WHEN THE MUSIC DIES (MUSIC CITY MURDERS Book 1) (30 page)

Norm was leaning against the door and the head rest, looking up at nothing and blinking his eyes. His arm was across his chest, then it dropped to his lap.

“Norm! Norm! You okay?” Mike asked trying to watch both the traffic and his partner.

“Yeah—I guess.” Norm grunted. “I’m—a little scared.”

“Me too, buddy. Me too. I’m driving as fast as I can,” Mike shouted over the siren. “Hang on. We’ll be at Saint Thomas in less than five minutes.”

Saint Thomas Hospital ER

Nashville, Tennessee

Wednesday Afternoon

Mike jumped up when Cheryl came through the double doors from the Emergency Room. He met her in the middle of the waiting room with extended arms. Her face was a mixture of sad eyes and a tired smile. She hugged him so tight it hurt.

“Well?” Mike said, returning the hug.

Cheryl sniffled. “He’s going to be okay, thanks to you.”

“Oh, thank God. That’s great news.”

“He did have a heart attack, but you got him here soon afterward and the doctors were able to mitigate the damage. He’s in the Cath Lab getting a couple of stents to open his arteries up. One was ninety-percent blocked.”

“Geez. Are stents going to fix that?”

“Yes. He’ll be fine once I get him home for a few days. I’m going to have to whip him into shape so he doesn’t end up giving
me
a heart attack worrying about him. You saved his life, Mike.”

“No, they saved him in there. I only drove fast.”

“What happened anyway?” Cheryl asked.

“I’m not sure. He did some running to catch up with a suspect, maybe a hundred yards? When I got there, Norm had him covered. He did a great job. It was textbook. The guy was frozen in front of Norm's Glock.

“I thought he was just taxed because of the run. Then he reached for his chest. I rushed him here as fast as I could.”

“Thank you.” Cheryl smiled. “You did the right thing.” She pressed her palms against Mike’s cheeks, leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “Now you have to help me get him to drop some weight so we don’t lose him.”

“I’ll help you. Tell me what I need to do.”

“Thank you, Michael. I owe you.”

“I’ll take my payback in your Italian cooking, now that the big one can’t eat it.” Mike grinned.

“Deal. Norm gets the salad and he’ll have to watch you eat the Italian.” Cheryl hugged him again. “I’ve got to go back.”

“When can I see the big lummox?”

“Later, I’ll call you. Okay?”

“That’s fine,” Mike said. “I’m so glad he’s okay.”

“Me too,” Cheryl said as she walked back toward the ER. She turned back and waved as the double doors opened for her.

“Tell him I said to hurry up and get well. I need my chauffeur back.” Mike smiled.

Charlotte Avenue

Nashville, Tennessee

Wednesday Afternoon

Karim drove Ahmed’s car into an open spot at the side of the adult bookstore and left the keys in the ignition. Before the night was over, the car would be stolen, stripped and likely burned. But most importantly, it would not be able to be linked to them. Abdul pulled the SUV close behind the car. Karim removed the rear license plate from Ahmed’s car and got in the SUV. As they drove away, Sajid continued to follow the SUV in his car.

“Where will we go? Karim asked.

“I am not sure yet,” Abdul said. “I must think.” He drove a while without talking, and then he said, “Thanks to Ahmed, the plan is in jeopardy. If we fail, Farid will be furious, and those who have employed us will ruin us. We will be disgraced.”

“I know someone who can help us with a place to live.”

“Who?”

“Hasan. He and his brother have a house in an area called Donelson. It is only a few miles east of here. They have a basement apartment. Several weeks ago he asked me to move in with them to share the rent. I told him I could not due to the lease agreement where we were living.”

“Karim, we cannot go just anywhere. Do you know what I have in the back of this car?”

“Yes. I know.”

“Do you understand the significance of this jihad? This conference gives us multiple targets in the same place at the same time. This attack will be felt by hundreds and remembered by all. It will show the impertinent Americans and the independent Kurds that they are defenseless against Allah’s will.”

“We understand more than you know,” Karim said. “If we did not, why would we be here, prepared to sacrifice everything? Like you, we are committed to Allah's will. Trust us. You will not be disappointed. I intend to honor my father's memory. It is all I have left to do. I am almost Ahmed's size, and I am willing to wear the device.”

Abdul looked at the young man, now ready to be a martyr. He continued to drive. “Are you sure you know what you are saying?”

“I am sure.” Karim looked into Abdul’s eyes. “Let me call Hasan. I am certain that he will be willing to help us. I have spent much time talking with him over the past months. He is a good man of strong faith, and I am sure he will be anxious to serve Allah's will.”

Abdul glanced back at Karim, and then stared at the road ahead. He contemplated the suggestion knowing their options now were few.

“Call him,” Abdul said. “I will agree to meet with him and consider the use of his home. However, he is to know nothing—
nothing.
Do you understand?”

“I do. I will tell him there was a plumbing problem above us in the building, and it flooded our apartment. There were no other apartments available, and we have nowhere else to go.”

“Tell him the three of us will be there only a few days while we look for another home, and I will pay him well for his trouble. All this will be behind us soon, Karim.”

“I will tell him,” Karim said.

“Also,” Abdul added, “tell your friend to make sure this basement is clean, or I will not be able to stay there with you.”

“I understand.”

Lieutenant Burris’s Office

Nashville, Tennessee

Wednesday Afternoon

“Hi. Are you waiting, too?” Cris sat next to Mike.

“One of my most polished detective skills,” Mike said, thumbing through his notes.

“You seeing the lieutenant?” Cris asked.

“Yep. You?”

“He’s a popular man,” Cris said.

“That he is,” Mike agreed.

“Sorry to hear about Norm. He seems like a great partner. Is he going to be okay?”

“Sure. He’s strong. He likes to be the center of attention, but I will have to say, this is the first time he’s done anything this dramatic.”

Cris laughed.

“How is
your
partner? Sorry to call him that, I couldn’t think of another term for him that didn’t include the word
ass
.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Cris said. “I think he stays up nights studying how to be a bigger jerk. Does anyone like him?”

“I heard his mother can almost tolerate him,” Mike said.

“I’m surprised.”

“Cris, Mike. Come in,” Burris said, standing in his doorway.

“Ladies first,” Mike held out his hand.

Cris stopped in her tracks, looked at Mike and shook her head. “Not on duty.”

“Good.” He stepped into the lieutenant’s office ahead of her.

“I was on the phone with Norm’s doctor,” Burris said as he pulled his desk chair under him. “The angiogram confirmed two arterial blockages. The stents should fix him up.”

“They’re not going to do surgery?” Cris asked.

“The doctor said it wasn’t necessary; he said Norm was young and a good candidate for the stents. He’s looking at maybe a one week recovery.

“He’s a tough nut,” Mike said.

“Okay, this brings us to this. He held out both hands; one toward each of the detectives. As of today, and until further notice, you two are partners.”

“Yes!” Cris said in a controlled shout as she punched the air in front of her. “Sorry, Lieutenant.” She looked over to Mike with a hesitant smile.

Mike glanced at Cris with a blank look on his face. She was smiling like a nun with four aces.

“You okay with this detective?” Burris asked Mike. “I think I can speculate on Vega’s take.”

Mike answered slowly, trying to appear concerned. “I’m not sure. It may take me a little while to get used to a new partner.”

“Oh, my guess is you can handle it. Listen, I need you two to talk to a uniform at the South Precinct,” Burris said. “His prints were all over the dark blue Denali next to Hamid’s car at Cumberland Plaza. His name is Kurt Newsome and we have no record on the log of his presence at the crime scene. I want some answers on why his prints are all over that SUV. He is supposed to be meeting you two at the South Precinct in,” Burris checked the clock on his desk, “about thirty minutes.”

“We’ve got it,” Mike said.

“They also matched up another partial set from the driver’s side of Hamid’s car.”

“Really?” Cris said.

“James Daniel Mullins,” Burris said, smiling.

“We expected that one,” Mike said calmly.

“What do you mean you expected it?” Burris asked.

“Sarah Jennings told us last night. He put his hands on the car when he approached her and made the threat about Hamid. She was using his car to run errands while hers was in the shop.”

“Damn,” Burris said. “I’ve got a meeting. You two have any questions?”

“No sir,” Cris said.

The new partners left for the South Precinct and their meeting with Officer Kurt Newsome.

“So,” Cris said after they were on their way, “I hope you don’t mind, but I was asking around about you, and I heard you lost your sister to homicide.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t remember; one of the detectives.”

“Yes,” Mike looked straight ahead. “Connie was killed in ‘94.”

“Sorry. It’s tough losing a sibling,” Cris said.

“She was my only sibling.”

“That had to be tough on the whole family.”

“My Mom had already passed when it happened—breast cancer.”

“Geez, Mike. That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

“Connie’s death caused a rift in what was left of our already small family,” Mike said.

“I understand the rift, but as a rule, it’s not events that cause them,” Cris said, “people do.”

Mike thought about Cris’s statement for a moment and began to feel defensive. “You have a degree in psychology?”

“No. Like you unfortunately, I have experience.”

“Oh?”

“My brother Joey joined the Marines right out of high school. He was eighteen at the time, so he didn’t need my parent’s permission. Mom went crazy. She raised eight kinds of hell for the entire time between his enlistment and the day he left. I thought the poor kid was going to move out to get some peace during his last weeks.”

Cris looked out the windows, scanning the area as they drove, and recalling the experience.

“Anyway, she fought her best fight to get Dad to convince Joey to change his mind. My father wasn’t about to try to influence Joey. He acted like he agreed with her to keep the peace between them, and Joey knew that.

“He wouldn’t admit it to her, but Dad was so proud of Joey he could bust. The day Joey came home after signing up, he went out to the garage and told Dad first. Joey said Dad cried. He didn’t cry because he didn’t want him to go. He cried because he was looking at a man, a man who was prepared to make his own life decisions and deal with the consequences. They were proud of each other.”

“That’s got to be a good feeling,” Mike said, wishing he knew how either side of a loving father-son experience might feel.

“Joey was killed in Kuwait in ‘91 in a non-combat accident. Mom didn’t speak to Dad for almost a month. Finally, a friend of hers helped her get out her grief. She started to come to grips with Joey’s death and more so the fact that Dad and I were still there.

“Dad was a cop in Houston. He was an officer for twenty-eight years; made sergeant after eighteen years of beating the hot streets. His buddies had a hell of a time getting him to put in for the test. He didn’t want to leave the streets. He knew the streets of Houston like he knew our backyard. It was something he was very good at. I think he was fearful he couldn’t be as good at something else.

“They convinced him he would still be out there, but instead of trying to do it all himself, he would be supporting and training new officers to learn what he had learned. He was hard-headed, but he knew they were right.”

Mike smiled at Cris and said, “Cop commitment.”

“Yep. He’s my role model. When I was born, he wanted another boy. He had already picked out his son’s name, Christopher like my mom’s father. But then I popped out. Uh oh, change of plans. What about Cris?” She laughed. “My Mom said he got used to the fact they had a little girl real fast.”

“When I signed up for the academy without talking to him first, he got pissed. We argued for weeks before I started. I knew why he had a problem with it; he was worried about me and worried about whether I would be there for Mom when he was gone. If anything happened to him, I would be all she had left.

“I promised him I would be careful, and I would be there to take care of Mom no matter what. He gave in a little, remembering I was as bull-headed as he was. He could tell I was determined, and I think that actually gave him a sense of pride to go along with his worry. He told me, ‘If you have to do this, be the best you can be.’ I reminded him that’s the way I was raised.”

Cris paused and ran her finger across the corner of her eye. “When I graduated second in my class, he cried. So did I.”

Cris sat without talking for a few minutes. Mike knew she wasn’t finished.

“When they found the tumor, I was in my second year as a detective. He began to have some serious headaches, and he occasionally missed work. He never missed work.

“He called me. He asked me to confirm I would take care of Mom and myself. He was scared. He never wanted his little Cris to be a cop.”

“Did he ...?” Mike stopped.

“No. He’s still here; well he’s still in Houston. He’s retired. They operated and said they got it all, but we still wonder. He has these— moments, but we still have him, and he still worries about me.