Death by Didgeridoo (Jamie Quinn Mystery Book 1)

by Barbara Venkataraman

  I arrived early and waited for Marian to rumble in on a Harley, but she drove up in a new VW, her tattoos discreetly hidden by long sleeves. She was wearing a lot of make-up and her hair was swept back into a high ponytail. She looked like the sophisticated sister of the girl on the website. I wasn't sure which one was the real Marian.

  I introduced myself and we ordered coffee. She took hers black, no frou-frou Frappuccino for her.

  "How's Adam doing?" she asked. "He's a good kid. Everyone at the Screaming Zombie liked him." She was tapping her long nails on the table, antsy, like she couldn't wait to get this over with.

  "Adam's not doing well, I'm sorry to say. Finding Spike's body was quite a shock for him. He's having nightmares and he's not eating…"

  She looked sympathetic. "Well, it's no wonder. Adam and Spike were such good buddies. Between the music and the dogs, those two had a lot in common. Adam even got along with Beast, who is not the friendliest dog, believe me." She pronounced 'dog' as 'dawg'.

  "Marian, I promise to make this fast, but can you answer a few questions for me?"

  "I'll try," she answered without much enthusiasm.

  I pulled out Susan Doyle's list of questions. "Did Spike have any enemies?"

  She laughed hollowly. "Sure, he had a lot of enemies--he was kind of an asshole--but nobody who would've killed him."

  "Did he owe anyone money or did anyone owe him any money?"

  "Nobody owed him any money, but the Screaming Zombies thought he owed them money. They didn't like that he used the name of the band for his store. They were suing him, but they couldn't have killed him. "

  "Why not?" I asked, wondering how she could be so sure.

  "Because they didn't have the guts! I know those guys for a long time; me and Spike go way back, and I'm telling you they are too chickenshit for that."

  "Could it have been a robbery gone wrong?" I asked, sticking to Susan's script.

  "Nah. There was nothin' missing. I'm the bookkeeper, so I would know." She finished off her coffee.

  I knew she was ready to bolt, so I gave up on the questions and asked her point-blank, "Who do you think killed Spike? Best guess."

  "I'll tell you who did it--I think it was Steve Michaels. He and Rosa were always fighting like crazy, yelling and screaming, and she just filed for divorce. He was super jealous."

  "What's that got to do with Spike?"

  "He was sleepin' with her."

  Chapter 17

  "How long had Spike and Rosa been sleeping together?" I asked.

  A look of disgust crossed her face so quickly, I almost missed it. "Who knows? Who cares?" she said, flippantly.

  It looked to me like maybe she cared. "Did Spike have any other girlfriends, or ex-girlfriends?"

  "He was a rock star, what do you think? There were always groupies and skanks hanging around him."

  She put her purse on her shoulder and pushed her chair back to stand up. I felt like I did when I was in court and the judge said, "Wrap it up, counselor, we're out of time."

  "What about you?" I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. "What about me?"

  "Well, were you and Spike ever together, as a couple?"

  She shook her head and her ponytail swung back and forth. "We used to hook up, but that was a long time ago. Ancient history. Anyway, I gotta go. Good luck with Adam, give him my best." And she was gone.

  I finished my coffee and soaked up some sun, while I thought about our conversation. Marian seemed convinced that Steve was the murderer, but how reliable was she? Did she have her own ax to grind? My reverie was interrupted by a beep announcing I had a text. I looked at my phone and read, "For a good time, call Duke." Then a second text, "Satisfaction guaranteed!" I figured I'd better call him before his texting turned into sexting.

  "What took you so long, Darlin'?"

  "Hey Duke! Sorry, I know thirty seconds is a long time to wait. What'd you find out?"

  "You go first."

  I propped my feet up on the chair across from me and got comfortable. "Marian Wolinsky is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a New Yorker. Not sure if she has her own agenda, but she says Steve Michaels is the guy, that he was jealous because Spike and Rosa were sleeping together."

  Duke gave a low whistle of surprise. "That just confirms the PI's motto--'Everybody lies'."

  I sat up in my chair. "That's the lawyer's motto, too, and they don't teach it in law school. Who's lying?"

  "I think it's your girl, 'cause I believe mine. Rosa says she and Spike never did the dirty deed. He took her to a hotel to get her away from Steve, who was acting all crazy and threatening to kill her. She was scared, and people don't lie about being scared."

  "Does she think Steve killed Spike?"

  "That's the funny part, she doesn't think so. She said he never threatened anyone else. He was jealous as hell, but he always took it out on her."

  "But why would Marian lie? Maybe she really believed they were sleeping together. I mean, if she saw them go to a hotel, of course she'd think that. So, what should we do next?"

  "You leave it to me, Darlin'. I'll figure out where Steve was at the time of the murder. And I'm not ruling out the Zombie guy, Daryl, I'll check him out, too."

  "Thanks, Duke! I still think Adam knows something. I'm going to watch his hypnotherapy session tomorrow morning. Why don't we touch base after that?"

  "Darlin', you can touch anything you want. I wouldn't mind a bit."

  Chapter 18

  I'd just gotten home and was about to feed the cat that didn't even pretend to like me when Grace called.

  "Wow! You must be psychic. I was about to call you…" I said

  "Jamie," Grace said, "You're not going to believe this. I just spoke with Susan Doyle--she said Rosa Michaels was run over and killed this afternoon! Witnesses say the driver was gunning for her. Her husband Steve's been arrested and they want to pin Spike's murder on him, too. Their theory is love triangle gone bad. So, Adam's off the hook for now, maybe for good."

  "I don't even know what to say…" I sat down in my armchair, trying to absorb this bombshell.

  "Aren't you happy? This is great news."

  "Not for Rosa Michaels," I pointed out.

  "I know, I know. The poor girl…she married a killer. It happens way too often. Are you going to call your aunt and tell her the news?"

  My head was spinning. "Yeah, I will. She'll be relieved. She didn't know Adam was about to be charged, but I'm sure she was worried about it. Her main concern is still Adam--he's a mess."

  "Maybe if he knows they arrested Steve, he'll feel better?" Grace suggested.

  "I don't know; I'll leave that up to Dr. Simon. I've already tried playing detective; I'm not ready to dabble in psychotherapy!"

  "How about retail therapy?" Grace laughed.

  "That, I can handle." I said. We made a date to get together for shopping and dinner the following weekend and hung up.

  I felt conflicted. I was relieved Adam wasn't going to be arrested, but it still felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing. I decided not to tell Duke right away--let him finish checking out Steve's whereabouts for the time of the murder. And Adam was still suffering. I wasn't sure that Steve's arrest would make a difference to him. I knew I’d be counting the hours until his hypnotherapy the next morning. I settled in for a long night.

  Chapter 19

  It took two espressos to pry my eyes open in the morning. Although I must've gotten some sleep in between watching re-runs of "Friends" and "30 Rock," it sure didn't feel like it. I was nervous, but I wasn't sure why. I could've used some comic relief right about then. Where's Duke when you need him?

  At 10:00, I called Dr. Simon over Skype and we confirmed that we could see and hear each other. Then he temporarily draped a towel over the screen, so Adam wouldn't see me when he came in. He removed it after Adam was lying comfortably on the sofa.

  Contrary to popular belief, no shiny object is required for hypnosis. It was simply a deep
relaxation exercise with Dr. Simon making suggestions in a voice as soft as cotton. Adam looked like he was asleep, but he was still able to respond to questions. First, Dr. Simon asked him to rate his anxiety on a scale of 1-5 with a specific description for each number. Then, he told Adam to picture himself riding an elevator in a building with five floors and he was the only one who could push the buttons. If he started feeling anxious, all he had to do was ride the elevator to a lower floor.

  "Do you like elevators, Adam?" Dr. Simon asked.

  "Yes…"

  "Don't forget to push the buttons when you need to, Adam. You are in a safe place. Nothing can hurt you here. Do you feel safe now?"

  "I feel safe."

  Then Dr. Simon asked him some neutral questions about his dogs before asking the next question.

  "Do you know a dog named Beast?"

  "Spike's dog. Like drummer…Led Zeppelin."

  "Do you like Beast?"

  "Beast is a good dog. He likes to play."

  "When is the last time you saw Beast, Adam?"

  Adam started flailing. "I hear him barking…he's upset. Why is he barking? Where is Spike? I can't go in there! No no!"

  Dr. Simon backed off. "It's okay, Adam. You don't have to go in there. Don't forget about your elevator buttons. Take a deep breath and let it go. Push the number one button and ride the elevator down. Do you feel better?"

  "Yes..."

  "Now, Adam, you don't have to go in the room where Beast is, but I need to ask you about that day, okay?"

  No answer.

  "Adam, you said you did a bad thing. What was the bad thing?"

  Tears started rolling down Adam's face.

  "Adam, listen to me. I know you think you did a bad thing, but you didn't. Maybe you made a mistake, but you did not do anything wrong. Okay?"

  No answer.

  "Adam, please repeat after me. I didn't do anything wrong."

  Adam started shaking his head from side to side.

  "Adam, listen to me." Dr. Simon said gently. "You didn't do anything wrong. I am sure of it. Now, can you repeat after me?"

  "Okay."

  "Can you say this for me? I didn't do anything wrong."

  In a voice so low I almost couldn't hear him, Adam said "I didn't do anything wrong."

  "Good! Now what was the bad thing?"

  "I didn't mean to do it! I'm sorry, Spike. It's my fault, all my fault!"

  "Adam, listen to me. Let's pretend you're a fly. Can you do that?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you feel your pretend wings?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Okay, now you're a fly and you're watching Adam do the thing he thinks is bad. Tell me about it. You're a fly that can speak…just pretend."

  "Adam is playing music with Spike. They're laughing. Adam asks "What's your favorite song Spike? Spike is smiling. He says ‘Rosalinda's Eyes’…it reminds him of Rosa..."

  "Who is Rosa?" Dr. Simon asks.

  "She's a teacher. She's pretty."

  "Then what happened? Remember, you're still pretending you're a fly."

  "Adam asks Spike if he loves Rosa. Spike says yes. But it's a secret…don't tell."

  "Then what happened?"

  "Adam broke his promise! Why did you do that, Adam? You're bad!"

  "How did Adam break his promise?" Dr. Simon prodded.

  "He told! He promised, but he told anyway…"

  "Who did Adam tell?"

  No answer.

  "I'm talking to our pretend fly now, Mr. Fly, who did Adam tell?

  "So angry! Broken pictures, sharp! My finger hurts…I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

  "Who is angry?"

  "I can't tell you."

  "Adam, did you tell Steve the secret?"

  "No."

  "Who did you tell?"

  Adam started pulling his hair. "She was so mad!"

  "Take a deep breath. Push the button and ride the elevator down. Can you do that?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you feel better, Adam?" Dr. Simon was speaking softly.

  "Better…"

  "Let's play a guessing game, okay? Was it Rosa, did you tell Rosa?"

  "No…Rosa is nice."

  "It's okay if the fly tells me who was mad."

  Adam started shaking and crying. "Spike is dead! Spike was my best friend…"

  "Adam, did you hurt Spike?"

  "NO!"

  "Then it's not your fault. Do you hear me? It is not your fault. Repeat after me: it is not my fault."

  "It's…it's….not…m-m-my fault…"

  "Now tell me, Adam, who was mad?"

  "It was…Marian!"

  Chapter 20

  Marian must've killed Spike! Just yesterday, I'd been chatting with her and drinking coffee. I felt a chill go down my spine. Now, what do I do?

  I watched Dr. Simon coax Adam out of his hypnotic state. I was worried that Adam would be feeling worse after all he'd been through, but, to my surprise, he looked better. Not carefree, more like a weight had been lifted off of him. He even gave Dr. Simon a half-smile. Although he was much taller now, Adam still looked like that sleepy little boy I used to babysit, reading animal stories under the covers before he drifted off.

  You'd think I'd know what to do next, considering all of the mysteries I've read and all the TV shows I've watched, but I was clueless. I knew one thing for sure, I had to tell Grace! I hated doing it by text, but she was at work and I couldn't wait. Patience is not my forte.

  Hey G, things just got interesting! Adam had a breakthrough under hypnosis & told us the "bad" thing he did, the one that got Spike killed…

  OMG!! Why would you lv me hanging like that? Why so mean?

  LOL!! He revealed a secret that Spike asked him not to tell, the secret was…

  I'm going to kill you!!!!

  The secret was that Spike was in love with Rosa! Adam spilled the beans and told someone who got very, very angry….

  You will pay for this torture. I promise you.

  Drum roll please….it was Marian!!!

  No- way!!!

  Yes! And now I can add "coffee klatch with a murderer" to my resume. Maybe I can get a job with the prison system…

  Wow! But how do you know for sure it was her?

  I don't, but my gut tells me it’s her. And Adam believes it.

  You have to go to the state attorney with this.

  But I hate that guy! Don't make me talk to him!

  Jamie….

  Sigh. Okay, but you just ruined my day.

  Now we're even. Lol! Good luck!

  It only took me a minute to realize I couldn't go to Nick the state attorney and accuse Marian of killing Spike in a jealous rage--not because he was my arch-enemy, playing Magneto to my Professor Xavier--but because he'd never believe me. I mean, what proof did I have? Because my hypnotized, traumatized, autistic cousin said so? That would go over well. What I needed was proof. I needed Duke, damn it!

  Where was he, anyway? It was weird that I hadn't heard from him, not even a lewd text. I called him, but it went to voice mail. I texted him and got no response. I made myself a piece of toast and then called the only place I could think of.

  "It's always Mardi Gras at The Big Easy, this is Brendan, how may I help you?

  "Hi Brendan, I'm looking for Duke Broussard, have you seen him?"

  "Um, well…Duke?" I could hear Duke in the background saying "I'm not here."

  "Brendan?"

  "Yes ma'am. I'm sorry but--"

  "Brendan, this is Mr. Broussard's attorney and I must speak with him immediately. Please put him on the phone."

  "Yes ma'am, okay--alright, here he is."

  I heard the phone changing hands and then Duke said hello, but he didn't sound right, not at all.

  "Duke? What's the matter? Are you sick, do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

  "Don't need no hospital." He was slurring, like he'd been drinking heavily. Something was way off. Alcohol makes some people depressed, but not Duke.
He was usually the happiest drunk on the planet.

  "You stay there, Duke! I'll see you in five minutes." I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, jumped in my car and raced over to The Big Easy. I used to lead such a quiet life, what the hell happened? It seemed like there was a new crisis every day. Maybe I should get a siren for the roof of my car, and paint the door panel to say: "Hang on, I'm on my way!"

  Oh, Duke! You were supposed to save me, not the other way around…

  Chapter 21

  When I got to The Big Easy, I saw a swarm of barflies flitting around the outside bar, mostly tourists, but no Duke. I marched inside, on a mission to rescue Duke from his demons, himself, or whatever. It was dark in there after the glare outside and I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. Then I saw him, hunched over the bar, where it looked like he'd been all night. Unshaven, he was wearing rumpled clothes and an air of despair

  I touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Duke, you okay? Did something happen?"

  He shook his head, too miserable to talk.

  I sat down next to him. "Is there something I can do for you?" Not one lascivious suggestion came out of his mouth--and I'd given him the perfect set-up. Something was seriously wrong. I just sat with him for a while, neither of us saying anything. Brendan, the bartender, brought me a glass of water. After about fifteen minutes, Duke looked at me with tears in his eyes.

  "I could've saved her, Jamie. That sweet girl told me she was scared, she said he'd try to kill her…but I said, 'Don't worry, you'll be okay.' And now she's dead, Rosa's dead! That jealous bastard killed her. Just like he killed Spike." Duke laid his head on the bar in defeat.

  "Duke! It's not your fault," I said, patting him gently on the back. "And Steve didn't kill Spike."

  Duke looked at me like I was crazy. "What the hell are you saying, Jamie?"