A Murderer Among Us, page 7
“Rock?” Chase suggested.
“We will rock it,” Joe promised. “Hey, it’s Itch and Scratch, Mr. Mom Justin and Wild Man, Crazy Charlie. Now, there’s a pairing for you!”
Justin and Charlie came in, making faces at Joe. “Hey, Mr. Mom?” Justin demanded.
“Said with love and all good things,” Joe promised him. “You managed this all being a great husband and dad.”
“Hmm. Wild Man? Crazy Charlie?” Charlie asked.
Skylar had a smile plastered on her face as she accepted hugs from the two of them, too. There was nothing wrong with Justin’s looks; he was a young, strong sixty-plus, but he tended to have a more serious demeanor, and she’d noted through many occasions that he was happiest when his wife was able to attend whatever gig they were working and that he worried about the right gift for her on any occasion. On the other hand, Charlie had dark brown eyes, almost platinum hair and a smile that made him alluring—except to Sky, it also made him appear a little...smarmy. If that was a word.
“You are a wild man,” Joe said simply. “But hey—”
“Hey, yeah, the invitation came from Sky’s email—to come to Chase’s house. So, hmm, should we assume some old fires have rekindled and we have a hunk, a hunk of burning love going on here?” Charlie asked.
“Charlie,” Joe murmured. “The kids...”
“Kids? Joe, they grew up!” Justin protested.
“My question is purely selfish. If the studly drummer is occupied with the luscious young singer, that leaves more adoring fans ready to pounce on a roadie just because he’s close to the band!” Charlie said.
Sky smiled and said, “Thank you. I think. Yeah, um, I mean, who knows? But...yes...we’re having this luncheon together.”
“You two are together?” Joe said, looking at them. He seemed surprised at first and then pleased. “Jake would be pleased,” Joe said softly. “Chase is a good boy—”
“Joe! These kids are both over twenty-one now and, from what I hear, leading full and responsible lives,” Nathan said, stepping back into the conversation. “Then again,” he added with a shrug, “you guys will be kids to Joe and the other oldsters as long as we all live.”
“True,” Chase said, setting his arm around Sky’s shoulders. “Guess what, Nathan. Hank calls you guys kids, too. He told me he used to call anyone under forty a kid, but now it’s anyone under fifty.”
“We’re going to miss Hank,” Joe said. “But! We want him better. The world is revolving again, and we’ve gotten so many offers.”
“And,” Charlie said, “let’s hope you’re going to take them. Have to stay relevant. I mean, we may all know you, Chris and Mark are older than dirt, but between us all, we caught some great acts last year! I saw the Stones, still amazing. I saw the Eagles, Def Leppard, U2 and more, but I believe putting the Sky into Skyhawk is going to be something amazing!”
“Hey,” Chris protested, “I may be older than dirt, but I have a full head of hair, dark bedroom eyes—if I do say so myself—and I can pass for...well, at least five years younger. Neither here nor there. Back to it. So... Sky?”
“I can’t promise a tour,” Sky told him.
“But she’s not not promising a tour, either,” Chase said.
“Well, cool, young McCoy. We believe Hank will be back,” Joe said, “but we all know you’re welcome for half the gig anytime.”
“Hey—and there, at the gate. Mark, Chris and Brandon!” Sky said.
Sky wanted this lunch; they needed the gathering. Or did they? Was it going to help any? They knew the players... Nathan, reserved, glad to be behind the curtain. Charlie, always out there, the guy to overdo things.
But did that make him...homicidal?
But something had happened. Chase had always known it; he had been working it, and maybe what had happened had turned him onto the path he’d taken as what now seemed to be the life of a perpetual student.
And she felt uncomfortable, standing there as they were.
“Hail, hail! The gang’s all here!”
“You’re here,” Mark said, looking from Nathan to Charlie to Justin. “You’re here. But tonight, we have our chance at the venue—”
“Are you kidding, man?” Justin asked. “We started last night, and we finished up this morning. All we need is Skyhawk up on the stage.”
“Sky and Skyhawk!” Charlie said, turning to look at her. His expression was serious, and his words were spoken with what seemed like real warmth. “Seriously, Sky. Your dad was always so proud of you. On stage and off. Someone asked him once what he wanted you to be when you grew up—a rock star, or maybe president of the United States. He said he just wanted you to grow up to be a good and decent person doing what you loved for a living, whatever that proved to be. He would be so proud.”
“Charlie,” she said softly, “thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” She turned to the others. “Come on, we’ve provided all kinds of our city’s finest choices. I mean we are a music city, and we are a food city! Let’s eat! We have jambalaya, crawfish étouffée and so much more! Let’s do this!”
“Fine!” Chris said. “Boy, and it’s as if he heard the dinner bell—here comes Brandon now!”
Chase moved ahead and did a presentation of all the dishes he had ordered, with Chris Wiley laughing and telling him it was a feast for kings—on paper plates.
“I have important work tonight. No time for dishes,” Chase explained. “Eight chairs at the table, but we can drag in the stools from the kitchen, or anyone can sit wherever they want to sit. Just dig in. It’s great to be together.”
“Let’s do a video chat with Hank, too, huh? Could we?” Mark asked.
“Sure, he has his phone,” Chase said. “I’ll try to reach him.”
He stepped into the kitchen area to make the call while the others grabbed plates and piled them high.
Sky waited for the others and realized she was standing back. To her surprise, Charlie turned to her and spoke softly. “Sky...”
“Yes?”
He looked pained. “I...I know how to work a stage. I know we weren’t blamed, and the fire marshal said there was a faulty wire, no one could have done anything. I just... I always felt guilty. As if there should have been something...that I should have seen something, that...”
“Charlie, stop, please!” she said, setting an arm on his shoulder. He was the wild one. The one who might have gone off the deep end at one time or another.
But she believed he was sincere. His eyes were filled with pain.
“Charlie, I know that you know wires, and I know you’d never have allowed anything bad up there. I know you loved my dad. Please, the pain of loss is bad enough. We never blamed you, my mom never blamed you.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate your words. They help.”
“Got him!” Chase said, walking back in from the kitchen. He lifted his phone. Hank was there in his hospital bed, but Sky was relieved to see that despite his recent health scare, he looked good. Full head of snow-white hair, handsome face betraying his years and a smile that was still great. She imagined after many years had passed Chase by, he might look much the same.
“Hey!” Hank greeted the others. “Get out there tonight and knock ’em—”
He broke off. Of course he’d been about to say knock ’em dead.
But no one in Skyhawk was going to use that expression.
“Knock ’em off their feet! Rock the house down. I can’t be there,” Hank said, “but in my mind, your substitute may be the better choice.”
“Never, Gramps,” Chase told him. “But I’ll do my best.”
“Sky, you look stunning! Then again, always,” Hank told her.
“Thanks, Hank. And you feel better soon. You are still one handsome devil!” she assured him.
“I wish I was there for the food.”
“Soon enough, Gramps,” Chase said sternly. “You’re going to follow the doctors’—”
“Orders, yes, Chase, I promise. Because if Skyhawk is hitting the tour circuit along with a lot of our fellows from the seventies and eighties, I’m going to be well and hitting it with everyone again. Nathan, Justin, Charlie—great that you’re on it. Where’s whatshisname?” Hank asked suddenly.
“Gramps, who is whatshisname?” Chase asked.
“You are talking about Malcolm—Kenneth Malcolm?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah. He’s still working the place, right?” Hank asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Mark said. “Sorry, I thought I’d mentioned that when I visited to tell you we’d been to the place.”
“His name was on the paperwork when we made the plans,” Hank said. “Months ago. Didn’t know, though, with the way things go these days—”
“Oh, yeah, he’s still there. And guess what? He’s been really decent,” Charlie told him. “I think he had tickets and the thing is sold out and he’s raking it in on resale.”
“Whatever, as long as it all goes well. Sky, I swear, I dreamed about being on a cloud with your dad watching, and he was beaming,” Hank said.
“Thanks, Hank,” Sky told him.
“And get the video chick or whoever is on doing the Jumbotrons to make sure she’s got me on the wire while it’s going on!” Hank said.
“Will do, Gramps,” Chase promised.
“Go eat!” Hank commanded. “Oh, wait. I can see Mark and Joe chewing. But the rest of you—have lunch! I can almost smell it from here. They have me on a cruel diet—yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise I’m going to stick to it! But go—quit torturing me, showing it all to me.”
“Bye, Hank, just get well,” Charlie said, and his words were echoed around the room.
Chase ended the video call.
“We never answered him,” Joe said. “Did you guys invite Kenneth Malcolm?”
Chase made a face. “I didn’t think of him.”
“Neither did I,” Sky admitted.
“He’s a jerk anyway,” Justin said with a shrug. “He’s being nice because he’s making money. Doesn’t matter—I’m still glad to be away from him for this. Tonight, during tech, he’ll be all over us, I promise you. So... Gumbo! I love it!”
Food and good humor went all around, different band members and stage techs sitting next to each other, switching around for dessert—bread pudding and pecan pie—and exchanging seats again.
Then Justin glanced at his watch. “Let’s get over there. We’ve a host of other people working under us on this. The MC, the light crew, the computer geek...and because of Mr. Kenneth Malcolm, I’d love to see it all go right.”
“We’re out of here!” Nathan agreed. “Charlie, come on. We’re aiming for perfect!”
“Nothing is ever perfect,” Joe warned.
“But we gotta aim high, right?” Mark asked, studying Sky. “Aim high, like our founder, but now we’ve got his daughter, and...”
Chase slipped his arms around Sky, pulling her back against him as he spoke over her shoulders. “Jake’s beautiful Sky, as perfect as we can get, right?”
“No, no, no, no, no—not putting it all on me!” Sky said lightly. “Anyway, thank you, guys, all of you. This was great.”
“No, thank you and Chase, our legacy, eh?” Chris offered.
“Aw, chopped liver over here?” Brandon asked, causing them all to laugh.
“Prime sirloin,” Mark assured him. “And Chris is bringing you in a lot for this one, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Hey, when time starts going by, well... It’s nice to see you’ve passed on something of value—and whether you kids decide to keep at it or not, you made us feel good, so...prime sirloin!”
“Personally, I was thinking of filet,” Sky said, smiling at Brandon. He grinned in return.
“So we’ll meet up again in a few hours,” Mark said. “After last night, I have nothing but faith. Oh, for the performance, we’ll have the ballad as the encore. And maybe—the encore should have at least two numbers—we’ll also do ‘Real Paradise.’”
“Gotcha,” Chase assured him.
One by one, their guests filed out. When they were gone, Chase was silent.
“Well, did you get anything?” she asked him.
“Charlie would have been first on my list,” Chase said. “And no more.”
“Really?” Sky pressed. “I mean...he’s...he was super and kind, but he is the one most likely to fall to excess.”
Chase let out a long sigh. “Okay. We both think it was more than an accident. That means that your dad was going to do something after the show that involved someone—who or what, we don’t know. He didn’t care if other people had their minor vices, but...”
“He’d care if someone was selling drugs,” Sky said.
“And those who use recreationally—sometimes a little too recreationally—aren’t usually the ones with the control to make money on the scam.”
“So...why?” Sky asked, perplexed. “Skyhawk started off in a garage, and they all struggled. But then they got hot, and everyone involved made money. Why—”
Chase frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve deep-dived into the financials—”
“What?” Sky interrupted explosively.
“Hey, years of criminology courses can pay off,” he said lightly. “We have a few hours—”
“Dog,” Skylar said.
“What did you say?” he demanded.
She smiled. “You said I needed a dog. Let’s head to the pound.”
He was quiet for a minute and then looked at her, a half grin on his lips. “We can get a dog. You should have one. A dog is always good. But you won’t get rid of me. Not until—”
“Until we get through this? Because,” she added, frustrated, “we never got any answers.”
“But we will,” he assured her. “Still, a dog. A big one with a bark that shakes the very trees.”
“No Teacup Yorkies or the like, eh?” she said lightly. “What if a big dog is mean—”
“Wait!” he said. “I have the perfect dog. Let me get this all cleaned up, and then I have a friend you should meet. Great guy, with great, perfect dogs.”
“I thought I was going to adopt a dog that needed a home.”
“You’ll be adopting. Wait and see. I’ve got the ticket on this one.”
He turned away from her, taking out trash bags. She hopped in to help him, separating trash from recycling. They were quickly done, and he swore he’d be right down as he ran quickly up the stairs.
“Let’s go,” he said, descending almost as rapidly as he had left.
“Okay. Where are we heading?”
“Tremé,” he told her. “A great piece of property there...well, you’ll see!”
They headed out, leaving the French Quarter to cross Rampart. In a few minutes, they came to a solid block that seemed to be mainly pasture and stables.
“Someone who owns a carriage company?” Sky asked.
“No, Trey owns horses, but not carriage horses. He’s just a friend who...lectured one day. He’s retired now and came into some family money.”
Chase spoke as he pulled into a parking space outside a wooden fence. They had barely gotten out of the car when a gate opened and an older man appeared, a welcoming smile on his face.
“Chase!” he said with pleasure.
“Trey!” Chase called in return, and leading Sky forward, he introduced her and then said, “Sky, this is Trey Montgomery, and I think we might just call him an animal whisperer since he has enormous talents with all kinds of creatures!”
“Come in, come in, and welcome!” Trey said. He was almost Chase’s height and, though lean, seemed to be made of sinewy muscles.
“Retired—teacher?” she asked him.
“Something like that,” he told her. “I sure love what I do now, though.” He pointed out a pasture where five horses were wandering about, snatching bits of grass here and there from the earth. “The paint there—that’s Sally. She just came in last week.” He paused, shrugging. “Most workhorses are tended to carefully, fed, seen by the vet...then you hit an idiot who should never be around any kind of animal—including humankind—and he abuses a creature to no end. We’ve finally taken care of the sores in her mouth from having a bridle ripped around like a hockey puck, and she lets me approach her. I don’t think we’ll ever see her coat grow back over some of the scars she got from a whip, but...hey, at least they got the bastard on animal-abuse charges!”
“And you got the horse,” Chase said, smiling.
“Sally already comes to me,” Trey said happily. “But you don’t want a horse. You want a dog. I think I have the perfect new friend. Come on to the house!”
His house was a simple ranch-style dwelling; when Trey opened the door, he was greeted by a bevy of dogs, most of them German shepherds or shepherd mixes. He made a point of petting them all, as did Chase and then Skylar.
“So...” Chase said.
“Larry,” Trey said. “Right there. He’s a shepherd/Lab mix, a big boy, trained in all kinds of disciplines, and doing great since he has been with me. He was injured on the job and retired.”
“Injured—” Sky began.
“He was a police dog, worked with the canine squad,” Chase explained.
“And he’s already taken to you!” Trey said happily.
He had, Sky realized. The dog they called Larry was by her side, wagging his tail as he looked up at her. He looked mostly like a shepherd, but his coloring was golden Lab. He was a handsome creature, and his tail kept wagging away as he stood by her side.
