Death Of A Rock Star

by Nancy McGovern

  Rafael nodded. “I was asleep, and I was woken up by a shot. When I went out, Victor was in the hallway, struggling to open my mom’s door. He started shouting about gunshots. Then Martin came out, and he kicked the door open. Martin and I rushed to where my mother lay, while Victor stood by the doorway, just frozen. We found the key to the room on the floor later on.”

  Nora nodded. “So Victor was rattling the doorknob when you came out? But he was doing it silently?”

  Rafael frowned. “Kind of weird now that I think about it. Yes. Victor was rattling the doorknob, sort of like he was testing if it was locked. He looked up and started yelling about gunshots as soon as I came out.”

  A vision rose in Nora’s head--an idea of how Ayla could have been murdered from outside a locked door. What if Victor had killed Ayla, and then rushed out to lock the door? When Rafael stumbled out, Victor had probably been caught and in a panic, pretended that he was trying to get to Ayla instead of away from her? It would have been easy, too, to drop the key inside the room while Martin and Rafael were distracted, and claim that the door was locked from the inside.

  Perhaps the open window was the red herring. The real question was, if Ayla had locked the door from inside and killed herself--why drop the key on the floor? Wouldn’t it be far more natural to place it on a nightstand or table? Weirder still, the same pattern had been repeated today. Seth had been found dead in the middle of the room, and the key had been found under his bed. If Seth had killed himself--and Nora really doubted that he had--why on earth would he toss the key there?

  “Hey guys.” Martin Schwartz entered the room, wearing striped blue pajamas, with a towel around his neck. “You doing ok? Specially you, Rafael?”

  Rafael shrugged. “I’m just shutting it all out for now.”

  “Man, I’m so sorry. This must be terrible for you.” Schwartz leaned down and gave Rafael a hug. “It’s so twisted. Why would Seth do this to you? He must have known how much it would hurt! To recreate the night of Ayla’s death, and then kill himself in the middle of it…it’s just…weird.”

  “Martin…buddy.” Rafael’s voice was heavy. “I’m beginning to think that it isn’t weird. I don’t think Seth killed himself.”

  “What?!” Martin looked shocked. “But the door…it was locked..”

  “I don’t know. It clicked as I was talking to Nora, but the circumstances just seem so strange to me. Seth always doubted the police’s verdict of suicide in my mother’s case. What if he’d found some new evidence all these years later? What if that’s why he gathered us here?”

  “Are you saying that we’re trapped in this house with a killer?” Martin’s eyes were wide.

  Rafael bit his lip so hard this time, that a drop of blood welled up. “I’m saying…the amount of details that are identical in my mother’s death and Seth’s are no coincidence. There’s foul play afoot.”

  *****

  Chapter 8

  Martin Leaps To Action

  “My God, man!” Martin exclaimed. “If one word of what you said is true, then we can’t just leave things lying! We have to redouble our efforts to contact the police.”

  “No,” Nora said. As if to back her up, a flash of lightning lit up the world outside, followed by an ominous roll of thunder. “If you three try and cross the bridge, you might get hurt. We need to be patient about things. The storm can’t last more than a few hours.”

  “A few hours is too many to spend in the company of a murderer!” Martin exclaimed. “Especially one as wily and cunning as this one.”

  Rafael shrugged. “I mean, I could be overreacting. It could just be a suicide.”

  “I don’t know, man.” Martin bit his lip. “Did you find it weird that Victor was outside the door this time too? I mean, by the time the two of us heard the shot, came out of our rooms, and went up the stairs, he was already there.”

  Rafael nodded. “I did find it weird. Very weird.”

  Martin got up, his face darkening. “Where is he now? I think we need to have a talk with him.”

  “Whoa there.” Nora held up a hand. “I get that tempers are high, but we can’t just go around accusing people of murder. That’s the police’s business and—”

  “It’s not that,” Martin said. “He’s alone upstairs with Lenu. That’s what worries me.”

  “He could also be covering up his tracks,” Rafael said. “I mean, we’ve locked the door to Seth’s room, but what if he’s gone through the window or something?”

  “Let’s go find him. I’ve got more than a few questions for him.” Both Martin and Rafael shot up and were about to head out the door when Nora physically blocked them.

  “Guys. Here’s what we’re going to do; the two of you are going to set the table for dinner, and I’m going to call Rafael and Lenu downstairs. OK? We’ll all sit together until the police can be called. That way, we’re sure nobody is tampering with evidence, and we’re not throwing around accusations blindly.”

  Martin looked as though he wanted to object, but Rafael nodded. “Ok. I see the logic in that.”

  “Good. There’s a block of Grana Pradano cheese in the fridge. If one of you could grate some over the fettuccine, that’d be lovely,” Nora said. “As for the chocolate cake, I didn’t get time to set it up with the frosting yet, but I suppose we can just have it separately.”

  Rafael laughed. “What a time to be worried about chocolate cake!”

  “There’s always time to be worried about chocolate cake,” Nora shot back. She kept an eye on the two of them for a moment longer, wondering if they would listen to her, or if they’d let their tempers get the better of them. There was anger simmering under the surface of both men’s calm dispositions. Nora wondered how much of it was real, and whether it was possible that one of them was just faking his outrage. She felt paranoid, true, but who wouldn’t? It was funny how easily--almost eagerly--Martin had sprung up to accuse Victor of a crime that he’d been calling a suicide minutes before. She looked at the big man as he grated cheese over the pasta, and wondered if he wasn’t far smarter than she was giving him credit for. Being an agent in the world of music wasn’t an easy job, after all--it required grit, toughness and cunning. Had he used all those qualities in another, darker part of his life?

  She headed up the stairs, still thinking of Martin, and his whole clueless attitude. Rafael had mentioned that he’d seen a wet spot outside Martin’s room. What was that all about? She paused outside Martin’s door, and looked down. There was still a slight wet patch, though she could tell it had been much bigger before. Hesitating, she turned his doorknob, and found it locked. She looked around, wondering how much time she had before Martin or Rafael came up to see where she had vanished. Deciding to risk it, she took out two bobby pins from her hair, and began manipulating the lock.

  It took thirty-three seconds by the watch, but her racing heart made it feel as though she was taking an eternity. In her experience, while hotels often invested in quality locks for the outside of the premises, internal locks were often the cheapest kinds. Guests lost their keys all the time, after all, and locks needed to be easy to open. Thankfully, this particular hotel hadn’t modernized and installed electronic locks on all the doors yet.

  She slowly opened the door, wincing as it creaked, sure that Martin would come barreling up behind her any second now. When nothing happened, she stepped in carefully.

  A pile of wet clothes lay on the ground, as well as two heavy boots which had been soaked through. An open umbrella lay drying near the window. The bedsheets were still neat, even with an open suitcase thrown on them. With a dry throat, Nora moved forward, knowing that there could be disastrous consequences if she was caught.

  The suitcase was almost empty; most of the clothes were wet on the floor, she guessed. There was, however, a printout of an email inside. She nudged it slightly, and read a fragment.

  "I’m really not sure why it matters to me all these years later. I suppose you’ll think I’m obsessed,
and in some ways, I am. Ayla was the love of my life, and I can’t stop thinking about her still. Come join me, old friend. I have a feeling this weekend will end up being a memorable one, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons. I promise you, you’ll benefit from coming, and I can’t promise you’ll benefit from staying away.

  -Seth."

  So! Seth had flat out told Martin that this meeting would be about Ayla. Nora pursed her lips. What else had Seth told Martin? What was that last line all about? It almost sounded like a threat! She couldn’t really see a motive for Martin to be Ayla’s killer, but suppose he was--had he panicked and killed Seth? The problem, Nora sighed, was that there was just very little she could do to find out. If only she could find a clue that would make things clear! Right now, however, it was equally possible that any of the four in the house had killed Seth. She moved to the wastebasket, and looked in. Her eyebrows raised. Someone—Martin no doubt—had torn a piece of paper into several pieces and had torn them in a hurry. She wondered what that was all about. One fragment was unburned, and she managed to lift it out.

  It was thick, good quality paper. Nora moved to the writing desk and confirmed that it belonged to the hotel’s notepads. In blue ink that could only have come from a fountain pen, she saw written, “…fraud. I’m afraid for my life...”

  Fraud! Had Seth known about some illegal activities Martin was involved in? Had Martin killed him for it? A sudden suspicion struck Nora, and she went over to the boots drying by the door. Lifting them up, she looked underneath, and then brought up the photo she’d clicked of the bootprint on Seth’s ledge.

  It matched almost perfectly.

  She gave a low gasp, and then a sudden scream, as Victor appeared in the doorway. His face was thunderously angry as he looked at her.

  “Victor!” she exclaimed, hastily placing the boots back down. “I was just coming to invite you and Lenu down for dinner.”

  “Is that right?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “Or were you pilfering through Martin’s room? Thief!” He raised his voice in anger, and Lenu’s door opened. She stepped out, surprised. Hastily, Nora shut Martin’s door behind her, and said, “It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all.”

  “Oh? Well, what is it then?” Victor advanced on her threateningly.

  “What’s going on?” Lenu looked sleepy and confused. “Why are you yelling, Victor?”

  “This little imp of a girl is a thief, that’s what’s going on! Why she might well have killed Seth herself! What do we really know about her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nora said. “I’m no thief. I’m no murderer either.”

  “What’s all the yelling?” Rafael and Martin came up the stairs quickly, shoulders thrown back and ready for action. Victor took a step towards them, pointing dramatically at Nora. “I caught this woman in your room, Martin! She was holding up your boots like she meant to steal them!”

  Martin’s face turned pale. He stumbled back a step, and held on to the banister for support. “Wh-what! How could-- that room is private!”

  “Maybe so,” Nora said, feeling as though her suspicions were right after all. “But you still need to explain why you stole a letter from Seth’s room, Martin.”

  “Rid-ridiculous!” Martin exclaimed. “Don’t believe a word she says!”

  “You need to explain yourself,” Nora said. “Before you end up being convicted for murder!”

  *****

  Chapter 9

  Martin’s Confession

  Martin sat down on the stairs, putting his head in his hands. “This—I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “What is happening!” Lenu exclaimed. “I just don’t understand.”

  “I’ll explain,” Nora said. “Seth was blackmailing Martin about a fraud he’d committed. That’s how Seth forced Martin to come to this little reunion even though he didn’t want to. Martin stole a letter from Seth’s room in a panic about being discovered. He climbed through the window to get at it. Don’t deny it Martin, your bootprint matches perfectly with one I found on Seth’s window ledge.”

  “And the wet spot outside Martin’s door?” Rafael asked.

  “I’m guessing he threw his clothes in a pile near the door after he reentered his own room,” Nora said. “The water seeped from the clothes to the carpet, and under the door to the other side. Martin killed Seth, in all likelihood.”

  “No! I didn’t! I swear! You’re right about everything else, but I didn’t kill Seth!” Martin sprang to his feet, and grabbed Nora by the shoulders, shaking her. “I didn’t! Please! Please don’t turn me in to the police!”

  “Why should we believe you!” Rafael’s face was thunderous, as he grabbed Martin and shoved him off Nora. “You were being blackmailed by Seth? Why!”

  “I don’t know why!” Martin said, his whole frame trembling. “Seth’s like a spider. Or was. He hired a private investigator to track us all for a year. He’s been planning this night for ages. I’ve seen it. If you go into his room, there’s a file on each of us. He knows you’ve been cheating on your current husband, Lenu. He knows you visit a gambling den every night, Rafael. As for you, Victor--I guess you’re careful because he had nothing on you. At least, he didn’t show off your file to me.”

  Lenu’s eyes were so wide they took up half her face. “He’s—he’s been tailing us?”

  Martin nodded. “I refused to come, initially. I didn’t want to relive Ayla’s death. He wrote to me saying it would be in my interest to come, and implied that bad things would happen if I didn’t. So I came. Afterwards, around seven p.m., I went to his room to confront him. I wanted to know what he had on me, and I wanted out of this whole messy situation.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He laughed. He gloated about how he’d planned this night. He said, “Wait and watch, Martin my friend. After all these years, I’m going to finally find peace. I’ve been living a half-life since that night.”

  “So what did he have on you?” Rafael asked.

  “Tax fraud,” Martin said. “I’ll be honest with you about it--it’ll ruin me if it comes out, I might even go to jail. But most likely, I’ll just have to pay a hefty fine and escape. It’s not as bad as murder! I promise you, even if he had released the evidence against me, I wouldn’t have killed him for it! I’m not a lunatic!”

  “You’re insane enough to go climbing through windows to retrieve whatever file he had on you,” Rafael said. “How do we know you didn’t also kill him? Maybe you just panicked or something.”

  “I didn’t panic. He wasn’t even in the room when I stole the file,” Martin said. “When I confronted Seth, he kicked me out and told me he’d give me the file when he felt like it. He said he was going to take a bath to clear his head. So I guess I took that as my opportunity. I snuck in through the window, and stole my file. I looked at his notepad; he’d written a note to someone. It was stupid, but I tore it off and stole it. I don’t know why!”

  “You’ve clearly murdered him,” Rafael said. “Your story’s far too unbelievable.”

  “But it’s true!” Martin said. “I swear it is!”

  “What was written on the notepad?” Nora asked. “That letter you burned. What was written on it?”

  Martin shrugged. “I don’t remember exactly, but it said something like, for years now, I’ve been watching my friend cover up this fraud. I’m afraid for my life. Today I will confront him with the fact that he was the one who killed Ayla. Hopefully, he doesn’t kill me first.” To be honest, I just assumed it was about me when I saw the word “fraud” on it. I tore it off and took it with me. It was only when I read it over that I realized...” Martin paled. “I realized he was talking about a different fraud--the fraud of covering up a murder. I think Seth believed Victor had killed Ayla years ago. I think Seth had evidence connecting him to it. I was so scared, I just burned it.”

  “You fool!” Nora exclaimed. “You burned an important piece of evidence to cover your own sins. An innocent man may go t
o jail because of you!”

  “What?” Martin looked confused. “Don’t you mean a guilty man may roam free?”

  “Nevermind that,” Nora said. “Before you left the room, did you see anything else?”

  Martin shook his head. Then he paused. “The gun. The gun we found in Seth’s hand was in his desk drawer when I broke in.”

  “And the key?” Nora asked. “This is important, Martin; where was the key to the room?”

  Martin smiled. “You were so suspicious when I found the key under the bed instantly, weren’t you?”

  “I was,” Nora said.

  “Very well. The key was under the bed. I remember seeing it there. It has a pretty huge and distinctive keychain, as you know. I was actually confused about why Seth had tossed it there. That’s why I was so sure it was suicide later on. The gun was in Seth’s drawer, the key was in the same place as where I’d last seen it…it all added up.”

  Nora nodded. “It does all add up. There’s just a few details more that I need to know.” She turned to Victor. “And you’re going to answer them for me.”

  “Me!” Victor looked angry. “What have I done?”

  “You know what you’ve done.” Rafael advanced on him. “Seth believed you killed my mother, and all of a sudden he’s dead too, in a similar manner? You’re a killer, my friend, but this time, you won’t get away with it!”

  “I didn’t kill anyone!” Victor said.

  “So explain to us how you were in front of Seth’s door at the exact moment he supposedly killed himself? That doesn’t make sense to me,” Rafael said. “No. What I think happened is that you went up around seven thirty to talk to Seth. Then, you killed him. The same way you killed my mother years ago. When it was done, you quickly wiped the gun, placed it in Seth’s hands, and walked out, locking the door. You knew you’d only have seconds before Martin and I came up the stairs, so you didn’t even bother trying to escape. You pulled a bluff instead. You locked the door, and as we came up the stairs, you pretended it was locked from the inside. We believed you, because--why wouldn’t we? Then, after we’d broken the door open, in the confusion of our finding the body, you tossed the keys under the bed--easy enough to do unnoticed while the focus was on the body. Right Victor?”