Death Sung Softly (7 page)

As noon approached, Indie made them a lunch of tuna salad. Samson got part of Kenzie's sandwich, which she dropped under the table to him, but Sam and Indie pretended not to notice.

Kenzie didn't want to go to rehearsal that afternoon, preferring to stay and play with Samson (“That's my job, remember?” she asked them), so Indie stayed home with her as Sam got on the bike and rode off to Stan's house. Sam was glad they stayed home. He had a number of questions to ask the band when he got there, and he wasn't sure how some of them were going to go over.

He parked the bike in the driveway, and walked into the open garage. Only Candy and Janice were there at the moment, and he smiled as he said hello.

“Janice,” he said, “could I talk to you privately for a moment?”

Candy got up and said, “Hey, I gotta go to the little girls' room, anyway, and I'll see what the guys are up to. Back in five.” She walked into the house, leaving Sam and Jannice alone in the garage.

“What's up?” Janice asked.

“Does the band know you and Barry got married?” Sam asked her softly.

Tears instantly fell down her cheeks as she shook her head in the negative. “No. He said we needed to keep it a secret for now. I wanted to tell them all, but he said Chris would get nervous if he knew, so we didn't tell anyone. That's why I said he was like a big brother.” She laughed and wiped tears away. “It was so lame, pretending we were just friends, but a lot of people thought I was bad news for him, cause of my problems, y'know? But he loved me, and I loved him, so we went and got married secretly. We were gonna tell them pretty soon, just not yet.”

“And you were in favor of the two of you getting his daughter from his sister?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Wow, you found out about that? Yeah, he told me about her, and said if he was married, he could get his sister to let him have her back, but when he told her we'd got hitched, she freaked out and started yelling. Said he'd never be able to support a child, and she wasn't gonna let the kid grow up with a druggie stepmom. It was a big fight, and I felt like it was all my fault, so Barry wanted to take her to court and force it. I guess that's how you found out?”

Sam nodded. “The court filing is public record, so it turned up when I had a computer search done. If you want to keep it all a secret, I'll keep my mouth shut, but that's up to you.”

She looked down at the concrete floor. “I was gonna tell all of you today. His funeral is Monday, and there's no way I'd be there and pretend I wasn't his wife, y'know?”

Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “I can understand that. I'll try to help keep everyone calm about it. Do you know the story behind Barry's daughter?”

She shrugged. “With Barry, you only know what he tells you. He said she came from an old girlfriend in his senior year in high school, and his sister adopted her since he wasn't makin' much money, driving pizzas around.”

Sam nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I'll let you bring it up when you’re ready.”

Candy and the two men came out a couple of minutes later with cans of pop, and Sam asked them all to sit down while he explained about Samantha Harris and how Barry had gone to talk to her the day he vanished. He told them that Barry had apparently called Jimmy Smith from her phone, saying he would not leave the band, and then told them about the voicemail message that seemed to be from Jimmy, and the envelope and its contents.

Janice started crying at that point, and Sam stopped talking. He looked at her, and she nodded.

“Listen, guys,” she said, “there's something I gotta tell you.” She went through it all, then, how Barry had told her he loved her, that he wanted to get his daughter back and that being married would make it more likely his sister would agree, but that they shouldn't tell the band just yet. “I guess it doesn't matter now,” she said, “but I just wanted you all to know before the funeral.”

Chris and Stan both looked at her, their faces calm. Chris said, “I knew he loved you, that was obvious, and I asked him once if you guys were gonna get married. I wish he'd told me, but it's too late to cry over that now.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah, I told him more than once he should keep you,” he said. “He never let on, but I'm glad you guys were together before...”

Candy just smiled and took Janice's hand. “You would have made him happy,” she said. “I'm glad you got to marry him, even if it was only for a little while.”

Sam told the band about the police investigation into Barry's death, and that the lead investigator was looking hard at Jimmy Smith. With the evidence of Samantha's phone message and her statement that Barry did call Jimmy from her phone to decline the contract, it was looking more and more like Jimmy may have killed him.

“Not all the facts are in, yet, though,” Sam said, “so we can't jump to any conclusions. Especially in something this serious, we have to be absolutely certain.”

“He did it,” Chris said. “I know, wait till all the evidence is in, but I've been on the receiving end of his temper before, and I'm bettin' on him! I think he did it, just cause Barry wasn't doing what he wanted.”

“I think he did it,” Stan said. “I've never dealt with him personally, but I know other people who have, and he's been pretty rough. He's certainly capable of it. If Barry really told him that day that he wasn't gonna sign, then I think Barry got him to meet up or something, and did him in.”

Sam nodded. “I tend to agree with you, both of you,” he said, “but unless we find some proof, there isn't a lot that can be done about it. What we've got now is only circumstantial evidence, unless they find his prints on the envelope with the hair in it, or they find more evidence when they search his place. If he really did have Barry's head there somewhere, most likely the CSI team will find some trace of it. That's what I'm counting on, physical evidence.”

Chris sighed. “Well, the sad part is that Barry's gone. I can't really believe we'll never hear him sing again, but it's true whether I like it or not.” He raised his can. “To Barry; Heaven's got a new voice singing up there today, and it's one that will outshine a lot of the angels!”

“To Barry,” they all echoed, raising their cans high.

Chris set his can down. “Now, let's make some music. We've got a gig to get ready for, with a brand new lead singer!”

Everyone agreed, even Janice, and they got up and started running through the songs Sam had learned the day before. He had them down pat, so they spent a couple hours on the next four songs, then went on to another four. The show on Saturday night would run four hours, from seven to eleven, with a few breaks interspersed in it, so they had another dozen songs to learn before they were ready.

They worked until after nine, and Chris said he was sure Sam would be more than ready by Saturday night. They had one more day to rehearse, and then would get together Saturday afternoon before the gig to go through the show one more time.

Friday morning came to Sam with a surprise, as Samson decided that the old man in the house had slept long enough. He got into Sam's room with some minor help from Kenzie, jumped up on the bed and started licking Sam's nose with his rough tongue. It only took a few licks before Sam brushed him away and then opened his eyes.

That was Kenzie's cue, and she giggled as she ran in and jumped up onto the bed with the both of them. Sam looked and saw Indie standing in the doorway, a big smile on her face.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or come get in on this?” Sam asked with a  grin.

Indie looked shocked for a second, then let out a laugh and ran across the room to jump onto the bed the way Kenzie had done. Sam caught her and pulled her close, then rounded up Kenzie and Samson for a group hug. Both of the girls got kisses, but Samson had to settle for having his head rubbed.

“Mmmm,” Indie said, “I could get used to this! Your bed is comfy!”

“Yeah? You should try it without kids and kitty-cats, it's even better.”

Indie looked him in the eye. “Maybe we'll find out, one of these days,” she said, and then slid off onto her feet. “But not right now, it's breakfast time. Come on, I've got you steak and eggs!”

“Yeah!” Kenzie said, and grabbed Samson to carry him off to the kitchen. Sam got up and followed, with a quick stop in the bathroom and to toss a t-shirt over the shorts he wore as PJ's.

They had breakfast together, and Kenzie made sure that Samson was included by slipping him bits of her own cut-up steak. This time Indie spoke up.

“Kenzie,” she said, “there's a reason why we bought cat food! Stop feeding Samson your breakfast!”

“But he likes it,” Kenzie said innocently.

“I know he does, but he's a kitty, not a people, and he's supposed to eat cat food! People food is for people, cat food is for kitties. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kenzie said resignedly. “Sorry, Samson, I'll get you your breakfast in a minute.” She resumed eating her own.

When breakfast was over, Sam sat at the table and called Karen Parks, the homicide detective.

“Karen, it's Sam,” he said when she answered. “Anything new?”

“Actually,” she said, “we just got a search warrant for Jimmy Smith's home and offices. I've got two teams going out this morning to hit them both at once. Still don't have anything more, but the hairs you brought in had a bit of scalp still attached, and the blood type matches Wallace. We checked the voicemail message on Ms. Harris's phone, and it was from Smith, so the coincidence of him leaving that message and her getting the envelope in the mail gave us enough to convince the judge we should look closer at him. I'll let you know if we find anything.”

“Thanks, Karen, I appreciate it!” He hung up and then called KUSA, the TV station whose news program had first run the announcement of Barry's murder. It took a few minutes, but he finally got to speak to the reporter who'd interviewed Barry's sister.

“I'm just curious,” Sam said, “why no one from any news agency has contacted his band about his death.”

“That's an easy one,” the woman said. “We're a news agency, not a public relations outfit. We were looking for a sympathetic interview, not one that would have people flocking out to see those guys perform. If they want publicity, they can buy ads like everyone else.”

“And it never occurred to you that they might have something significant to say? That Barry Wallace's loss will be felt by many more people than just his family?”

“Look, man,” she answered, “I just do the news. We did our part, telling people the guy was murdered, and then we get the family to make a statement; that's how it works. If we brought in his band and talked to them, it'd take away from the story by making people think about those poor musicians, boo-hoo, and they'd become stars by playing off the guy's death. That's not news, that's marketing, and it's not what we do.”

Sam thought about it, and conceded that she had a point. He thanked her and hung up.

He couldn't think of anything else to do regarding the investigation at the moment, so he sat in his recliner and watched TV with Kenzie for a while, as Indie went about cleaning up the house. He could hear her loading the dishwasher in the kitchen and starting it, and then he heard the vacuum cleaner running in his room. A smile crossed his face as he realized that hearing someone cleaning the house was an awfully comforting set of sounds. It made the house feel a lot more like a home.

Kenzie was engrossed in Sponge Bob cartoons, so Sam got up and went to his bedroom door. He stood there for a moment, watching as Indie ran the vac, then started making the bed. She hadn't noticed him standing there, so when she went to the opposite side to straighten the covers, she jumped when she finally did.

“You startled me,” she said. “I didn't know you were there.”

Sam grinned at her. “I just wanted to watch you being little miss domestic for a minute. Want me to help with that?”

“No,” she said as she tucked his pillows into place. “I've got it. I like cleaning this house, and I like looking up and seeing you watching me. Makes me feel like I'm doing this for more than just a job, lately.”

“Oh, I see. And does it make you feel like some guy is getting himself an eyeful of your gorgeous little body? Cause I am, you know.” He smiled, and got one in return.

“Maybe,” she said, “but when I do feel like that, it isn't a bad feeling. Not as long as it's you.”

She finished up the bed and came toward him, but he didn't move out of her way. “Indie,” he said, “I'm not really in practice at this whole 'family man' thing. If I miss something, or if there's something you want me to do, you'll need to let me know. You won't hurt my feelings, I promise.”

She stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “You're doing an awfully good job so far,” she said. “Half the time, I don't think like I used to, y'know, 'me and Kenzie,' but I think about 'me and Kenzie and Sam,' instead. I think about next week, and the first thing I think about is what you want for dinner, rather than what Kenzie and I can hope to afford.” She smiled up at him. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, you've got me thinking like a woman, not like a housekeeper, and it feels good to do that again.”

He moved and let her out of the room, then followed her as she straightened the dining room. They used it mostly as their computer station, but it still became a mess of piled papers at times, and she liked to keep everything organized. Sam watched as she put each one into a file folder and labeled it properly, once again just enjoying the thought of having her there.

The morning went by, and once she'd finished cleaning up, Indie went to the kitchen and dug out a crock pot Sam had bought back when he was married, and probably hadn't seen since, then set it up to make a roast for dinner. She knew Sam would be at rehearsal until late, so she planned on a late dinner, and that allowed plenty of time for the roast to cook.

Thinking of rehearsal reminded her that Sam would be playing his first show the following night, and she called Anita Mitchell to arrange for Kenzie to spend the night there. Kenzie heard her and wanted to know if she could take Samson along, and Anita said that would be fine; they had a cat of their own, so it wouldn't be a problem.

At just before noon, Sam's phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Sam, it's Karen. I thought you'd like to know that a cadaver dog found Barry Wallace's head and hands buried on Jimmy Smith's property. It was in a shallow grave, looks like he was hiding it in a hurry, and we found a spot that scalp piece was cut from. The head looks like it was damn near split in half with an ax, and we're betting that'll be the cause of death. We've taken him into custody, but of course, he's screaming that he was framed.”

“Don't they always?” Sam asked. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Indie was sitting beside him on the couch, and he turned to her. “That was Karen. They found Barry's head and hands buried in Jimmy Smith's yard, she said it looks like he was trying to just hide them fast and didn't do a very good job of it. One of the sniffer dogs found them. They arrested him for murder.”

“Well, at least they caught him, and he didn't get away with it. That means the investigation is over, then?”

“Yep, I'd say so. I'm gonna call Chris and the others, let them know.” He dialed Chris's number and it was answered on the second ring. “Chris, it's Sam. They found Barry's head and hands on Jimmy Smith's place, and he's been arrested for the murder. You wanna tell the others, or would you like me to do it?”

Chris sighed into the phone. “We're all here, man,” he said. “We got together this morning to go over a new song we want to teach you this afternoon, wanted to have it down before we hit you with it, you know? I'll tell 'em. We'll see you at two, right?”

“I'll be there,” Sam said, and ended the call. “The rest are with him, so he's telling them now.”

Indie sighed. “I feel sorry for Janice. She's a sweet girl, and the life she's had has been a rough one. This is just one more tragedy for her.”

“Sometimes that's how it goes. No idea why, but some people just have the worst possible luck.”

Sam turned the TV to the news while Indie got up to make them some lunch. He watched as the announcer told how Jimmy Smith, the talent agent, had been arrested in connection with the murder of local rock singer Barry Wallace. There was actual footage of the arrest, with Smith being cuffed right in front of his house and shoved into a police car, while shouting that he was innocent and had been framed.

Sam felt a let down settle onto him. He'd been hired to find Barry, which he'd done by helping the ME identify the body, but then he was hired to find Barry's killer. He'd certainly been instrumental in helping to do so, but he felt that the police would have caught Smith even without his help. Surely, Samantha Harris would have gone to the police with what she had, sooner or later, and it still would have led to Smith.

Something was bothering him, though, down deep inside. He went over it all in his mind, thinking through all that had happened, but he couldn't find any other logical explanation than that Smith had killed Barry for not taking the record deal that would have made them both a lot of money.

Indie came in and sat back down with him. “Lunch'll be ready in twenty minutes,” she said. “I'm making pizza.”

Sam kissed her cheek. “Sounds good, Babe,” he said.

“Mmm, I like when you call me that,” Indie said with a grin, so he kissed her again.

“Me, too,” he said. “I was just sitting here thinking that we're out of work, with the case closed. We got one call out of that ad the very first night it ran, I'd have thought there would be more interest.”

“We've had a few more calls,” Indie said, “but they were the usual kind, about tracking somebody's wife or husband, so I said you were busy at the moment. I got all their numbers, if you want to get back to them and take the jobs.”

Sam chuckled. “No, that's okay. We don't need the money, I just like being able to work, but I wouldn't want to do that kind of work. You keep telling those kind of callers no.”

She smiled and settled herself against him. “So now you're just a rock singer?”

“For now,” he said. “I don't know that I really want to do this long term, but it could be fun for a bit.”

“And what if some big record label decides you're the next big thing? Would you turn it down?”

Sam thought for a moment, and then nodded his head. “I think I would. I don't think I'm cut out for a life of fame and fortune, Indie. I think I prefer my life pretty much the way it is now, and trying to be some famous rocker would interfere with that. I mean, do you think we'd make it if I was on the road two hundred days a year?”

Indie snuggled in tighter. “I don't want to try. I like this, Sam, I like it a lot; I like being here with you and Kenzie, and I like how much she adores you. I love the way you've taken to her, too. She's needed a man in her life.” She turned and looked up at him. “And so have I.” She tilted her head back, asking for a kiss, and she got it.

They watched more of the news until the timer went off on the oven, then moved to the kitchen table for lunch. Indie got out the pizza, and Sam cut it up for them, then they called Kenzie in from where she'd been playing in the back yard with Samson. The fence around the yard was secure enough to keep the cat in, so they didn't mind her taking him out to play.

When lunch was over, Sam got ready to go to rehearsal. Since Kenzie would be spending all Saturday night with the Mitchells, she wanted to stay home with her daughter that night, and Sam kissed them both goodbye as he walked out the door. The sky was overcast, so he decided to take the van, rather than the bike, and drove away after honking the horn at the two of them, standing on the porch and waving goodbye.

The band was ready when he got there, and by the time six o'clock came around, Sam knew enough of their songs to get through the gig. Chris asked Sam to teach them one of his songs, so they could add it into the show, and he thought about it for a minute.

“Most of my stuff isn't really rock,” he said, “more like country, or country rock. I've got an idea for a pure rock song I want to do, though, and I've got the lyrics and a basic melody all worked out in my head; think you guys could help me get the music done tonight? It—it's sort of a surprise for Indie, so I don’t want her to hear it until we're on stage.”