Rock & Roll Homicide (15 page)

“Would you have preferred I call out ‘Anybody home,’ and leave it at that?” I asked with my disappointment apparent.

“I’m sorry, Jason. That was spectacular,” she said enthusiastically, and I brightened. “I just hope you had the safety on.”

“Next time you’re in a damsel in distress situation I’m referring you to Delbert Henson,” I said, and she laughed.

Over the next half-hour we packed clothes for a couple of days, put my guitar and accessories in Dad’s car and had just enough time for that brief moment of passion Kelly knew I was seeking. Afterwards she said, “Sex and rock & roll. Whoever sang, ‘Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,’ sure knew what he was talking about.”

I replied, “It was Meatloaf and if you sit next to either Ian Davis or Jack Pascal this afternoon you’ll probably catch a contact high that will take you to three out of three.”

“If that roadie you and Glenda talked about is there, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I’ll be sitting near,” she said.

“They call him GI Jo-Jo and his girlfriend, Delitah, will probably drop by if the strip club she works at gives her the day off,” I said.

“Are you suggesting I do the
girl talk
thing with her?” Kelly asked.

“I don’t want you getting into any dangerous situations. But if GI Jo-Jo is working the mixing board while we’re practicing, and Delitah’s sitting by herself, I don’t see any harm in a little friendly chat,” I said.

“What do you want me to find out?” she asked.

“GI Jo-Jo had been pretty uncooperative, so I had to tell him more than I’d like to. My big concern is that he’ll disappear. I think if he made that decision he’d try to get Delitah to go with him. If you could get her talking about the future of the band now that Terry’s gone she might open up about their plans,” I said.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kelly said doubtfully.

“All you need is a good opening line. Why don’t you tell her you’re dating the new singer and start complaining about musicians? See if you can get the conversation to come around to her current boyfriend,” I said.

“Complain about you? I could do that. How long is this practice session supposed to last?” she said with a mirthful grin.

As arranged, at 2:15 PM I called Bernie from the stage door entrance of the Dali Lama, and two minutes later we were in. After exchanging pleasantries Bernie asked, “Who’s going to operate the karaoke machine?”

“I think Derek can handle it,” I said.

“I have a million things to do before the show. Will he be here soon? I’m anxious to show him how to work the software,” Bernie said.

“I’m not expecting him until 7:00 PM. Is that going to be a problem?” I asked.

“I guess not, as long as he knows the songs he should be OK,” Bernie said.

“He hasn’t heard the songs yet,” I said.

“Then he’s going to have a problem. Most karaoke songs are on CDG’s which will automatically pause for instrumentals and changes in tempo. This home-made version that I put together is nowhere near that sophisticated. You really need somebody who knows the songs,” he said.

“I know the songs,” Kelly volunteered. “That’s all we’ve listened to in the car. I’ve heard each of the songs at least eight times.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a musician,” I said.

“I’m a multi-subject elementary school teacher. Who do you think serves as the music teacher?” she asked.

“You’re hired!” Bernie interjected. Before I could say a thing we heard a pounding at the stage door and knew that GI Jo-Jo had arrived on schedule. Bernie let him in. He was trailed by another roadie and Delitah, who wore a sleeveless, Harley-Davidson jeans-jacket over an emerald green, sequined, sleeveless mini-dress. When we made eye contact she gave me a discrete finger wave.

“Ouch!” I quietly exclaimed as I felt my butt being pinched. Kelly doesn’t miss a thing. I wouldn’t want to be the class clown in her second grade classroom.

Fortunately, Bernie set up the karaoke equipment at a backstage table, rather than at the PA station where Kelly would have been forced to sit with GI Jo-Jo. She and Bernie spent fifteen minutes together while I helped GI Jo-Jo and his toady get set up.

About halfway through this process Jack arrived with a bass case in each hand. He made his way over to me and said, “Thanks for making this happen. The more things we can do that seem normal the less lost we’ll feel without Terry.”

     “We’ll see how grateful you are after I try singing and playing those new songs,” I said.

“I heard you at my house a few days ago and I have every confidence you’ll do a fine job,” he said with a soothing reassurance. I wondered if he was stoned or just permanently mellow.

A few minutes later Nigel rolled in with the dark-haired beauty who flashed me on my first visit to the Choate mansion. He was decidedly tense as he walked up to Jack and asked, “Has anyone seen Ian today?”

From the back of an amplifier we heard Jo-Jo yell, “I got him.” He then stood up, walked to the front of the stage, jumped down to the floor where we were standing and said, “He’s sleeping in the back of the equipment truck outside. Ian was a little more restrained than usual last night. He’ll be fine. I’ll get him up whenever you need him.”

“Excellent! Why don’t you get him now. Pour a large coffee into him and let me know when he’s functional,” Nigel said. He then turned to me and asked, “Any chance the bar will have coffee yet?”

“I’ll check with Bernie,” I said and started toward the office. Kelly intercepted me and volunteered to handle it. Five minutes later I saw she and Delitah behind the bar measuring scoops into a filter. When she noticed me watching her with a smile on my face her expression soured and she flipped me the bird. Delitah looked interested, so I returned the gesture, letting her know she was number one in my heart.

I spent the next five minutes getting my guitar tuned to Nigel’s. As we were finishing, GI Jo-Jo walked in with his arm around Ian for support. If this is better than usual I didn’t give Doberman’s Stub much of a chance for survival. Jo-Jo put Ian on a barstool and Delitah handed him a cup of black coffee, which he held to Ian’s lips. From across the room we could hear Ian yell, “Rum! It doesn’t have any bloody rum!”

After he calmed down I saw Kelly shake hands with GI Jo-Jo. A couple of minutes later Jo-Jo helped Ian to the men’s room. When Ian emerged he looked decidedly more animated. Unassisted, he made his way to the bar, picked up his coffee cup and walked to the stage where he sat on his drummer’s stool. He then picked up his sticks, pounded twice on his drums and screamed, “Let’s rock & roll!”

I could see why Terry assumed GI Jo-Jo was scoring drugs for Ian. There’s nothing he could swallow or snort that would work that fast. My best guess is that he shot up crystal meth. I turned to Nigel, who was standing next to me on stage and said, “That Starbucks is amazing stuff.”

Nigel ignored me and called out the name of the first song. Ian banged his sticks together four times and we were off. Kelly did a fantastic job of keeping pace with the karaoke machine. I had two or three minor errors, but, in general, the session went well.

When we finished, Nigel walked over to me and said, “Brilliant! You’ve far exceeded our wildest expectations.”

Jack added, “We knew you could play, but singing is clearly your strong suit.”

“Your voice is different from Terry’s, but we weren’t looking for a tribute band imitation. I don’t think the public would accept that. Your interpretation of the vocals rang true for me,” Nigel said.

Ian jumped from his riser and said, “I thought you’d be the bloody shanks, but you can play with me any day.” Sweat was profusely rolling down his face.

I worked out a few logistics with Nigel then said goodbye to the band. Delitah exited with GI Jo-Jo, so I walked over to Kelly, who was getting the karaoke equipment reset for the performance. “Great job on the monitor. You have a natural feel for music,” I said.

“Screw you, asshole,” she said. “You’re always telling me what you think I want to hear.”

“Excuse me,” I said with an incredulous tone.

Kelly looked up from the equipment, then glanced around the area. “Oh, has Delitah gone?” she asked.

“What’s it to you, bimbo?” I asked.

“You’re the one who asked me to act angry with you. And, do you know what? It worked,” she said.

“How about if I take you to dinner and you tell me all about it?” I asked.

“You’re on,” she said

We found a nice little Chinese place about ten blocks from the club. We were the only Caucasians in the restaurant, which was fine with me after studying Dad’s mug-shot book earlier in the day.

Once we placed our orders I asked, “What were you able to learn from Delitah?”

Kelly replied, “What a piece of work. She thinks she’s channeling Terry, who, by the way, is also pissed off at you for trying to fill his shoes.”

     “Do you think she was on anything?” I asked.

“I got the feeling she is always like that,” she said.

“Did you get her to talk about their plans?” I asked.

“She’s not sure if she’s going to stay with GI Jo-Jo. She said he’s dull and sometimes just plain mean. She enjoys being around the band because she likes their music, but she’s not sure if she’s going to like it as much now that Terry’s gone,” Kelly said. “I asked if Delitah was going on tour with the band, and she said it would depend on who they found to replace Terry and what kind of vibe he gave her. I got the impression she’d stay on if there was a chance she could hook up with his replacement, but won’t be with GI Jo-Jo much longer.”

“Did she give any indication if Jo-Jo is planning on taking off?” I asked.

“No. She didn’t seem to care either way. From our conversation it was hard to believe they’re a couple,” she said.

“Did she say anything else I might want to know?” I asked.

“She said you have a nice butt,” Kelly said and laughed.

When we returned to the Dali Lama, Michael Marinangeli was wheeling his amp through the stage door on a red dolly. We exchanged greetings and I could tell he was very excited about doing this gig. As the last of the working musicians, he had more to gain if the Union-Tribune’s reviewer mentioned him in his article. “How did the afternoon practice session go?” he asked.

“Not too bad for a first run-through,” I said.

“What did you think, Kelly?” he asked.

“I think Terry would approve,” she retorted and left it at that.

Michael said, “I didn’t mention it before, but I’ve gotten to be a big Doberman’s Stub fan since our band broke up. The last band I was in played at least three of their songs every gig.”

“What did you think about their cross-over to more mainstream stuff on the second CD?” I asked.

“At first I thought it was just OK, but after I saw how much the women liked it, I learned seven of the songs from that CD. When you played us the demo at Aunt Esther’s I got really excited. It sucks what happened to Terry. I know we’ve had our differences after the band broke up, but, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know,” he said, then slapped me on the shoulder and walked away.

Kelly said, “I’m starting to really like him. At first I thought he had an attitude problem, but after the last couple of days in Alpine, and now this, I’m thinking there’s more to Michael than he likes to show.”

“He used to be one of my best friends. Tsunami Rush was his idea. We all went to different high schools at the same time. Michael recruited us from area bands to form a local super-group. The band was his baby,” I said.

“What happened? Why did you break up?” she asked.

“In spite of our efforts, I came to realize that none of us can write. We were a very popular cover band but, all we would ever be is a cover band,” I said. “After nine years of covering other people’s songs I felt it was time to move on. I was dissatisfied with my job as a mental health counselor, and I was bummed that we couldn’t develop original material. When I told the band I was leaving, Derek told us he was just about to do the same thing.”

From behind us we heard, “It’s the undercover rock & roller.” I turned to see Derek wearing a sleek, black, long-sleeve T-shirt with a metallic blue wave cresting across his chest. As he walked toward us he said, “How many of the old crowd do you think will show up tonight?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

Kyle snuck up behind us and used Derek’s sticks to play a drum solo on his shoulders. “Ooowww!,” Derek cried, “I hate when you do that.”

“It’s for good luck. Every time I did that to you we had a good show,” Kyle said with a smile.

“Good luck for who? Every time you did it I got sore shoulders,” responded Derek.

“It’s starting to sound so familiar,” I added. It was almost 8:00 PM, time for the club to open. The first set would start at 8:30 PM and last one hour. After a twenty-minute break, Doberman’s Stub will play till 11:15 PM. Then, after another break, Tsunami Rush will play two more hours. It was time to go backstage and get dressed for the show.

As we were about to clear the stage area, Jasmine dropped by to say Bernie wanted to see us at his table. I introduced Jasmine to Kelly and we all walked to Bernie’s table. Jasmine led us through a large cluster of cocktail tables to a two-foot riser that held a table for twenty. This was the best view of the bandstand in the house.

“What’s up Bernie?” I asked when we had all assembled in front of his table.

He replied, “I have four guests coming. This table seats twenty. If you’d like your guests to join me, I’ll be glad to play host.”

“Thanks Bernie. We’d love to join you,” I said.

“Why don’t you sit next to me while the boys get dressed. Have you met Calvin and Justin?” he asked Kelly.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Well you’re in for a treat. Those guys could tell you stories about Jason all night,” he said and winked at me.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said with a smile.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Bernie said. “Has your rabbi ever let you down?”

I replied, “Never. Take good care of her, Bernie.

At 8:25 Kyle peaked out at the crowd and saw that most of the bar and almost half of the tables were full. This was an excellent sign considering the hour. Either that or we were starting to attract a geriatric audience.