The Wages of Cin (Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries Book 4) (2 page)

“Cin Fin-Lathen, this is Elijah. You probably know him best as Ely.  Elijah, this is one of my best mates and fabulous bass player Alex Lathen.  His mother’s detecting partner is sitting over there, Harry O’Rourke,” Simon said.  “I was trying to convince them to come and figure out what the hell is going on with your tour.”

Elijah walked over and ruffled Simon’s hair and tucked a flask into his hospital gown before turning around and addressing the group.  “My band is cursed and has been since ’96.  I thought, if we could hold it together for the summer and get this tour finished, the new album’s sales could carry all of us into retirement gracefully. We’ve put our differences aside. They’re good guys and have families.  All that rock ’n’ roll nonsense is long gone.   Aside from a little medical weed and watered booze, it’s a pretty tame little group.  Most of the support people I’ve worked with before.  Simon is the only new guy, and he’s only filling in, as your son would be.  Come on, Mom, help us out.”

Having a handsome man a few years my junior call me Mom was one thing, but having him plead with me was another.  I turned to Harry and asked, “What do you think?”

“I think we could wrap this up before the tour leaves Florida,” he said professionally.

“Mr. Broadhurst, we would be acting as consultants, not detectives,” I warned him.

“That’s fine with me.  Give me a card, and I’ll have my business manager contact you with the fine print stuff.  Right now, I’d like to take your son and see if he has what it takes to blend in with my band.”

Alex got up.  “I don’t have my bass with me. I don’t normally bring my gear to hospitals. A few mental asylums, but that’s about it.”

“I’m sure I can find you something to play.”

I tossed Alex the keys to his car.  “We’ll get a cab home.”

Elijah turned and walked over and took my hand.  “Come.  We’ll only be a little while, then we’ll have dinner and then you can all go home together.”

I don’t know if I was still under the spell of those green eyes or I was genuinely curious about the behind-the-scenes life of a rock band because I nodded and let Elijah pull me through the hospital corridors and out into the Florida sunshine.

South Florida concerts are held both indoors and outdoors depending on the music and the crowd.  Air-conditioned auditoriums are a bit too formal for most bands, and the cost high.  Most opt for the outdoor stages with large, high awnings to block all but the heavy downpours.  It rains a lot in south Florida in the summertime.  Thunderstorms cruise across the peninsula around midday, leaving a steamy landscape.  By sundown, the moisture is gone, and even the grassy berms are dry enough to sit on the ground.  Elijah drove us to one such place.  It was a midsize outdoor auditorium with a covered concert stage.

I followed Elijah’s Mustang convertible through the guard gates, stopping briefly for a day pass to ensure that Alex’s vehicle wasn’t towed away by an overeager security guard.  We parked behind the stage.  Elijah walked over and opened my door for me.  He took my hand again.  I can admit now that each time this man touched me, a year of hard-learned, male-centered cynicism melted away.  I caught Harry looking at me oddly.  I didn’t really care.  For the moment, I was free of hurt and the nagging control of common sense.  In short, I was enjoying myself.

We walked into the support building under the stage after Elijah swiped his keycard in the electronic lock.

“How many people have access to the stage before a performance?” Harry asked.

“Band, roadies, stage manager and his personnel,” Elijah answered.  “During the concert, VIPs who paid for the pleasure of meeting the band, our guests and a few journalists can be added to the mix.  So, basically, a lot of goddamn people.”

Harry made a few notes before he nodded for us to proceed.

The inside of the building was cold, and I shivered.  Elijah stopped and took off his blazer and handed it to me, saying, “They overdo it on the air down here, but believe me, it feels good after being up there for a set.”

I slipped on the expensive jacket that smelled lightly of cologne, cigarettes and something else I would later know as Elijah’s own scent.

“I don’t imagine you’re that familiar with my set list,” Elijah addressed Alex.  “But I think you’ll be able to pick it up.  Nothing too complicated.  Meyer, my drummer, is excellent at keeping us on beat.”

“My mother has your CDs, but the new stuff I’ll have to listen to,” Alex said.

Elijah turned and smiled at me.  “Which ones?”

I felt my stomach flip but managed to name the three I had, which was some feat considering that I’m not particularly good at remembering song titles.

“That’s the extent of my mark on the music scene.  Regretfully, after the Louisville incident, the band broke up.”  He stopped and used his card again to open up a set of doors.  Alex and Harry walked in.  Elijah held the door and waited until we had passed before continuing, “The new album is done. I’ll give you a copy.”

I stammered a thank you.

“This is the band’s suite.  Here in the lounge, we can kick back.  Over through those doors, Alex, you should find Simon’s gear,” Elijah directed.  He walked over to a small refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.  “Water?”

I declined, but Harry took a bottle.

“Why don’t you two make yourselves comfortable while I work with Alex,” he suggested.

I watched my son and Elijah disappear into the next room.

“Smart thinking,” Harry said.

“What?”

“Getting his jacket.  Go through the pockets,” Harry instructed.

“I’m not sure…”

In seconds, Harry had the jacket off my shoulders.  I watched mutely while he drew out business cards, candy wrappers, a lighter, and guitar picks.  He handed it back to me.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

Harry looked at me.  “Are you feeling alright?”

“A little cold but fine,” I said, pulling the jacket around me.

“You’re acting odd.  Odder,” he corrected.  “I want to go up on the stage to check out the place of the accident.”

“I think we better wait for our host and Alex,” I suggested.

“Why?”

“How much do you know about electric basses?” I asked him.

“I know how to properly set up a stage.  You forget I used to manage the stage at the college.”

“You weren’t the manager. Miles was…”  I regretted bringing up the late manager’s name.  He was Harry’s old boss and one of the victims of the serial killers.

“Miles had the title, but believe me, the students did all the work.”

“Knowing Miles, I believe you.”

“Cin, you’ve been on a few stages.”

“Nothing like that one up there,” I admitted.  “The largest outdoor stage I’ve been on was in that shopping center in Boca Raton.”

“You’re forgetting the fairgrounds…”

“Yes, but that was so long ago.  How’d you know about that?”

“You keep forgetting, I’ve been in Alex’s shadow for a dozen years.”

“Gee, I’m sorry.  The fairground concert was a one-off.”  I had been filling in for a bass clarinet player who had fallen ill.  He was playing backup for a jazz crooner.  For me, it was a stress-filled evening, and my surroundings were no more than a blur.  “I don’t remember too much about the stage, unfortunately.”

The sounds of Alex tuning up a bass pushed through the closed doors.

“They’re going to be busy for a while. Let’s get started,” Harry said.

I took off the blazer and carefully laid it across a chair.  I stared at it a moment.

“Come on.  Once you get outside, you’ll feel better,” Harry said.

I followed him through the halls, and after a few missteps, we found one of the stage entrances.  We climbed the stairs to find ourselves on the right side of the stage.  I timidly walked out onto the stage and surveyed the view of the large audience area.  I estimated that if Alex could be brought up to speed today, then tomorrow night, the band would be playing to six thousand people.  Cancelling would be an expensive situation for Ely’s Coming
.

“Harry, make a note to ask the business manager about insurance.  Was the venue insured against cancellation, rain delays, etcetera?”

I turned around, taking in the expanse of the stage and the taped marks.  I walked over to where I thought a bass player would stand and found the stage flooring scorched and the black paint bubbled.  I squatted down and ran my hand along the wood, looking for any openings in the floor.  Aside from a few covered electrical outlets, the floor was sound.

“Harry, do they still play plugged in?” I asked.

“Electric guitars need electricity,” he stated.

“I was thinking about sound.  Are they plugged into amps?” I questioned.

“It depends how active the band is,” a voice said from behind me.

I turned around to see an attractive, thin man drift across the stage towards me.  I stood up and held out a hand.

“Cin Fin-Lathen, consultant for Mr. Broadhurst.”

The man shook my hand firmly.  “Sidney Stoneridge, sound engineer.  He looked down at the floor and winced.  “I take it you’re looking into Simon’s accident.”

“More or less.”

“I think I did it. I’m responsible,” he said, his brown eyes connecting with mine.  “I gave him the new cord.  It must have gotten wet at some point.  Moisture and electricity…”  He put his hands together and drew them apart, miming a blast.  “I’m real careful with the equipment, but shit happens.”

“What did the accident investigator say?” I asked.

“I thought you two were them.”

“We’re not from the insurance company.”

“Sorry, I assumed.  What are you doing then?”

“Looking around to see if there was any foul play involved,” Harry said, walking up.  “The band has a history of problems.”

“I heard that.  But I’ve been working with these guys since they recorded the new album, and there’s not a drop of bad blood between any of them,” he professed.  “Some of these reunion bands are so full of ego and past vendettas that it’s not worth the money being around them.  This group’s different.”

“There’s a rumor of food poisoning.”

“Not a rumor, I’m still recovering.  Bad guacamole.  Avocados sitting out too long equals two days of the shits.”

I nodded in sympathy.  “You don’t look like you have too much weight to spare.”

“Ah, that’s the chemo.  I used to be a tub.  Here…” he said, drawing out his wallet.  He handed me his driver’s license.

I looked at the photo.  A beefy man stared back at me. I looked at Sidney, and I could just barely see the resemblance.  “How’s it going?” I asked, handing him back his ID.

“There’s hope.  Last blood test was looking good.”

“Good,” I said.  I chose to change the subject.  It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable talking to a total stranger about his cancer, but I got the idea that he was moving on and so would I.  “Have you seen anyone about, prior to the accident, who didn’t seem to belong?”

“I’m here first thing to set my equipment up, and I don’t remember anyone who wasn’t invited.  I can’t vouch for the bands spouses and exes though.  I can’t keep track of who’s who anymore.  Mandy looks just like Elijah’s ex.  It’s hard telling them apart.  I made the mistake of addressing who I thought was Mandy in a friendly way and was shut down by the former Mrs. Broadhurst.”

“Gee, I’d love to be mistaken for my daughter,” I said wistfully.

“Don’t get me wrong, darlin’, but you’re not doing too bad considering,” he said shyly.

“You, sir, just made it onto my Christmas card list.”

“Cin, stop flirting,” Harry called.  “We’re burning daylight.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to go.”  I dug out a business card.  “Sidney, if you think of anything, please give me a call.”

He looked at the card and nodded.  “You’re local.”

“Up west of Palm Beach.”

“I used to do the sound at the Palm Beach County Fairgrounds,” he said. His face lit up.  “That’s where I know you from.  You played bass clarinet for Zgap.”

I was taken aback at the man’s memory.  “I filled in one night.”

“It’s the hair; no one looks like you, Cin.”

“Now I believe you’re flirting with me,” I said.  “Use the number, Sidney.”  I walked away feeling younger and lighter than I had in a long time.

I caught up to Harry at the stairs on the left side of the stage.  “Wait up.”

~

We walked in on a duet.  I forgot that Alex would have to sing.  His baritone voice underlined Elijah’s nicely.  It wasn’t a match for Gareth Goodbody, but for an outdoor concert, it would do.  There were only a few songs where Gareth sang with the group.  Most of the backup was done by the lead guitar player, Manuel Rodriguez, Elijah’s boyhood friend.  Elijah’s daughter Mandy’s name was influenced by this friendship that had endured the band breaking up and three divorces between the two friends.

Elijah looked over as he was singing.  I have to admit, I forgot instantly about the kind sound engineer as soon as those eyes locked on mine.  He smiled and continued singing.  Alex was doing more than keeping up; he held the beat no matter how much Elijah tried to vary the meter.  Elijah lifted two fingers, and Alex started to fly with the bass.  The two ended up winded, but the music was great.

“Whew!  That was awesome,” Elijah said.

“I felt you try to pull away from me. I didn’t know if that was intentional…”

“Just testing you, Alex.  I think, unless you and Manny hate each other, you’ve got a job.  A gig for tomorrow night, even if he hates you,” he specified.  I’m going to send you home with some videos and audio tracks of the new stuff.  Fortunately, concert crowds are most forgiving, as long as we don’t forget the words.” He laughed, remembering something that he kept to himself.  “I promised you a meal…”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get home and prepare,” Alex begged off.

Elijah frowned. “How about you, Cin?”

“She’s free,” Harry answered for me.  “Just get her home in one piece.”

Elijah’s face held mine.  I shook off the spell I was in and sputtered my consent.

“Good.  I’ll introduce Alex to the sound engineer before we leave.  Why don’t you chill here.”

I nodded.

After Alex and Elijah left, I let out the air I was holding.  “Harry, what have you gotten me into?” I asked weakly.

“Ply him with alcohol and get as much background as you can.  Ex-wives, ex-girlfriends, groupies, stalkers,” he listed.  “Find out if he stepped on anyone’s toes on the way up or down.”

“I’m dressed for the hospital not dinner.”

“You look great.  Sidney seemed to think so,” he teased.

I blushed.  “I was shocked that someone would remember me from that long ago,” I said.

“Take it from me, Cin. No one who meets you can ever forget you.”

“Gee, thanks, Harry.”

“It’s not your looks, mind you.  But you are one of a kind.”

“I withdraw my thanks,” I said and added, “Ouch.”

“Yikes, I didn’t mean.  What did I mean?  I guess I’m trying to say that you’re more than the physical; you’re the whole package.  To know you is to…”