Wired For Sound

by Cherime MacFarlane

  "Neither. I was approached by Warren, the manager, about doing an album cover." Lori replied.

  "What do you mean, 'doing an album cover'?" Fredrick looked at her appraisingly.

  "I am an artist. I paint. Warren liked my work. He thought perhaps I could do an album cover for the band's third album. They wanted something out of the ordinary. Warren set up an appointment for the band to tour the gallery where I had a show. He scheduled it after hours so fans wouldn't bother the band. I met the band as a group."

  Wearing a slight smile because of the memory, Lori leaned back comfortably. "The show was an absolute marvel. Every one that was anyone in the art world attended. After the news leaked out about my doing a cover for Bushmaster, everything sold.”

  Her smile grew wider, It had been nowhere, but up since that night in more ways than one. Remembering the first time she saw Hamish, Lori glanced at him.

  The expression on her face, the smile and a hint of color in her cheeks, caused Hamish to return her smile. H. M. immediately knew she was recalling the evening.

  Instant lust scorched through his veins at the sight of her. Lori gleamed like a copper penny in the deep rose colored dress shiny with sequins. It clung to her like a second skin.

  Hamish found it very difficult to keep from throwing her over his shoulder and running off with her to the nearest alley, the closer the better. He elbowed Vince out of the way and proceeded to court the dark haired woman whose head barely reached his shoulder.

  1Fredrick watched the play of expressions across their faces. There was a sort of communication between them on a nonverbal level. The Sargent knew he had interrupted something of a physical nature between the two. Obviously Slaughter had meant nothing to the woman, but he had to get it all down.

  "Did Slaughter make any sort of impression on you?" Fredrick asked.

  "Certainly. He was a loud-mouthed bastard with little or no use for anyone other than himself. I knew his kind. I detested him on sight. And I am quite sure the feeling was mutual. He thought I was a raving bitch. Any woman who didn't fall at his feet to worship, was a bitch. Probably frigid in his estimation."

  "I was not fresh out of school." Lori laughed. "I had been on my own for quite a few years, before meeting Vincent. As users go, he was average. Too little real charm to capture my attention."

  If she was lying, it was one of the better performances H.M. had seen. Her disdain for Vince was real, he was convinced of it. But was she holding something back? Beside Warren, H.M. knew at least two other people acquainted with the band who knew Lori prior to the meeting in the gallery.

  Fredrick resumed his questioning. "How long ago was the first meeting? Where did it take place?" He sat with his pen poised over the notebook.

  "A little over two years ago, in Brighton, England. Lovely little town," She went on, "full of all kinds of inspiration. It's one of England's resort towns. Beautiful beaches lots of music, young people and old, fun in the sun. You know the kind of place. I had a tiny little flat I shared with three other people. We had to share to make the rent."

  "So, what happened during the meeting with the band?" He made a few notations on the page then once again fastened his attention on Lori.

  "This keyboard player with shoulders like the hulk politely introduced himself to me. He offered to take me to lunch the next day. I accepted his invitation." Hamish's hand stroked her thigh. The heat of his hand warmed Lori through her jeans.

  "Then the next day you went to lunch with the band."

  "No." Lori corrected Fredrick.

  "Heavy Metal and I were alone. He took me to London for lunch. That was a surprise, I can tell you. It's over fifty miles one way to London from Brighton. We went to some ritzy little French place. It probably cost him an arm and a leg."

  "And what took place after that?" Frederick's glance had noticed where Hamish's hand lay and what it was doing.

  "If you want it chronologically, I'll see if I can give it to you correctly."

  She paused for a moment. "The next day was a Tuesday. H.M. woke me up early, a bit earlier than I had planned on rising, when he picked me up at the flat. He took me to Gatwick airport. We took a private plane to Prestwick airport, outside of Glasgow. For the next seven days, we toured the highlands of Scotland by motorcycle. Almost every night, we camped out under the stars."

  Fredrick got a disapproving look on his face. Lori took great delight in wiping it off. "He slept in his sleeping bag, I slept in mine. Hamish took me to places I never knew existed. We dodged sheep, climbed mountains and walked around on Rannoch Moor very carefully."

  Lori was smiling softly as she remembered the trip. "By the end of the week we were friends. He let me sketch to my heart's delight. No one ever let me do that without getting nervous before. People tend to think they don't matter to you if you do what the muse compels you to. Hamish just took out his portable keyboard and played while I drew. I'd never had live music to work to before. I was hooked in short order."

  She sat quietly for a moment remembering the trip. They picked up his motorcycle from storage in Glasgow. The first thing they did was drive into the city center. He took her to down town Glasgow where they explored George's Square.

  When he parked the bike, Hamish helped her off, lifting her carefully, so she didn't burn herself on the hot exhaust. As they walked over the uneven cobblestones, he tucked her arm in his, carefully bringing Lori around to his left side so he was between her and any traffic.

  Having been on her own for several years, Lori was used to watching out for herself. She was not used to being treated as if she were precious. Having his big body between her and dangerous things was quite new. The man was an old school gentleman.

  They stopped for a cup of tea in a sunroom attached to a gracefully aging hotel on the north side of the square. The girl who served them had a 1difficult time containing herself until it was time for them to leave. Only then did she tell H.M. how much she liked the band and ask for his autograph.

  H.M. took Lori to the museum where she wandered around staring at the exhibits in awe. The weapons room astounded her. They even had the armor belonging to the real black knight.

  Afterward they went back to the square. A pub called The Berlin was where they settled in for high tea. At Hamish's urging she tried the steak and kidney pie which no one else had ever been able to get her to eat. The meal was delicious. She washed it all down with a half pint of good beer. Her hunger was more than satisfied.

  Together, they sat in the sun for a while on a bench in the square. Lori wandered off to look at the war memorial. Hamish stayed behind on the bench. When Lori returned, his eyes were closed. His face was turned up to the sun, arms stretched out along the back of the bench. He looked like a statue. She could imagine him as one of the warriors from the museum. Lori leaned forward and kissed him. It was as easy as simple as that.

  She made the first move, something unusual for her. He returned the kiss without moving. She remembered the taste of his lips. Fredrick said something. Caught in the memory of that day, she was startled for a moment before recalling he was supposed to be questioning her.

  "When we returned to Brighton, I got on with the album cover. Hamish got on with making the music to go in it. He invited me to the studio so I could get a feel for the music. I listened and went back to my studio to recreate in paint what I heard. It was great! I loved working on the painting. It took me in a new direction. Half seen towers were rising out of a thick mist. People half seen slipped in and out of the landscape barely revealed through patches of fog. It was eerie! It almost painted itself. My trip to Scotland with H.M. provided the basis for the painting. When the album was finished, the painting was ready. They seemed to feed off each other."

  Lori stretched her arms above her head. "When they were both in the hands of the production people, Hamish asked me to go on a sea cruise. I told him I had another commission which had a deadline. He told me it wasn't a problem. I could work on the ship. He made
sure I had a studio, it was incorporated with his on the ship. I had a lovely time. He worked on his music, I worked on my paintings. We moved into one cabin before we reached the Italian coast. We were married before we returned home."

  Her statement took Fredrick by surprise. "It doesn't say anything about you two being married in my information."

  H.M. spoke. "Warren decided it would be bad for my image if anyone found out we were married. Living together is trendy. Bugger that! I dinnae care if he kept it quiet. 'Twas his problem. Tha captain of tha vessel married us. 'Tis tha only thing I care about."

  "How did Slaughter take the news?" Fredrick watched them for their reactions to his question.

  The question was answered by MacGrough. "Tha fuck-wit raised ah fuss. I told him he could bloody do anythin he liked, hire another keyboard player tae replace me if he wished. But, if I went, tha songs I own, went with. I told him he could do any bleeding thing he wanted tae," the big Scotsman put his other bare foot on the coffee table. "I wouldnae give up my wife."

  Lori spoke next. "He called me a grasping bitch. If he had known what a time H.M. had talking me into actually getting married, he would have known better."

  Fredrick eyed them both. "So there was some difficulty with him? Was there a possibility the band would break up?"

  The laugh which came out of MacGrough was harsh. "That was ah constant threat. Vincent had ah hard time keepin ah civil tongue in his head. Tha rest of us got quite good at tellin tha bastard where tae go an, how long tae stay there. I wasna worried about it. Seventy percent of the songs tha band recorded were written by me alone, I own them. If I left, Bushmaster would have been in trouble."

  Fredrick nodded. "I suppose that's the reason he didn't want you to quit after this tour?"

  "True." H.M. agreed. "But, tae quote tha Eagles "I was already gone". He proposed ah modification in our agreement. I told him he could piss off, I was leavin. Fini. He carried on, whinin an such. I hated it more than anythin when he carried on like that. He knew it wouldnae do him any good. He knew I was gone. As I told you, I expected some kind of legal retaliation. Nae matter, I was ready for it. I wasnae ready for someone to knock tha bugger off. Bloody loony that, Slaughter wasnae worth being buried alive in some friggin cell for."

  The cop watched them both for a minute. "Did you have any idea what type of legal "thing" he might have in mind?"

  Hamish nodded. "Likely, some injunction to keep me from playin my songs. What tha bloody eejit dinna ken was tha I was plannin an album of songs he never even knew existed. Things I put tagether at home. Lori is tha only other person who has heard my new material. Slaughter hadnae ah clue. Tis good stuff, I was able to branch out intae different styles, tha kind of songs Bushmaster couldnae do."

  Lori stroked his forearm. Hamish was extremely upset. She knew he was upset by the murder. She did not want the cop to get the impression H.M. was under stress because of his line of questioning.

  "Can I tell you something in confidence Sergeant?" Fredrick jumped at it as she thought he would.

  "I haven't read you your rights, so at this time I might be able to listen to a confidence. Who would you rather didn't learn of your information?"

  "The press Sergeant. They are our main concern." Lori replied.

  He appeared a bit unsettled by her comment for a brief instant. He had probably been hoping for a revelation regarding one of the other members of the band.

  Fredrick put the notebook down next to him on the chair. "I think I can guarantee to keep this interview from the media."

  "Good. H.M. had originally planned the move away from the band while on the cruise when we were married. He had gradually been separating himself from Bushmaster."

  She stared at the man sitting across from them. "I also want to make you aware of the fact that Hamish doesn't particularly like playing in the United States. We have a violent country officer, my husband finds it quite difficult to handle. The United Kingdom is a great deal quieter, also the police there aren't particularly threatening. Dealing with you and your kind here is a bit of a trial for him."

  Fredrick became noticeably angry. "There isn't a better country in the world. Everyone wants to come to America."

  Lori nodded. "Certainly, if they want more money and notoriety. I like living in Britain and Europe. I find the people to be more interested in the quality of life than in money in many cases. The U.S. is a great place for capitalists. However, not everyone is a capitalist. My husband only wants to go home. Left to his own devices, he would not tour in the U.S., the band worked by majority rule, he lost the vote to tour Australia, Canada, Japan and Europe only. He stayed with Bushmaster for this tour simply to work out the end of his contract without a fuss. No more, no less."

  Fredrick looked at Lori. Then he stared at H.M. searchingly. "You don't like Americans?"

  "Wrong Sergeant. I like Americans verra well. I married one. I dinna care for being abused by tha polis in New York on my verra first tour with Bushmaster. They were a wee bit heavy handed an it soured me on yur country."

  H.M. wondered if Lori had said too much. Would this confession turn the man against them? Fredrick was silent, digesting this information. He put the notebook away.

  "O.K. Tell me about the police in your country. I've never been out of the States. I only know what I've seen in the 1movies."

  H.M. considered his words carefully before replying. "In Scotland the polis are less aggressive. They dinna carry guns unless they have tae deal with an armed suspect. There are armed suspects, Sargent. Glasgow is supposedly tha knife capital of Europe. But tha polis have their authority. As ah whole tha coppers have ah decent relationship with tha people which helps them tae do their duty. Most people respect their office, 'tis nice tae know you willna be shot because a copper is afraid of ye."

  Fredrick shook his head. "Don't they have trouble apprehending criminals? You people have a lot of trouble with those IRA terrorists."

  Rubbing his right hand down his thigh, Hamish replied. "Tha IRA is ah different kettle of fish entirely. They have concentrated their operations in Northern Ireland an England. Certainly, they have tae be taken care of by tha polis, but they are not representative of tha common man in any way."

  Hamish watched Fredrick's face as he continued to explain. "Tha polis have nae particular problem with apprehension of criminals. 'Tis ah small island, where are they going tae run tae? I suppose that's yur real problem here. Tha U.S. is tae big, tae unwieldy. I can see yur dilemma. A suspect could stay at large for quite ah while goin from state tae state. I suppose your history, tha old west an all, made guns tae large ah part of tha picture. 'Tis somewhat tha same in Australia. They tend tae be more aggressive, tha citizens that is."

  "I have always thought I would like to go to Europe." Fredrick smiled. "If I ever had the money for a trip."

  "You really should try it some time." H.M. encouraged him.

  "A different perspective is ah good thing. Small bed an breakfast places are all over tha U.K. an Europe. You can get ah good deal in tha fall when all tha college students have returned home."

  "I might just do it Mr. MacGrough. Now, back to Mr. Slaughter's murder. When do you think the equipment was tampered with?"

  H.M. noticed some of the frost had left the man's tone. It was a good sign. They might be able to cooperate after all. They both wanted the same thing, with a few minor differences.

  "We have given it ah lot of thought. It would have tae have happened during tha crew party after tha last show in Seattle. Everyone was carrying on an not payin tae much attention tae tha equipment. They didna have tae pack up until morning. There would have been plenty of time for someone tae slip backstage an rewire tha amp. I imagine tha amp must have been rewired. Have you verified that?"

  Lori noticed that H.M.'s anxiety level had decreased. The tension in the room was considerably lower. She liked this cop much better than the other one, the cop who had originally interviewed her. This one might have an open mind.<
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  "Un huh. According to our technicians, the power plug was rewired and the polarity switched. I hadn't realized that was enough to complete a circuit and fry someone."

  "Och, well, there is more tae it than that. Vince had vintage guitars. They are wired differently from today's models. Having his hand on tha strings, tha guitar on, and touching tha metal mike stand, wired him. It was an old problem tha early electronic musicians faced. Actually, I've been zapped ah time or two myself. Nothing hard enough to kill, but enough tae let me know I'd been careless."

  Fredrick acknowledged the statement with a nod. "I've been shocked once or twice myself. Everyone grows up knowing electricity can kill. It appears we have become too negligent with it. Living with it every day makes it easy to ignore the danger."

  "Tha problem here is ah wee bit of specialized knowledge is necessary tae pull something like this off. One would have tae know exactly what tae do. It's not something someone in off tha street could just pick up ah tool an do. I suppose what I'm trying tae say, is someone with ah particular bit of knowledge, common tae those in this industry an those interested in this industry, is tha responsible party. Someone close tae this business killed Vincent. It hurts me tae have tae admit it, but I must."

  Fredrick stood up. "You have already answered my last question. I think I have all I need from you at this time. I'll be leaving now. Thank you for your help."

  The sergeant let himself out the door. H.M. and Lori sat silently on the couch. They were both lost in thought.

  Finally, Lori turned to H.M. "Who do you want to question next?"

  "I dinna think I care for the term 'question'," he shifted position on the couch. "I suppose it fits, however. I think we should let Fredrick trot around an see whoever he wishes first. I personally think it's time for lunch even if it's ah wee bit early. Do you want tae go out by tha pool, get ah bit of sun an have ah wee swim perhaps before we decide who tae accost next?"