"Sergeant Fredrick is ah fairly intelligent man. I cannae speak about tha other one. Wha did ye make of him?"
Twisting the mug around on the little pad it sat on, she watched the moisture create damp rings. "I don't like him. I certainly could not talk to him. He was terrifying...he was so cold."
Hamish leaned toward her. Gently he brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "Sorry, luv. Dinnae be frightened. I had nothing tae do with Vincent's death. Don't worry about it, luv. We'll be fine."
She waved a hand in his direction. "That possibility did not even enter into my thoughts. When would you have had the time to slip out Hamish? Let's talk about something else or I won't be able to eat."
Lori was silent for a moment. He watched her face. She was thinking of another topic. The tiny lift to her mouth before she looked at him told H.M. Lori had indeed found something to take her mind off Slaughter.
Looking at her husband over the rim of the mug, she grinned. "You know I have always liked talking dirty in ritzy restaurants to hunks. Volez vous coucherie avec moi?" Lori smiled at him with a slight leer.
"Now if I had ah kilt on I would invite ye tae sit on my lap, lassie." Hamish watched unadulterated lust beam at him from Lori's smile. The change of subject agreed with her.
"When they bring the fish and chips, don't sit there soaking them in vinegar forever. I want to get home sometime tonight." She wiggled suggestively.
Hamish finished his beer calmly. He enjoyed it when she made it clear that sex was what she wanted from him. Her advances sometimes shocked him a bit which he loved. Being with Lori was like living in a slightly bawdy flick, nothing too raw, just fun loving sex.
Once they returned to the hotel, it was easy to see things were going to be difficult in the future. Between the police, hotel security and the reporters, it was a madhouse at the front entrance. H.M. took off his cap and jacket. He turned the jacket inside out after stuffing the cap inside the bundle. No sense in letting them see more than they needed to.
Hamish hustled Lori along in front of him, using his shoulders; he plowed a path through the mob into the hotel. The lobby was clear of reporters. They were able to get inside an elevator then up to their floor without any other problems.
"I want ah shower. Would you care tae join me?" He threw the bundle of coat with the hat inside on the couch once they were safely inside their room.
Lori nodded. She followed him into the bedroom. H.M. stripped then headed for the shower. Lori followed along. He stood under the steaming water, sighing in pleasure as she rubbed his back with long strokes using the soap for a lubricant.
"Hummm. Feels good, luv."
Lori rinsed his back. "My turn. I feel a little tight. I want a rub too." She stepped between him and the spray of water before pushing him out of her way.
Turning the showerhead on full pulse, Lori leaned forward against the wall. The water was hitting the middle of her back, slightly below her shoulders.
Hamish lathered up his hands and rubbed soap on the upper part of her back. He used his thumbs to knead the muscles alongside her spine. Bent over, her lovely rounded butt drew his attention.
"I can loosen ye up. How about ah hip massage?" Sliding his hands around her body, he splayed his hands over her abdomen and pushed Lori backward. Hamish rotated himself against her buttocks and immediately began to get hard.
Pushing away from him, Lori straightened up and turned to glare at her husband. "In a minute. I want to wash my hair first. Back off, barbarian!"
Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and moved under the spray. Before she could put shampoo on her hair, Hamish took her chin in his hand. He kissed her wet lips.
With a mock grumble, the big man backed out of the shower. "Well then! Let me know when ye're quite ready."
Lori heard the blow dryer start as she concentrated on shampooing her hair. They couldn't stay in limbo forever. Something had to break soon, or they could be in trouble. H.M. needed to get the album out, especially now. If you were out of circulation for any length of time at all, you became a has-been, and then a comeback had to be staged.
She doubted Hamish had the temperament to put up with being treated as second rate. He would probably give it all up and do, God only knew what. Quitting would be very bad for him. He needed to play, needed to make music.
Lori realized she needed to relax. Nothing she could do was going to make a difference at this stage. Trying to push all the worries to the back of her mind, she let the hot water relax her. Tilting her head backwards, she ran her fingers through her wet hair to rinse it.
When she was ready to get out of the shower, Lori called out to H.M. "All done. Have you turned down the bed? Are the lights out?"
"Aye. Ye do ken nae one is goin tae see ye. They would need ah helicopter an would have tae fly over tha courtyard wall tae get pictures."
She left the shower enclosure and began to towel dry her hair. "Right! I'm not going to let those stupid photographers get a chance."
Hamish walked into the bathroom nude. He slipped a fluffy towel around her before lifting Lori into his arms. "An tha genie said, 'yur wish is my command.' What else would ye like, wee lassie?"
Her smile crumpled. "Can we please go home right now? Can I wake up and find this is just a bad dream?"
Without a reply, he carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Hamish turned off the lamp on the chest of drawers before partially closing the bathroom door. Leaving the light on in the bathroom, so the room was not in total darkness, he walked back to the bed.
"Sorry, luv. How about this for ah substitute?" Hamish lifted her onto his lap. "I have nae kilt on, nothin on in fact." His lips brushed hers.
"Hamish, don't tease me. Not now." She sucked on his lower lip as she hugged him. Lori rubbed her hands down his shoulders.
"You remind me of the Hulk. I always liked the Hulk. Remember the TV show?" She noticed his broad Scots had moderated. Hamish MacGrough was a chameleon. In Canada, he could easily pass for a citizen after only a few hours there. In Britain, he could pan loaf, speak upper crust, British, with the best of them.
While French kissing her, he idly fondled one nipple. Then he drew back. "Ye mean tha big green guy? I thought that was tha jolly green giant."
"Honey, I don't care what you call yourself as long as you remember whose hunk you are." Her fingers closed around him, and Lori gave him a gentle tug. There was an instant response.
"Ah, ye're ah wicked woman." He kept his arms around her as he fell back on the big bed. "I canna resist ye when you want me so badly."
Her fingers stroked his body lightly. She touched all the places guaranteed to make him respond. "A wicked woman for a wicked man."
Lori straddled his body before leaning forward for a long probing kiss.
"Just love me. Do it long and hard. I don't want to think about anything for a while."
As he shifted position beneath her, a picture of Vincent writhing in pain flashed through his mind. Hamish blocked it out quickly.
Placing both hands on her breasts, he pushed her into a sitting position. "Long an hard? That is one wish this genie can grant."
Pulling up his knees as she began to ride so that she could lean against his thighs, Hamish took her hips in his hands and bounced her upward. As she began to get almost out of control, he lifted her off of him and flipped her over onto the bed. Lori was reaching for him.
Moving away, Hamish knelt at the side of the bed. Gripping her ankles, he tugged Lori to the edge of the mattress. He knew both of them needed to keep this one going for a while. They needed to feel, not think.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, Hamish took her hands to tug her upward. Lori knew what he wanted and put her arms around his neck. Hamish lifted her to thrust into her again. Holding her up by the hips, he walked over to the bathroom door.
Pushing it open with one bare foot, he huffed out, "Grab tha casement."
Lori grabbed the wooden door frame with both han
ds. "Never done this before." She managed to gasp out.
"Keep yur legs round my waist an we'll see how it works. I luv you, woman."
Sometime later they lay on the bed holding hands, both a little out of breath from the exertion.
H.M. broke the silence. "I've been thinkin about this entire muddle. I dinnae believe any of tha band members killed Vince."
Lori laughed softly. "You are the only person I know who can make love like a mink while thinking of something entirely separate. But I agree. I don't believe you, Thud, Lurch or Glen, and even Vincent himself could be capable of premeditated murder. So, that leaves the crew along with all the hangers on. How many of them would have the knowledge necessary to do such a thing?"
H.M. turned on his side and tugged one of the pillows under his head. "The crew have tha knowledge an more. They have tha opportunity; they have access tae all tha gear as well. Motive is another question."
He pushed the pillow into a more comfortable position. "I am sure, ah great many people ken vintage guitars have tha potential tae hurt someone if tha wiring is set up wrong. How many musicians an would-be musicians are there in America alone, who are aware of tha problem? Tae many tae count. In this case, opportunity an motive are tha decidin factors."
Lori snuggled close, her head tucked beneath his chin. "I could understand anyone on this tour attacking Vincent in the middle of one of his tirades, but, not this. Someone's hatred has gone beyond anger into suppressed rage. Who? Who hated him so much?"
Hamish reached out to flip the sheet over them. "If we had tha answer, we would be able to inform tha polis then get on tha plane for home. You may be right, Lori, I am nae sure tha authorities can solve this riddle in any reasonable amount of time. Perhaps you an I are tha only ones who can do tha job quickly enough."
"MacGrough! What in the world are you talking about? Yes, we do know everyone. We probably know right now, things it will take the police days to uncover. But why would we want to even try to find out who the murderer is? It has to be someone we know. Can we really turn someone over to the police? I'm not sure we should involve ourselves in the affair. Look, Hamish, no matter how this ends, we stand to lose something, a record deal or a friend and associate. The only people who had both opportunity and motive are people we know."
He was silent. His fingers stroked her arm as he turned the problem over in his mind. "I hate killin. Do they have tha death penalty in America?"
"It varies with each state. Here in California, I believe they do. They use lethal injection if I remember correctly."
His fingers continued to stroke her arm. "Overdose? I dinnae care for that. Nor do I care for tha picture of Vince I will probably carry with me tae tha grave. Worst of all, I tried tae save him an failed. The person who arranged this wanted him tae burn. They should be punished somehow. Sorry, darlin, I just cannae find any justification for this sort of act. If that makes me hidebound, then I am."
Lori sighed. "If we can figure out who did this, then what? They will go to jail and perhaps even be put to death. Vincent must have done something horrible to this individual. If we turn them over are we any different? We know what could happen."
Hamish yawned. "After we catch tha person responsible, we will get them tha best barrister money can buy. Ye are quite likely correct. The Viper must have done something utterly inhuman tae someone. Worse, he did it right under our noses. Try tae get some rest, luv. In tha morning, we are goin tae have tae make some calls. We'll have tae get up early."
They huddled together in the darkness. Lori fell asleep within a few minutes. Hamish lay awake, his brain turning the problem about to try to find some solution to their present predicament.
One nasty little thought refused to be banished. Why had Lori and Vince hated one another on sight? For some time, he had been aware of his wife's vulnerability when it came to men. Someone wounded her. It took him quite a while to establish any degree of trust between them.
He wanted her to come along on the tours and had been the first one to veto the idea of children. In his opinion, they needed to be on a more stable footing financially, before thinking of starting a family. He also wanted a certain amount of independence for the both of them. The fact that he initiated the ideas went a long way toward calming her fears of marriage.
If he were brutally honest with himself, Hamish had to admit she did not want to take the last step. He insisted. Hamish acknowledged that he forced the ultimate commitment on both of them.
She now freely admitted marriage had not changed either of them. Lori loved him. She certainly told him so often enough. What she had not told him, suddenly assumed a gigantic paranoid question mark in his mind. Was she involved with Vince in the past? Had he been her former lover?
Vincent and Lori did have friends in common. It was entirely possible they could have known each other before he and Lori ever met. What compounded the problem, and added to the circumstantial evidence was the fact that Vince had, about a year before H.M.'s meeting with Lori, spent every available moment in Brighton.
Brighton was where Lori was living. Vince made no secret of the fact that he had a woman there. The affair had come to a crashing halt with Vincent angry and sour on women as a whole for some time. It was not a great amount of fact to build a case on, but Vince had never divulged the identity of the lady in question.
Hamish had to admit he welcomed Lori's aversion to Vincent in the beginning. Vince always had the major share of the groupies. Hamish had not worried about it particularly as he did get his share of feminine adoration. But, when it came to Lori, he lost all sense of proportion.
Had she shown any interest in Vince, he would have been devastated and insanely jealous in the bargain. Unfortunately, he knew under those conditions he probably would have considered eliminating Vince from the face of the earth.
Not that he would have actively planned to kill him, but in the heat of an argument? What could, or would, he have done? It was an interesting question. A question which made him squirm in aggravation because he had no answer. Perhaps he was judging the killer too harshly. No, murder was wrong! It was against all laws, moral and civil.
Hamish came back to the same question. Had there been any kind of relationship between Lori and Vincent previously? Why hadn't she told him about her prior lovers?
Lori certainly had a catalogue of his indiscretions from the first instance to the last. She wormed them all out of him, one by one. Her persistence flattered him because it reassured Hamish of Lori's feelings toward him.
There were times when he wondered if he had been too quick in forcing them both into marriage. Hamish sometimes, during sleepless nights, wondered if she would still be around if he were to lose all he possessed. He also wondered why she still had not confided in him. Who wounded her enough that she did not want to speak his name? What was she hiding?
Putting one arm over his head, the big man tried to get comfortable. He should get out of bed since he was not sleeping. If he got up and went into the sitting room, he could work on the songs for the album.
Lori moved closer. Her cheek was up against his bare chest. Lori's breath slipped across his skin; Hamish knew he was going nowhere.
If she woke, and he was not there, Lori would come looking for him, fear in her eyes. Did anyone know the other Lori? The shy little thing he caught glimpses of? He could not hurt her, even if it meant a sleepless, unproductive night. Sometimes, Hamish thought he had more questions since they had married then less.
In the past, these questions nagged at him off and on. Nothing too vexing, occasional jabs here and there in the lonely hours when sleep was impossible. During that dark time when things always appear at their worst.
Now, he was terrified Lori had been involved with Vince, and the polis would find out about it. What if she had a motive for murdering Vince?
She was an intelligent woman. His wife was capable of repairing a lamp cord. He knew it for a fact. With a little research, she could have foun
d out about the problem with vintage guitars and electrical hookups.
He knew she was capable of the mechanics necessary to set up Vincent's death. He hoped she had not been involved with Vincent in any way. Hamish was praying she was not hiding something which could ruin both their lives. He had to know who killed Vince because he had to know Lori was not the murderer.
Hamish lay awake for quite a while. In the early hours of the morning, he dozed lightly, not truly sleeping.
Sitting at the dressing table, trying to comb the tangles out of her hair, Lori caught him watching her in the mirror. H. M.'s dark eyes, usually alive and warm, were like dark pools she could not fathom. Something about the way he was staring made her nervous.
"I should have dried my hair last night." Lori tried to break the silence.
MacGrough was a complicated man with depths to him like Loch Ness, unplumbed. In an effort to make him smile, she made a reference to their love making.
"I was in too much of a hurry last night to bother with drying my hair. Now, I'm paying for it." When she turned to look at him, there was no change in his expression.
Since humor wasn't helping, Lori decided to leave it alone. He was probably upset over Vincent's death. It was doubtful he would get over it anytime soon. "We are certainly up early; it's barely seven. What are we going to do today?"
Hamish moved away toward the drawers where their clothing was stored. Digging through the dresser, he pulled out a clean pair of jeans. "Why don't ye call room service an have breakfast sent up. I need tae get on with making those calls tae Glasgow."
Shirtless and barefoot, he left the bedroom after pulling on the pants. Walking silently into the sitting room, he sat on the sofa and placed both feet on the coffee table.
The phone was in front of him. Lori walked in after him and put her address book down next to the phone. Picking up the receiver, she made the call to room service. After placing their order, she went back into the bedroom to finish dealing with her hair.
Hamish opened the address book. Finding the number for his contact at the Glasgow studio, he made it his first call. There were several people he needed to contact, but this call was the most important of the lot. The number was busy. H.M. hung up the phone and tried another number from the book.
Wired For Sound Page 3