Double Black Diamond (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (38 page)

“It couldn’t have been any of the other band members? Bodyguards feel pretty strongly about Wade.”
 

“Alibis were solid. Wade was in New York. He could’ve sent someone, but they looked at him hard and didn’t think so. I think Cliff made the arrangement before Mickey and Nina got there. I read their statements. Sounded like a last hurrah to me. Lots of shooting the shit. Talking about old times. They said he was happy and at peace.”
 

“Because he’d decided to die?” I asked.
 

“The detectives and psychologist they brought in thought so. They kept it quiet out of respect for the family. Couldn’t prove it one way or another.”
 

“Why in the world do the bodyguards suspect Wade?” I asked.
 

“I looked into that. At the time, Mickey wanted the band to stay together, but Cliff didn’t. He thought his brother was the real talent and should go it alone. Mickey was going with his brother, ready to try it solo. Rumors were that Wade killed Cliff to keep the band together. He ain’t nothing without Mickey.”

“Didn’t work,” I said.
 

“Nope. Mickey spiraled into a deep depression. He was hospitalized six times, but they kept it out of the press by calling it exhaustion.” Uncle Morty sat up and sucked in a deep, raspy breath.

I grabbed his hand as he turned a scary shade of pinkish purple. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt? Your right arm?”
 

“She’s here,” he whispered.

“Who?”
 

He stared past my head, completely transfixed. I turned and saw outside the Belgian Bean’s glass wall, Nina Symoan. Nobody has ever made a sling look that good. Nina was in full Marilyn mode with a pair of cat’s eye sunglasses and a vintage Pucci scarf in orange and pink. Bobby the bodyguard was with her and opened the door. I guess my text to Mickey had done the trick.
 

Nina sashayed in and Uncle Morty made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
 

“Oh my god,” I said. “You’re a fanboy.”
 

“No,” he squeaked out.
 

“Look at you. You’re about to keel over because she just walked in. That’s so gross.”

“Gross?” Uncle Morty asked, not looking at me.
 

“She looks like me and Mom. You are one sick puppy.”
 

“You look like her. Not the other way around. Nina was on the first album cover in 1978. I didn’t even know your parents then. Besides, Nina’s an artist and we’re in the same room. Finally.
 

I gasped. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
 

Uncle Morty glanced at me all glassy-eyed.
 

“You knew she’d be here. We didn’t accidentally go skiing on the same weekend DBD was at Copper. You arranged it with Pete, so we’d all be here and you wouldn’t look like a sicko stalker. You are so busted.”
 

“Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’s coming.”
 

I twisted in my seat and smiled at Nina threading her way between tables amidst clicking cameras. “You are never going to live this down,” I hissed over my shoulder.
 

“Mercy,” said Nina, pointing to her arm. “So sorry I’m late. Everything takes longer these days.”
 

“How’re you feeling?” I asked.
 

“Good. May I sit down?”
 

I pulled an empty chair over and Nina Symoan sat between me and Uncle Morty. Or should I say me and some weird statue with a frozen smile that resembled Morty.
 

“Nina, have you met my uncle?” I asked.
 

“I don’t believe so.” She extended a delicate hand with cherry red fingernails to Uncle Morty, who stared at it like it was a boil about to burst. “Nina Symoan.”
 

“Mrtverhf,” said Uncle Morty through unmoving lips.
 

Oh dear lord. He’s lost it.
 

Nina took off her sunglasses and looked at me.
 

“Morton Van Der Hoof,” I said. “He’s pleased to meet you.”
 

“I’m pleased to meet him,” she said, glancing at the beads of sweat rolling down Uncle Morty’s hairy temples. No dignity. I never thought I’d see it.
 

“Um, what did you want to see me about?” I asked.
 

Nina asked for a brown manila envelope that Bobby had under his beefy arm. He gave it to her and winked at me, glad to be back where he belonged with Nina.
 

“I have your contract,” she said, pulling out a sheaf of papers.
 

Ah crap. It’s huge.
 

“Wow,” I said. “How many pages is it?”
 

“Thirty-six. We’ve found it’s best to be very clear about what’s expected,” said Nina.

“You can’t sign that,” said Uncle Morty, still sweating like he was in a sauna, but clear-eyed.
 

“Why can’t she?” Nina batted her eyes and he wavered, almost falling off his chair.
 

“Big Steve has to read it. She can’t sign nothin’, I mean anything, until he’s approved it.”
 

Oh thank goodness.

“Big Steve is our family lawyer. He goes over all contracts. Do you mind if I scan it for him to review?” I asked.
 

“Not at all. I think you’ll find it’s very generous.” Nina leaned over to pet Wallace, exposing her décolletage, and Uncle Morty went glassy again.
 

“I’m sure I will. Would you like some…” I was going to say waffles, but at that moment Aaron trotted out with three plates balanced in his arms. He gave two to the parents and put the third in front of Nina. She watched him disappear back into the kitchen and then said, “Did you order these for me?”

“With Aaron you never order. Food just kind of happens,” I said.
 

“He cooks,” said Uncle Morty and it came out much louder than he meant it to. We were all three startled.
 

“I see that,” said Nina, giving me a sideways glance. I wanted to slap my forehead. Get it together, man. This is your one shot to talk to this sexpot and you’re acting like a goon.
 

“It was a long night,” I said. “We’re…tired.”

“Oh my goodness. I heard about the hot tub. Did they catch them yet? How bizarre.”
 

“Bizarre is right. Can I ask you a few questions?” I gave her the photo of the not-bodyguards and pointed to them. “Do you know these guys?”
 

“They look somewhat familiar, but no. Why do you ask?” asked Nina.
 

“They’re following Darren. We think they’re blackmailing him.” I sat back and watched her reaction, which wasn’t what I expected at all.

“Oh,” she said and bit her plump lower lip. Uncle Morty gasped a little, but she didn’t seem to notice.
 

“I take it that’s not a surprise,” I said.
 

She shook her head and the scarf came loose, floating down off her platinum blond hair in a cloud of silk. “I can’t say unless you’re one of us.”
 

I looked at the contract stack. “Do you have a confidentiality agreement in there? I’ll sign that.”
 

Nina pulled it out, while eyeing Uncle Morty who continued to stare at her like a serious weirdo. None of my stalkers were that bad. They were just medium bad. He was extra large. Go big or go home, I guess.
 

“Look, my uncle’s having a moment right now, but he’s my dad’s right-hand man. He’s spent the last eight hours or so researching the heck out of DBD in an attempt to help find Mickey’s oil. He’s totally reliable. We’ll both sign. It’ll hold up in court, but you’ll never need to test the theory.”
 

Nina smiled and held up her hand. Bobby put a pen in her palm and we signed. I’d never be able to reveal the inner workings of Double Black Diamond, not even to Dad. It would drive him freaking crazy.
 

“Who’s blackmailing Darren?” I asked.
 

“I don’t know their names, but they mean business. Darren’s desperate for the deal to go through. He wouldn’t take Mickey’s oil. He can’t write or perform without it. The anxiety’s that bad. Darren might seem like an ass, but he wouldn’t hurt Mickey.”
 

“As opposed to Wade.”
 

“I don’t think Wade would really tell the press about Mickey’s mental problems. It would sever their relationship forever. No more DBD and no more hope of it.” Nina cut into Aaron’s waffle and moaned. “Delicious.”
 

Uncle Morty’s sweat started sweating. The collar of his shirt was soaking wet and the other patrons were looking at him like they expected him to pass out. Frankly, so was I.
 

“What are they blackmailing him with? Darren’s past is fairly checkered and public. What else is there?” I took a sip of my latte to give myself a second. I wasn’t thrilled about having to bring up Nina’s dead brother-in-law. It seemed cruel somehow. “Could it be something to do with Cliff?”
 

Nina accepted a black coffee from Stephen and sipped slowly. Probably stalling as well. “You mean, did Darren have anything to do with his death?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“No. Darren’s innocent on that account. He wanted Cliff sober as much as the rest of us. Cliff and Mickey were so close, like twins really. They didn’t have the easiest childhood. Nobody else could understand what it was like for them, but they had each other. Mickey needed him. You know what happened after, right?” She looked at Uncle Morty and he managed to nod. “They broke up. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why Cliff did it, but that’s crazy.”

“So what is it then?” I asked.
 

“Darren’s gay. They’re threatening to out him to the world,” said Nina, who got a little choked up when she said it. “The bastards.”
 

Uncle Morty looked shocked. I know I was. Darren Echols gay. He’d built a career on partying and womanizing like Wade and Mickey. I didn’t know how he pulled it off.
 

“And no one ever found out?” I asked.
 

“People knew of course,” she said. “But DBD was the money train. Nobody wanted to derail that.”

“So the rest of the band wanted it kept secret? He had to hide?”
 

“
He
wanted to hide. It was the eighties. Back then Darren would’ve been treated like, I don’t know, Boy George. It would’ve killed his career.”
 

“I thought he wasn’t that into the career.”
 

“He was into the money. I really don’t think this has anything to do with Mickey’s oil. What else do you want to know?” asked Nina.
 

Aaron trotted out with a fresh latte for me and refilled Nina’s coffee. Then he just stood there like he does, awaiting a compliment.
 

“She loves the waffles,” I said.
 

Nina nodded so that a platinum blond lock fell forward into her face. “They’re terrific. Can I have the recipe?”

Aaron ran back in the kitchen, sloshing coffee on the floor from his pot. Wallace scampered over, her tiny claws clicking on the floor, and began lapping up the spilled coffee. I jumped up and grabbed her. “That’s just what we need,” I said. “You on caffeine.”
 

Bark.
 

I kept Wallace on my lap, but it wasn’t easy. She kept wiggling and trying to get to the remains of my waffle. She was such a pain, I would’ve given it to her if it weren’t for the barfing. I was hoping Uncle Morty would take over the questioning, since I had a crazed pug to deal with, but he was still staring at Nina. I’d only seen him look at pot roast that way and it was worrying.
 

“Well, someone wants DBD to stay broken up. Any ideas of who that might be?” I asked.
 

Bark.
 

“I’m not asking you,” I said.
 

Bark.

“Nina, what’ve you got?”
 

“Pretty much everyone wants this to happen from the record label on down. Mickey’s got a stack of songs ready to go. They’re good, real good, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his wife.”
 

“What about stalkers? Legal issues? Is anyone suing you?”
 

Nina laughed while chewing and almost choked. “We call them groupies, not stalkers. There’s always a few, but they’re harmless. No legal issues since the guys went into recovery. They used to get sued on a regular basis, but we haven’t had one in a few years. Mickey gets threats and love letters all the time, but that’s how this business is.”
 

“What kind of threats?” I asked.

“Victor’s assistant, Ginger, takes care of the fan mail. We never see it. She passes anything she thinks is serious onto the police. It’s been a couple of years since we’ve had a real problem and that guy was sent to a mental hospital. He’s still there. Our lawyer keeps track, just in case.”
 

“Lawsuits,” Uncle Morty whispered, still bright red.
 

“Yeah,” I said. “Why were you being sued so much?”
 

“Mostly nuisance lawsuits from concert venues. Usually settled or dropped before it got too far,” said Nina.
 

“But some weren’t. Who were they?” I asked.
 

She glanced between Uncle Morty and me and then leaned forward. “Paternity suits. We’d get twenty a year in their heyday. Most without any foundation.”
 

I hated to ask, since it was Nina’s husband we were talking about. “But some weren’t?”
 

“With Wade and Jimmy there was plenty of foundation, but not with Darren obviously. Once Mickey and I got together he stopped all that craziness. Publicly, he kept up a show, but he was never disloyal to me. Cliff never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of months, and he was really worried about getting AIDS, so he was obsessive about using condoms. You wouldn’t believe the lengths women would go to, mailing us baby pictures, putting Mickey’s name on children’s birth certificates. It was sad really.”