“Well, it’s true,” Mom said in my direction. “He’s a dullard and not good enough for Lorraine. I’ve always thought so. I don’t know when I’ve met a more boring individual.”
A muffled snicker came from the back seat. “That’s rich. He told me I was boring.” Lorraine shifted back toward the front. “Elliot said I was unfocused and unexciting. He said he wanted someone with more ambition and a sense of adventure.” She sniffed back tears. “He left me for a podiatrist.”
Mom and I exchanged surprised looks before I shifted my eyes back to the road. “A podiatrist is exciting?” I asked.
“Compared to me,” Lorraine said, “one is.”
I thought about the last few days and how Lorraine had shifted between kick-ass and a wilting flower almost from moment to moment. “Lorraine, did you climb into Shankleman’s house to prove you were adventurous?”
Not a peep came from the back seat.
“I encouraged her,” Mom said.
“No, Mom,” I clarified, “you gave her the idea and you could have stopped her, but it was her decision. Same as tackling Titan West in his office like a linebacker.”
Mom snapped her head around to the back. “You did that and I missed it?” Lorraine didn’t answer but went back to sulking.
The GPS said we were almost on top of the road for the turnoff. The side of the road was heavy with trees, and I didn’t want to miss it. Fortunately, there was no one behind me.
“Up ahead looks like an opening,” Mom said, pointing to the right. In the back, Lorraine righted herself and looked out the window.
Mom was right. Cut out of the tree line was a narrow packed dirt road. I turned onto it and slowly made my way forward, careful in case there were any potholes waiting to devour my car. The road was so narrow, occasionally tree branches dragged along the roof and side of my car. We’d driven down the road for about a mile when it branched out into a clearing with a cabin made of logs and a couple of small outbuildings that looked like small garages.
From inside the cabin we heard the high-pitched yip of a small dog, then it went silent. A man came out of the house and stood on the rough-planked porch. I didn’t know him, but he waved and stepped down off the porch. He was toting a high-powered rifle.
“Oh god,” came a moan from the back seat. “We’re gonna die.”
“Oh, relax,” Mom snapped. “If he’s Willie’s friend, then he’s on our side.”
I glanced over at the cabin, surprised not to see Willie or Buzz anywhere. But I did see a dark face peeking out from behind a thin curtain. Something was said to the guy with the gun, and he nodded. I nudged my mother and pointed in the direction of the window. Without any hesitation, she climbed out of the car. Seconds later Art Franklin bounded out of the cabin and wrapped his sturdy arms around my mother in a bear hug. I didn’t see Boaz Shankleman anywhere as Lorraine and I got out of my car.
“Grace, it’s so good to see you,” Art said, his voice nearly cracking with delight. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t contact you and let you know what was going on, but it all happened so fast.”
“That’s all fine and good,” Mom said, breaking the embrace, “but Shelita is worried sick.”
“I did call my daughter, Grace, on the way here.”
“And what did you tell her?” I asked, approaching them. He greeted both Lorraine and me warmly.
He rubbed his chin. On it was a couple of day’s growth that gave off the sound of fine-grade sandpaper as he ran his fingers over it. “As much as I didn’t want to lie to my daughter, I felt the circumstances called for it. I told her I’d driven up to Santa Barbara and was going to stay a couple of days, but had dropped my phone and broke it, which is the truth.”
“Folks,” said the guy with the gun, “we should get inside.”
“You must be Charlie, Willie’s friend,” I said to the armed man, who looked in his fifties and straight off of a secret military mission behind enemy lines. In response he blinked at me.
“Where’s Willie?” Mom asked.
“He’ll be here directly, ma’am.”
Yep. No doubt in my mind that the guy was ex-military.
The inside of the cabin was sparsely decorated. There was a nice-size living room with a fireplace, a kitchenette, and a woodburning stove. The floors were of scarred wood, and the furniture was mismatched and well-worn. A long table was pushed against one wall and on it rested various pieces of computer equipment. Off to the other side a door led to a room that looked like it contained a bed. I had no idea where the bathroom was and hoped that, should I need it, it wasn’t outside.
In a chair by the unlit stove sat a man holding a little dog—a taco terrier I recognized from the photos. The animal growled a warning, but the man shushed it. “It’s okay, Ringo. They’re friends.” He got up and faced us, and I immediately recognized Bo Shank of Acid Storm. He looked road weary, and his eyes and cheeks were hollow. I didn’t know if he always looked that way or if the past few days had taken a toll on him. When he saw Mom, a small smile broke across his weathered countenance.
“Grace,” he said in a tired voice, “I can’t believe you found us, but I really shouldn’t be surprised.” He and Mom exchanged embraces, and Mom patted Ringo.
“Boaz, this is my daughter, Odelia, and my granddaughter Lorraine,” Mom told him, pointing to each of us in turn. He politely shook hands with us, and I had a private, silent fangirl moment.
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Charlie was concentrating on looking out the window.
“Lorraine was the one who found that dead body in your house,” Mom told Shankleman.
Shankleman studied Lorraine with sad, droopy eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that,” he told her. “It was an awful sight. Poor Cyd.” He dropped back down into the chair and lowered his head, burying his face in the small dog’s neck.
I approached him. “I have to ask, Boaz. Did you kill Cydney Fox?” I knew he could open-face lie to me but didn’t think he would. Everyone, even Charlie, waited, eyes on him, to hear his reply.
“Odelia,” Mom said with shock, “shame on you.”
Shankleman lifted his head. “No, Grace, she has every right to ask that question. You all do, since you’re involved.” He turned and looked at me, his eyes wet. “No, Odelia, I did not kill Cydney Fox. I came home the other night and found her like that. That’s when I asked Art to help me. I knew I had to get out of there as fast as possible. Whoever killed Cyd was probably looking for me and might come back, and the police would definitely try to pin it on me if I stayed.”
“Where have you been for the past few weeks?” I asked. “Did you know before Oxman and Tuttle that the gang was after Titan and probably you guys?”
He shook his head slowly. “Like I said on the phone earlier, I just found out about that myself. I’ve been on a road trip trying to line up new gigs. It’s been quiet for bookings because of changing from Titan, so I decided to make the rounds of various casinos to shake some hands and grease the way for Cyd. I also met with a few promoters who have worked with us in the past to let them know that Acid Storm is ready to work with them without Titan.” He put Ringo down on the floor and stretched out his long legs. The dog made a beeline for us and started sniffing first my legs, then Lorraine’s. New people, new scents to learn.
“When I found out about that damn gang,” Shankleman continued, “I decided the best place for me was to remain out on the road. The only reason I came back was to grab more clothes and more of Ringo’s medicine. He has a small heart problem.”
At the news we all turned and looked at the little animal, who was now on his hind legs, begging Mom to pick him up, which she did and moved to a chair to hold him on her lap. Lorraine and I put ourselves down on two other hard, straight-backed chairs. Charlie went back to his vigil at the window.
“If you had your car, why did you call Art and get h
im involved?” I asked.
“I didn’t have it at Seaside,” Boaz explained, “because I was worried about the gang spotting me. I left it in a strip mall parking lot about two blocks away. Left Ringo there too. Then I slipped into Seaside and made my way to my place. The plan was to grab some stuff, more of Ringo’s medicine, and slip back out, go to my car, and take off.”
“But didn’t you warn Cydney about the danger?” Lorraine asked.
“Sure I did,” Shankleman said. “I left her several voicemails as soon as I found out, but I’m not sure she got them. She might have been…gone…by then.”
“Why was she at your place with you not there?” I asked.
“With Titan out of the picture as our manager, we were running Acid Storm out of my second bedroom. Cyd was at my place a lot. Sometimes we’d work late into the night and she’d stay over. We were working hard to rebuild the band’s contacts and business.”
“Then why didn’t she go on the road trip with you?” Mom asked as she cuddled Ringo.
“I asked her to,” Shankleman explained, “but she thought we’d be better off splitting our efforts—me on the road doing meet and greets and her working the phones. And she was right. Between us we lined up two gigs, with promises of possibly more down the road, and not just these summer fairs that Titan got us.”
“So you weren’t seeing the Fox woman romantically?” Mom asked.
Shankleman shook his head and offered up a sad smile. “Cyd and I go way back. She’s more like a kid sister to me.” He got up and walked the width of the room twice while running a hand through his hair. “Cyd and I only pretended to see each other for Mona’s benefit.”
“Mona D’Angelo, the manager of Seaside?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We didn’t want Mona finding out we were running the band’s bookings out of my home. There are strict rules against home-based businesses at that place, and Mona can be a real bitch when it comes to rules.” All of us, except for Charlie, quickly nodded in agreement.
“Also,” Shankleman continued, “because Mona was really coming on to me. She had been for a long time, but in the past few months she’d amped it up for some reason, in spite of me not giving any encouragement. We thought holding Cyd out as my girlfriend would put Mona’s brakes on a bit. You know, like maybe she’d go bother someone else and wouldn’t catch on that we were working out of my home.”
Shankleman’s shoulders drooped and his face dropped toward the floor. “Cyd was there working when they came for me. It should have been me on that floor, not her.” The words came out strangled and tight. Sensing his master’s distress, Ringo jumped down from Mom’s lap and went over to give comfort. Shankleman picked up the dog and held him close to his chest.
The room grew silent, the only sounds coming from the chattering of birds and a slight breeze in the trees outside. We sat on our hard chairs with Charlie keeping watch at the window and gave Shankleman his space for several minutes.
“Like we said on the phone,” I said, breaking the silence, “we don’t think it was the Armenian gang that killed Cydney.”
Slowly Shankleman turned my way. “I know you said that before, but if not them, then who?”
I shrugged. “We’re not sure. One theory is that Fox was the target, not the band, and whoever killed her used Titan’s murder to deflect the investigation.”
“I saw a light on in your house the night of the murder,” Mom said. “Although at the time I didn’t know there was a murder happening or going to happen. We wondered if maybe Mona saw it too and went to investigate, knowing you were gone, found Cydney there, and killed her in a jealous rage.”
Shankleman’s eyes popped wide like he’d been squeezed. “Mona is a really odd duck, but murder? Over me?” He shook his head. “I can’t see it.”
“I can,” Mom said sharply. “And with that goofball uncle of hers manning the front gate, he’d probably cover for her if he knew or suspected anything.”
“There’s another odd one,” Shankleman said. “Something’s off about him that I can’t quite shake or put my finger on. I guess it runs in the family.”
I cut my eyes to Mom, then Lorraine. Mom caught my drift and stuck her tongue out at me, quickly, like a lizard. The reference to oddity running in a family went right over Lorraine’s head. Give her time and she’d catch on. I glanced at Art. He hadn’t missed it at all and was pressing his lips together to keep from chuckling.
“There’s another theory,” I said, getting back on track, “that whoever did this is someone from the band’s past and is taking you all out, including Cydney, for what happened years ago.”
“That’s absurd,” Shankleman said. He started pacing again, carrying the dog with him. “That was decades ago. People barely remember it, if they remember it at all.”
“Some people carry grudges forever, Boaz,” Mom pointed out. “Mona wasn’t by chance one of your groupies back then, was she? Or maybe one of the young women hurt by your friend Kurt?”
“Girls came and went more often than buses back then,” Shankleman said. “Cyd was one of the few that made a real connection with any of us.”
“She was with Oxman before Spencer-Hall, right?” I asked.
“She was never really with Kurt,” he answered, “except for a short fling. She and Dave were having problems. He was partying a lot and cheating on her, and she got back at him with Kurt. Who knew it would blow up into something that would take us all down.”
“How did Oxman feel about Fox coming back into your lives?” I asked, remembering how nonchalant the burnout had seemed.
“He seemed okay with it,” Shankleman said. “Not jumping for joy, but okay.”
“Do you think he might have killed Cydney?” Mom asked.
Shankleman let out a short, sad laugh. “Not Dave. The only thing he expends energy on these days is his music and getting high. In fact, he’s a brilliant musician when he’s high.”
“And Simon? How did he feel about Cydney?” I asked. “He wasn’t around back in the day, but he can’t have been happy about losing some of those gigs.”
“He wasn’t,” Shankleman admitted, “but he has a lot going on elsewhere and a good head on his shoulders. He was with us for the experience. He told me up front that if we couldn’t turn it around without Titan, he’d be gone at the end of the year.”
“Did you know that he and Oxman were collaborating together on the side?” I asked, remembering what Oxman had told me.
“Yeah, I did.” Shankleman put the dog down. Ringo went immediately to Art, who picked him up and started petting him. The animal was a real cuddle hound. “Dave didn’t say anything,” Shankleman continued, “but Simon did. He liked being upfront on stuff like that. Like I said, Dave’s brilliant and has a great ear. Simon was learning a lot from him.”
“My money is still on someone from the old days doing this,” Mom said.
I nodded in agreement. “Our friend Willie thinks whoever did this alerted the gang that the police were about to crawl all over the band for some reason, which triggered the hit on Titan. Maybe this person is playing with you guys. He also could have given Titan a heads-up about the gang because he was playing with you—getting his kicks out of watching you all run around scared.”
“The murder,” came a voice from the corner by the window. We all turned. It was Charlie. “The murder was probably what triggered the police investigation,” he said, still keeping his eyes on the outside. “The murder was premeditated.”
“The murder looked like a crime of passion,” I said to him.
“Maybe, but it was probably still planned,” Charlie explained, glancing around at us. “From what Willie told me and from what I’m hearing here, my guess is that the killer planned on killing someone—maybe the woman, maybe Boaz. But he could have intended the murder to put the spotlight on the band and that Tita
n fellow. That would have triggered a panic on the part of the Armenians, and they would have to take Titan out to protect their business, which would cause the rest of you to panic.”
He jerked his chin in my direction. “Whoever did this is cold and calculating, especially if he’s the one who alerted both the gang and Titan. The lady’s right. He’s still around, watching it all, playing you for shits and giggles.”
twenty-three
“Is that why you’re keeping watch?” I asked Charlie, sidling up to him. “Because you think the killer might show up here?”
“I always keep watch. We all should, all the time,” Charlie answered. “Life’s unpredictable. Best be ready for it.” He cut his eyes to me. “So you’re Clark’s crazy sister, and that’s his crazy mother?” He jerked his head in Mom’s direction. His words were flat, but his eyes danced with amusement.
“You know my brother?” I asked, ignoring the “crazy” comment. Before I got the words out, I knew the answer. If Charlie and Clark both worked for Willie in security, there was a very good chance they knew each other. But it did make me wonder if Clark ever did guard duty like this.
“Clark’s a good man,” Charlie answered. “I like working with him. He’s smart and thorough.” His attention returned to the outside.
My mind took another leap to a different question. “You don’t happen to know my husband, do you?” When Charlie didn’t answer, I added, “Come on, tell me—for shits and giggles.”
Without looking at me, Charlie said, “Another good man.”
I definitely needed to pump Greg for information about his relationship with Willie away from me when he got home.
Ringo was squirming to get down from Art’s arms. He put the dog on the floor and the animal made a beeline for the door and made little whining noises. “He needs to go out,” Shankleman said. He picked up a leash that was draped over a chair and fastened it to the dog’s collar. The dog did a happy dance similar to Wainwright’s when he saw his leash.
“He’s not the only one who needs to tinkle,” Mom said.
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