by David Archer
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.
7
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, tossing a t-shirt over the shorts he wore as PJs.
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 SpongeBob cartoons, so Sam got up and went to his bedroom door. He stood there for a moment, watching as Indie ran the vac and 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 fil
e 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), and 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, which 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, and 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 there on the porch, 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.
“Like you’ve heard, 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.”
They all broke into smiles. “That's awesome, man,” Chris said. “Let us hear it.”
Sam took a guitar and played the melody as he sang, and by the time he was halfway through the first verse, the band was playing along, feeling their way through the chords and following his lead. They went through the song a couple of times, and then Chris and Stan made a few suggestions that Sam liked, and the final version sounded fantastic! They rehearsed the song several times, and by eight, they had it perfect.
Chris slapped Sam on the back. “Dude,” he said, “the girl is gonna love it!”
Sam got home at just before nine, and saw that the house was pretty dark. Indie met him at the door, kissed him a welcome, and then led him into the dining room, where a candlelight dinner was waiting for the two of them.
“Kenzie's asleep,” she said. “I let her have her dinner early, so we could have some time to ourselves."
She took the cover off the pot that was sitting in the middle of the table, and began making a plate that she set in front of him. Roast beef with potatoes, onions, and carrots—Sam was amazed, and s
miled.
“So, what did I do to deserve all this?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “This is just for being you,” she said, and made another plate for herself. She sat down at the place beside him and looked into his eyes. “Sam, you scared me to death when you offered to let us stay here, but then you proved yourself a man of your word over and over. There were a couple of times when I was feeling so lonely and weak that if you'd made a move on me, I probably would have welcomed it, but you never did.”
Sam grinned. “Good thing I didn't know that,” he said, “or my self-discipline might have slipped!”
She slapped his arm playfully. “No, it wouldn't have. I know you, now, and you'd have told me how tempting it was, but that it wasn't a good idea and sent me up the stairs to bed.”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I probably would have. I've never been the kind to take advantage of vulnerability, not on purpose.”
“And that's why you deserve to be treated like the man you are. I've always wondered what it would be like to be with a man who was really a gentleman, but tough enough to take on the world and win, and now I know, thanks to you. Thank you, Sam.”
Sam blushed. “You're welcome, Indie, but don't misunderstand my willingness to do the right thing as lack of desire to do something else. If you think it's been easy not to make a pass, think again. I watch you walk up the stairs, and it's like lighting a fire under a rocket! I do see how beautiful you are, and I see how sexy you are, and I like both. Neither one of us should let our guard down, Babe, not yet. Not ‘til you’re sure of what you want.”
Indie nodded. “I understand,” she said, “and I agree. I don't want a relationship based on sex, and I don't think you do either. I want a relationship that's based on two people who actually want to share their lives with each other, and I think we may be headed in the right direction—but we're not there yet. Am I right?”