by S. W. Lauden
Junior made the introductions.
“This is Lindsay and Shauna. They’re from the PR firm working with your label.”
Lindsay stepped forward until she was right under Greg’s chin.
“You’re actually taller than you look on stage. We loved your set, by the way. So hardcore.”
“Uh, thanks. That’s kind of our thing.”
She released a high-pitched giggle, slapping at his chest. Her small hand practically suctioned to his sweat-soaked shirt before she pulled it free. Greg motioned to the dressing room before walking way.
“Nice meeting you guys. I really have to change.”
“Go do your thing. We look forward to working with you.”
The two girls waved in unison as Junior escorted him away.
“Get your stuff together. I’ll meet you back over at the bar when you’re ready.”
“Like old times, huh?”
Junior winked and spun off. Greg watched her push a few stragglers toward the exit as she made her way across the mostly empty room. His high school girlfriend had somehow become the only constant in his life.
The door to the storage closet was already open a crack when Greg grabbed the knob. He pushed it inward, groping at the wall for the lights. His backpack was right where he left it, but something dangled above it now. It took him a second to make sense of the limp body hanging from the rafters.
A rope was around his neck; sign taped to his chest: “I am Tim.”
Chapter 2
The Bay Cities police didn’t let Greg leave Eddie’s until almost three in the morning. He was exhausted when he finally got home, but couldn’t sleep after what he’d seen. Visions of the lifeless body filled his mind whenever he closed his eyes. His stomach dropped when he pictured the sign around the victim’s neck.
Greg was so lost in his sleep-deprived haze that he almost forgot Marco was there, until he heard his voice.
“You doing okay, bro?”
“What? Yeah. Finding that kid at the club last night screwed with my head.”
“Go easy on yourself. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“I think I’m through saving people, Marco. But why couldn’t somebody else find the body for a change?”
Greg was thankful that his friend didn’t respond. He just wanted to put the whole thing behind him and move on with his life. Changing the subject was a good place to start.
“Hope you’re ready for a busy day.”
He and Marco planned to stop by the SUP Sober meeting down at the beach before getting back to work. There was still a lot of planning to do for the BCC tour, along with a few loose ends to tie up from their last case. The business partnership was still new, but seemed to be working out so far—even if they didn’t agree on everything.
“Dude. I thought of a name for our PI firm. Came to me on stage last night.”
“We already have a name.”
“I know, I know. But check it out.”
Marco flung his hands out, as if lighting the words up in neon when he spoke.
“Bad. Citizen. Investigations.”
Greg groaned from where he stood at the stove.
“Let’s stick with Salem and Associates.”
“Why the hell do I always have to be associates?”
“Because I’m the one with the PI license.”
Marco mumbled something under his breath as Greg shoveled bacon and eggs onto two plates.
“Holy shit. With all the insanity, I forgot to tell you we got a new job. Dude called me last night before the gig.”
Greg slammed a plate down in front of Marco.
“Are you crazy? We’re leaving on tour in a few days. We don’t have time to take on a new case.”
“It’s a one-night stakeout. We take some pictures and—boom—we’re out. Be nice to have some cash in the bank when we get back from playing those shows.”
“This isn’t going to be that kind of tour, Marco. We’re getting pretty big guarantees from the venues, plus whatever money we make off of T-shirts. Call him back and say we can’t do it.”
Marco tore a fatty piece of bacon with his teeth, swigging coffee.
“Fine. I’ll do it without you.”
“Again. I’m the one with the license. You don’t have to worry about money.”
“No such thing as enough money, bro. Not when you’re my age and don’t have shit in your savings account.”
Somebody knocked on the front door. The noise woke Kristen and the baby up. Both of them immediately started screaming from the bedroom.
Marco almost fell out of his seat at the sudden flurry of activity. He’d been a little jumpy since being held captive by a violent cult leader the previous year at Grizzly Flats. The scars all over his body were fading, but the trauma was still right below the surface.
“The fuck is going on around here? It’s like a war zone.”
“I’ll give you three guesses.”
Greg got up and walked over to the front window, sliding the curtains back to peek outside. Bay Cities Police Chief Robert Stanley stood there looking half asleep with a uniformed cop at his side. He was short and stocky, with a sharp jawline and a military buzz cut the color of driftwood. Freckles covered almost every inch of his tanned face and arms, as if he’d spent his whole life walking a beat.
They spotted Greg and motioned to the door in unison. He reached for the knob, pulling it open a few inches.
“Love your costume, but Halloween isn’t for a few months.”
The Police Chief forced a smile. Greg’s old nemesis had dark circles under his eyes.
“Good morning, Mr. Salem. Mind if we come in?”
“I do, but I’m not sure it would stop you.”
Greg swung the door open. Officer Bob immediately went for the kitchen table where Marco sat with his arms folded.
“Oh, good. You’re both here. That’ll make things easier.”
Officer Bob poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat. His partner stayed put just inside the door, casing the house with a skeptical look.
“Nice place. You buy it with all the money from the book that guy wrote about you?”
He motioned to the living room with a stiff nod. Greg glanced at the book on the coffee table. The one that set the BCC reunion in motion. A book called Among the Grizzlies that spent a few weeks on The New York Times bestseller list and featured several chapters about a certain punk singer turned disgraced police officer named Greg Salem. The author was his friend, Tommy Thompson, who had written a personalized inscription on the first page thanking Greg for “the story of a lifetime.” That’s as far as Greg had gotten in the book responsible for changing his life.
Greg dodged the question with one of his own.
“Who’s your nosy friend, Officer Bob?”
“Sorry. Greg Salem, meet Detective Bowers. He recently joined us from Hollywood.”
Marco coughed loudly into his fist. Officer Bob took the hint.
“And this is Mr. Salem’s friend—”
“Associate.”
“Sorry. This is Mr. Salem’s associate, Marco Johnson. Are you still living out in the garage?”
“Hell no, we use that as an office now. JJ and I got a sick condo up in North Bay, right up the street from Eddie’s. Fucking Jacuzzi on the roof and everything.”
Greg and Detective Bowers came over to the table to sit down. Officer Bob quickly moved on from the small talk.
“Funny you should mention Eddie’s…”
Greg leaned back in his chair.
“No shit. I thought you two were here for my world-famous pancakes.”
It looked like Detective Bowers was about to smack the smile from Greg’s face. Officer Bob stepped in before things could escalate.
“Take it easy, B
owers. This is a little dance we do. It’s been like this since I taught him how to throw a curve ball in Little League. Isn’t that right, Mr. Salem?”
“Almost blew my arm out when I was nine. Coach of the year.”
Officer Bob escaped into his head for a minute. There was definitely something off about him, but Greg couldn’t put his finger on it. His voice was raspier than usual, for one thing.
“I read the statement you gave my officers last night. I was wondering if you had anything to add, now that you’ve had some time to think it over?”
Visions of the dead body dangling from the ceiling flooded Greg’s mind again. The kid looked to be in his early twenties, and dressed like any other skate punk from The Bay Cities with low-top sneakers, jeans, and a flannel shirt. He reminded Greg of a million guys from the beach he’d known over the years. Hell, I probably went to high school with his father.
The victim also made him think of Chris, who had tried to hang himself while in rehab the previous year. And Greg’s brother, Tim, of course, thanks to the note. They found him in the same position next door to Eddie’s almost twenty years before. It was his brother’s punk rock record shop back then, but Junior’s salon was the current tenant.
Greg tried to shake the unwanted memories from his head.
“I told you everything I know. I was the one who found the body, but I’ve never seen him before. Were you guys able to make an ID?”
“Let us ask the questions. Tell us about the note.”
Greg sensed Officer Bob was uncomfortable bringing it up. He was the one who’d ruled Tim’s death a suicide all those years ago. Greg was still convinced his brother had been murdered.
“Don’t tell me you’re calling this a suicide, too?”
Officer Bob said nothing in response, so Detective Bowers jumped in.
“We’ll make that determination once we have all the facts straight.”
“Your ‘facts’ will prove this is a suicide if that’s what you’re searching for.”
Detective Bowers slammed his hand down on the table.
“Answer the questions and—!”
Marco silenced him with a loud “Shush.”
“Keep it down, the baby’s still asleep.”
Officer Bob gave an understanding nod. Detective Bowers immediately started in on Greg again, his voice a few decibels lower.
“I don’t care if that book made you famous, I don’t care that you grew up around here, and I sure as hell don’t give two shits that you used to be on the job. I want this case closed as soon as possible, so you better start answering our questions about the suicide.”
Greg jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor.
“Who the hell goes to a club to kill themself? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
The loud noise got the baby crying in the bedroom again. This time Kristen wandered in with their son in her arms. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
“This is quite a party. What’s going on in here?”
Marco got up to walk their unwanted guests out. Greg went over to calm Kristen down.
“I’ll explain later. Take the baby back in the bedroom. I’ll be there in a second.”
Her tired eyes darted around the room.
“Is this about what happened at the show last night?”
“Yes, but these two were just leaving.”
Officer Bob stood, motioning for Bowers to do the same.
“Sorry to get you out of bed.”
The four of them went out onto the porch while Kristen pacified the baby on the couch. Marco’s arms were down at his side, chest puffed out. The aggressive stance didn’t go unnoticed by Detective Bowers. Things were getting tense when Greg stepped between them.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend. He’s a little protective of my family. And he’s stressed out about our tour.”
Detective Bowers shook his head, bringing his hands up to rest on his hips. His eyes went straight up to Greg’s burgundy hair.
“Aren’t you two a little old to be playing in a punk band?”
Marco snorted.
“Aren’t you a little short to play the bad cop?”
Officer Bob nodded goodbye, leading his partner away. Greg watched them go, already disgusted by all the mistakes those two would make in this investigation. He kicked at the weeds poking up through the cracks in the sidewalk, waiting for them to drive off.
Marco was right at his side.
“What’s up, bro?”
Greg shook his head.
“What if they’re right?”
“About what?”
“About it being a suicide.”
h
It was already a beautiful day at the beach. Flags on top of the lifeguard stand danced in a light breeze as Greg and Marco schlepped their paddleboards across the cold morning sand. Eddie was waiting for them at the shoreline when they arrived. The old man was a lot thinner now that he stopped drinking, and a lot happier since retiring from the bar business.
“Where the hell have you two been? It’s getting late.”
Eddie motioned to the mostly flat ocean behind him. The rest of the SUP Sober crew was already in the middle of their twelve-step meeting a few hundred yards out to sea. Marco dropped his board into the water, pushing into the light surf. Greg stayed back to speak with Eddie.
“Sorry. We had an unexpected meeting with Officer Bob.”
Eddie squished his face into a look approximating concern.
“About last night?”
“I’m not sure what Junior told you, but I’m the one who found the body.”
“Sorry, Greg. You doing okay?”
“I’m fine. I just wish Officer Bob and his new attack dog would do their job and leave me alone.”
“Well, they probably won’t be sniffing around for too long. The kid hung himself, case closed.”
Greg’s shoulder muscles went stiff. It was a little easier to hear Eddie jumping to conclusions than the BCPD, but not by much. He decided it wasn’t worth an argument.
“You know Officer Bob. He never misses the chance to give me a hard time.”
“I guess so, but you’d think that would change now that he’s about to retire.”
Greg almost dropped his board to the sand. He couldn’t believe his ears.
“He’s retiring? Since when?”
“Don’t act so surprised. It’s been coming for a while now. Come on, we have to get going.”
Eddie paddled out with Greg right behind him. The water looked like glass as they glided along at a good clip. It took them no time to reach the others. Marco was ranting when they arrived. Sobriety was a familiar subject matter for Greg, but he liked that his friend was getting more comfortable talking about it around other people.
“I’ve done a lot of gnarly shit in my life, but nothing prepared me for killing that dude. It’s like I relive that moment every time I close my eyes. And when I open them again, all I want to do is get wasted. Like, really fucking wasted.”
They all nodded along in understanding, but nobody spoke in case he had more to say. A full minute passed before the group’s leader, Pete, turned to welcome Greg and Eddie.
“Great to see you. We’re getting ready to wrap it up, but I wanted to give you guys the chance to share. Want to start, Greg?”
Greg was still rattled by the last twenty-four hours. And he was stunned by the news about Officer Bob. The two of them had been battling each other for so many years that it felt like losing a limb. He couldn’t imagine what life in The Bay Cities would be like without his nemesis around. He was a little annoyed that Officer Bob didn’t bother to mention it.
But his disappointment was nothing compared to the mounting dread he felt about going on tour. He was riddled with guilt about leaving Kristen and his son
behind while he went out to relive his youth. And he worried a lot about what road life would do to Junior’s son, Chris. That kid had already experienced a lot more loss than your average thirteen-year-old, and Greg was about to throw him into the deep end of the rock and roll cesspool.
Greg knew from experience that touring wasn’t a lifestyle to be taken lightly. It’d turned most of his band into raging drug addicts the last time around, and transformed him into one of the most violent people on the planet. And now all of those familiar feelings were welling up inside of him again, fueled by everything that had torn his life to pieces in the twenty-something years since his last tour. Is there a worse omen than finding a dead body back stage after your first show?
It was enough to make him want to start drinking again, something on his mind a lot these days. The thought of everything he might lose made him want to vomit. Greg gripped the paddle in his hands until his knuckles went white.
He’d gone so deep into his own thoughts that he almost forgot he was bobbing on a paddleboard in the Pacific Ocean. He looked up, slowly realizing the rest of the group was still waiting for him to answer Pete’s question.
“I’m good. I’ve got a lot going on right now, but everything’s fine.”
“Cool. How about you, Eddie?”
If Greg felt like his life was spinning out of control, Eddie was riding a wave of euphoria. He spent his mornings out on his paddleboard, his afternoons playing pool and shooting the breeze with a few of his friends at the bar, and most of his evenings with Junior and Chris. He’d even started dating again.
Seeing Eddie doing so well would normally make Greg happy, but these days it was too much to stomach. He waited until the old man got through the sunshine report before the three of them paddled back to shore together. Eddie said his goodbyes when they reached the beach. Greg turned to Marco.
“You ever worry about going back out on the road?”
“Hell yeah, dude. It’s hard enough trying to stay clean around here where everybody’s watching out for me. Who knows what the hell will happen once we get in the van.”