if Patton released Flame from his contract then Patton would never get the Flame/Lennon album. So he had to keep Flame and humor him over his music.”

  “So Patton paid Black to kill Flame and make it look like a suicide?” Mel asked.

  “Yep. Only he went a step further,” Berenger said. “He made it look like a murder that was staged to look like a suicide and in doing so framed Adrian Duncan. You see, when he was convicted in the seventies on a murder rap, Paul Patton had made some mistakes and the cops saw through the suicide staging. So this time, Paul—Ron Black—planted evidence to make it look like it was Adrian who had murdered Flame and staged the suicide. For example, Black retrieved Adrian’s after-show pass the night of Flame’s last concert at the Beacon Theater. Adrian had ripped it off and tossed it on the floor, backstage. Black found it and kept it, then later stuffed the pass in Flame’s hand after he’d killed him.”

  “Wow. Was Reverend Theo in on it?” Bishop asked.

  “Nope. The Messengers knew nothing about it. Brenda, Reverend Theo… none of them was involved. Just Black. This was between Black, Al Patton… and Joshua Duncan.”

  “Joshua Duncan!” Bishop cried. “Why was he in on it? He’s Flame’s son!”

  “Patton had apparently enticed Joshua with co-production credit on the Flame/Lennon album, as well as a percentage of the royalties. You see, Joshua, like his half-brother Adrian, really wanted a career in the music business. His father had squelched his dreams, just as Flame had done with Adrian. This was Joshua’s big chance. And I’m sorry to s
ay that Joshua was an accomplice in his father’s murder. You see, Joshua could do a perfect impression of Flame. Carol told me that, but it didn’t click with me at the time she said it. It was Joshua who got Adrian to come to Flame’s townhouse that night after the concert by phoning Adrian and impersonating Flame’s voice! Over the phone Joshua convinced a drunk Adrian that he was Flame and that he wanted to talk to him. So Adrian went down there and walked into the trap.”

  “So that’s why Joshua is facing some charges,” Remix said.

  “Yep. But after Flame’s murder, Patton blew it. He couldn’t wait for Joshua to become president of Flame Productions. He got greedy. He wanted that album now. So he arranged a meeting with Carol Merryman the day of Flame’s memorial service. He told her he wanted those tapes and that she was going to release the album to him. Carol refused.”

  “So she had to die,” Remix said.

  “Right. Patton paid his brother to throw her off the roof. And with that one, Black tried a different MO. He apparently offered her a ride home from Al Patton’s party the night of Flame’s memorial service. No one saw them get into the limo. He drove her home and accompanied her inside. He must have overpowered her and taken her to the roof. He made it look like her death was a suicide, too.”

  “And did Joshua know about that?” Bishop asked.

  “According to Joshua, no. That murder was a surprise to him. That’s when he realized he had made a deal with a couple of devils. Joshua spilled the beans in the hospital last night.”

  “So what about Suzanne?” Mel asked. “Why her?”

  “Because Black knew she was on to him. He had recognized her. He knew she was following the limo that day and couldn’t take a chance on her exposing him and his brother. And it turned out that after she was dealt with, Joshua was next on his list.”

  Briggs nodded at Berenger. “And what about you? The business with the Jimmys wanting to kill you…?”

  “That was Ron Black and Al Patton. It wasn’t the Jimmys at all. They wanted me to think the Jimmys were after me, but Black and Patton wanted me out of the way. They didn’t want me snooping into the case for fear that I’d discover that Adrian was really innocent. It was Black disguised as a Jimmy those nights when I was shot at.”

  “So, Spike, what about the Messengers?” Remix asked. “All this time we thought they were the primary suspects. Do they get off scot free?”

  “Yes and no,” Berenger said. “It’s true they had nothing to do with the murders. But as you know, it’s come out that they’re involved in a huge fraud. The drugs, the brainwashing of congregates, the taking of their money… Reverend Theo is gonna face some serious charges. You can be sure the Messengers will cease to exist as an organization. Theo, and maybe others in his little sect, will certainly do some time. But not for murder.”

  Bishop shook his head. “This is unreal. Only in the crazy music business, huh, Spike?”

  Berenger nodded and said, “You should have heard what Billy McTiernan had to say about it.”

  “Yeah? What did he say?”

  In his best impression of McTiernan, Berenger bloated, “You mean to tell me that all this was because of a goddamned fucking hippie-shit rock ‘n’ roll record?”

  For the first time in days, the employees of Rockin’ Security had a good laugh.

  33

  A Hard Day’s Night

  (performed by The Beatles)

  “I love banana splits. They were always my favorite,” Ann Berkowitz said.

  At first she hadn’t been able to remember what they were called. “That ice cream dish with the banana,” she had said.

  “You mean a banana split, mom?” Carl Berenger asked, winking at his brother.

  “Is that what it is?” she asked. “I just can’t remember things like I used to.”

  “I think we can arrange a banana split, mom,” Spike said. “Carl, what do you think?”

  The three of them were in her room in the Neighborhood at Franklin Village. She had been brought home from the hospital the night before and was now comfortably tucked into bed at 7:30 in the evening. But she had insisted on a bedtime snack and demanded to have a banana split. Carl, who had been in New York since his mother’s stroke had occurred, stood and told Berenger that he’d go to the kitchen and see what they could whip up. Requests of that kind were not unusual at Franklin Village. As long as the kitchen was still open, they could normally handle just about anything.

  Berenger watched his brother leave the room and admired how well Carl looked. His brother had avoided gaining the extra weight that Berenger had put on. He didn’t know how Carl did it. Carl seemed to eat a hell of a lot more and claimed that he never exercised. Berenger, on the other hand, worked out constantly and tried to watch what he ate, but he still retained that annoying excessive twenty-five pounds. Carl seemed to lead a charmed life. He had a happy marriage and three terrific kids. As an entertainment lawyer, Carl Berenger was successful and managed to enjoy the benefits his work had brought him. Berenger considered the guy very lucky.

  “So, mom, is it good to be back in your room instead of that smelly old hospital?” Berenger asked her.

  “The hospital? I wasn’t at the hospital,” she said. “You’re trying to fool me.”

  Berenger smiled. “If you say so, mom.”

  His cell phone rang, so he retrieved it from his belt clip and checked to see who was calling. The ID told him it was Gina.

  “Excuse me, mom, I need to take this.” He walked out of her room and into the hallway to answer the call. “Gina?”

  “Hey, handsome.”

  “What’s shakin’, sugar?”

  “I’m calling to say goodbye.”

  Berenger sighed. He knew that was coming. They had spent a glorious last night together at her hotel and taken full advantage of each other’s bodies while they still could. Both of them admitted using the other person to perform selfish acts of hedonism but also acknowledged that if they couldn’t be done with a good friend then they shouldn’t be done at all.

  “What time is your flight?” he asked.

  “I have to be at LaGuardia in thirty minutes. The cab will be here in a minute.”

  “Well. I guess it sounds silly to say ‘I hope to see you again soon.’”

  “No, it doesn’t. I hope to see you again soon, Spike.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I told you this last night, but I’ll say it again. You made my time in New York a lot more interesting than it would have been if you hadn’t been around.”

  “Aw, you say that to all your flings,” he countered.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  There was a slight pause. “And how’s Adrian doing?” he asked.

  “I guess all right. He’s been a hermit since his release. I can’t blame him. He’s also in shock, I think.”

  Berenger understood why, too. Joshua Duncan, in a moment of extreme guilt and self-pity, signed away all his rights in Flame Productions to his half-brother. As part of his plea bargain with the DA, Joshua would serve six months in prison in exchange for testimony that would nail Al Patton and Ron Black. Joshua figured he had no business running his father’s estate and that Adrian was more suited. His half-brother was, he felt, more entitled.

  “Well, he’s got his work cut out for him, too,” Berenger said. “It won’t be easy handling Flame’s affairs.”

  “Tell me about it. I just hope he can hire some good legal advisers. He told me today that he’s going to hire Joshua when Joshua gets out of jail.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Berenger said. “I doubt Josh will serve the full six months. I’ll bet he’s out in three or four.”

  “Mmm. And he says he’s giving up dealing drugs. I hope that’s true.”

  “Me too.”

  There was another awkward silence. Finally, Gina said, “Well, hell, I guess I have to go.”

  “Gina.”

  “What?”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “
We probably won’t see each other again for a while, will we?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Gina. It’s hard to say.”

  “Yeah. I know. You take care, too, Spike.”

  “Bye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  After she hung up, Berenger felt a slight pang in his chest. He knew, though, that it would be gone in an hour. Gina was a great woman but she wasn’t what he needed or wanted for any kind of serious entanglement.

  She probably felt the same way about him.

  Berenger went back into Ann Berkowitz’s room and found Carl had returned with the patient’s requested delicacy. Their mother was greedily slurping on a spoon that contained samples of the oversized banana, the ice cream, and the three toppings the kitchen staff had put on it.

  “That’s a really big banana,” Berenger commented.

  “It’s huge,” Carl agreed. He winked at Berenger again, which is a habit he had developed when they were kids in Texas.

  “So what time is your flight?” Berenger asked.

  Carl looked at his watch and said, “Too soon. I have to go, kiddies. Sorry, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” He leaned over to his mother and gave her a hug and kiss. “You take care of yourself, mom. I’ll be back out to see you in a couple of months, okay?”

  She kissed him back but immediately continued to work on her dessert.

  Berenger gave his brother a big bear hug and said, “Give one of those to Sarah and the kids, okay?”

  “You bet,” Carl said. “You’re doing a great job with her, Spike.” They looked at their mother, who was enjoying the treat so much that she was oblivious to what they were saying. “I’ll send you that check we talked about.”

  “Thanks, bro’.”

  They slapped each other on the back and Carl finally left the room. Berenger sat in the chair closest to his mother’s bed and watched her eat. He suddenly felt that it was too quiet in the room, so he reached over to her dresser and turned on the radio. The station was playing a Beatles song.