by Tyora Moody
Wes nodded. “I think it’s going to be a wonderful story. Have you been able to reach out to Minister J.D.? I’m sure he would love to be a part of the story.”
Serena sighed. “Yeah, I know you gave me his information. I will do that, but in the meantime I need to get something tonight for Southern Soul Café. I’m going to call my contact.” Serena pulled her phone out of her bag, which had been sitting on the floor. “Hey, Lou. How are you doing? It’s Serena. You got anything for me? We have lots of concerned people.” Serena looked over at Wes as she talked.
As he listened to Serena’s conversation with the medical examiner, Wes held on to the arms of his chair.
“So, you were able to get a partial fingerprint?” Serena asked.
Wes watched her eyes grow wide. Please don’t tell me it’s Eddie.
“Thanks, Lou.” Serena stared off into the distance.
“Serena. Hello? Don’t keep me in suspense here. Did they identify the body?”
She turned to him. “Alan is going to flip out. Actually, you might flip out.”
Wes leaned forward. “Who was it, Serena?”
“The fingerprints analysis was a match for Larry Stowe.”
Wes felt his mouth drop open as he struggled to process what Serena had told him. “Melanie Stowe’s dad. Why in the world would he be at Southern Soul Café?” And where is Eddie Gowins?
Serena interrupted his thoughts. “Oh, but that isn’t all, kiddo. There was a definite gunshot wound to the head, which is probably what killed Larry.”
Wes stood and faced Serena. “He was murdered. The fire was about covering up a murder.” Wes held his hand to head. Angel might not have been pleased with him yesterday, but he had to talk to her. Their digging had turned into a connect-the-dots game—except none of the dots were connecting.
Chapter Forty-three
Melanie leaped off the bed to the side. What is going on? She could hear items being thrown against the wall and crashing to the floor. Melanie had been stuck in the cabin room so long, she wondered if she would ever see the outside again. Her heart raced as she heard a string of loud expletives. Something or someone had angered Mister. At any moment, Melanie thought, he would burst through the door.
Maybe whatever reason he had kept her here was no longer valid. Maybe he no longer needed to. What was it Mister had told her? That’s up to your father.
Melanie held her head, which was now throbbing with tension. “Dad, what did you do?”
Something hard and huge bumped against the door. Then she heard the most awful scream. Mister sounded like he was having a nervous breakdown. She covered her ears and looked around her bedroom prison. What could she do that she hadn’t already thought of a million times? She thought, I’m not going down without a fight. She had watched enough CSI episodes to know all she needed to do was to get his DNA under her fingernails.
She closed her eyes and prayed.
As fast as the tornado outside her door had come, it grew quiet.
Melanie opened her eyes. She knew he wasn’t gone. What had stopped him?
She didn’t have long to ponder. The bedroom door burst open, slamming against the wall. Melanie got up from the floor and stood to face Mister, the bed in between them. She looked at the open door behind the man. If only she could get by him, out that door. It was her chance for freedom. She knew she had to be out somewhere deep in the woods. If she had the chance, she would take her last opportunity to escape among the trees.
Mister stepped into the room. His eyes were crazed, and he didn’t smell right today. Melanie subconsciously stepped back, knowing all she had behind her was a wall.
The man shook his head. “What am I going to do with you? Your dad couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep his mouth closed.” Mister threw up his hands and walked closer to her. “All these years and he suddenly got a conscience.”
He paced in front of her. The wide-open door behind him beckoned her to make a run for it. She looked down at the bed and then returned her attention to Mister. He stopped and pointed in her direction. The man was facing her, but his eyes didn’t seem to be focused on her. It was like he was having a conversation with himself and she was his audience.
“He took the money. Didn’t have a conscience back then. I told him to be careful and that none of this better get back to me. I told him.”
Melanie eyed the door, but she wanted to know what Mister was talking about. “Are you talking about something my dad did?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand why you brought me into it. Shouldn’t you deal with him?”
Mister smiled. That crazed look in his eyes scared her. What he said next paralyzed her. “I’ve already dealt with dear ole dad. He’s no more trouble.”
He’s crazy! She took one look at him and screamed, “No!” Melanie swerved as if she was going to go around the bed. Mister came around the other side. With all the strength she had in her body, she went back toward the bed and reached for the blanket. She threw the blanket at his head as he leaped toward her. She screamed as she felt his hand touch her leg. With all her strength she kicked hard, feeling her feet making contact with bone.
Melanie stumbled to the other side of the bed, crawled, and then sprinted for the door. She made it through the door, then ran past another bedroom, down a hallway, and into the living area. The front door was ahead of her, but before she reached it, she felt strong hands yank her backward by her shirt.
“No, no!” Melanie screamed and kicked. She swung her hands toward Mister’s face and dug into skin. He roared and pushed her hard. She fell against something hard, smacking the back of her head.
Melanie felt her body slide down to the floor as blackness overtook her.
Chapter Fourty-four
Summer was drawing near, and the daylight was stretching into the early evening. It had been a long day, but Wes had tracked down and interviewed several people who knew Eddie Gowins. He was looking forward to his last stop because he hadn’t seen these guys in years. Wes climbed the steps to the porch and approached James “Buddy” Waites and Pete Daniels, two original Southern Soul band members. These guys stopped playing in the band around the same time as Nick Roberts. A new generation of band members came in as replacements, but nobody had the chemistry of the original set.
“Well, I’ll be,” Buddy shouted from the porch chair, where he held a cold beverage. “It’s a treat to have Lenny’s grandkid visit us old fogies.”
Wes shook Buddy’s hand and then Pete’s. “I appreciate you guys letting me interrupt your evening.”
“No problem,” Pete said. “So to what do we owe this pleasure? I saw you in that magazine. Eligible bachelor? Please tell me some lady has snagged you by now.”
Wes threw his head back and laughed. He was not going to ever get away from that article. As he laughed, he saw Angel’s face in his mind. He took a seat on one of the vacant porch chairs as he answered Pete’s question. “Maybe. It would be nice. I think I’m ready to settle down and have a family.”
Buddy cackled. His voice was hoarse from years of smoking cigars, and from a short distance away, Wes could tell Buddy still enjoyed having one or two. “Well, that’s a good thing. In order for a marriage to work, you have to be willing to try it out.”
Pete shook his head. “That’s for sure. If you aren’t really ready, you might as well stay single. People get together in a hurry and then divorce faster than you can blink your eye.”
“I know your granddad will be proud of you. We’ve known you since you were this high.” Buddy held his hand to his waist. “With your granddad only having a girl, he was so proud to have his grandson. How’s Lenny doing these days?”
Wes cleared his throat. “He’s declining. Mom has decided to place him in the nursing home.”
Pete and Buddy nodded. They all remained silent for a moment. Wes knew with the guys being close in age to Pops, that was hard to hear.
“I have some questions about Southern Sou
l,” Wes said, breaking the silence.
Pete clapped his hands. “Sure. Ask away. You know Lenny and Nick Roberts started the band. Now, those two could jam. Nick strummed that guitar, while Lenny beat them piano keys.”
“All that was before my time. Pops left the group first.”
“Yeah, he got interested in the police academy. Told us he needed a real job to support his family.”
Both men laughed and then grew quiet again.
Wes said, “The last few times I talked to Pops, he seemed to be focused on the night he left Southern Soul. Do you remember it?”
Pete and Buddy looked at each other. Pete finally answered, “Lenny actually left because he and Nick couldn’t agree over a few changes in the group.”
Wes raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What changes?”
“We had lost our drummer. Nick met this young dude. He was really good, but he just didn’t fit in with us.” Pete rubbed his hand over his bald head. “He was just too young, a little bit reckless.”
Buddy grunted. “A whole lot reckless and impulsive. He was a charmer, but something about him always just rubbed most of the guys the wrong way, except Nick. Nick took up for him. Lenny just got tired and decided it was time to move on.”
Wes looked at the men. “This guy? He was Eddie Gowins?”
Both men nodded and looked off in another direction, neither focusing on Wes. He asked them, “What happened to the original drummer?”
Buddy sighed. “Levy was killed.”
Wes sat up. “Killed? Like murdered?”
Pete nodded. “Somebody stabbed him, left him for dead at his home.”
“Did they ever find the killer?”
Buddy shook his head. “Nope.”
“So how did Nick find Eddie?”
Pete shrugged. “You know, I don’t know. I think we asked him a couple of times. He just showed up, but he could play the drums. I will give him that.”
“How did the band feel about him opening Southern Soul Café?”
Buddy narrowed his eyes at Wes and leaned forward. “Is this what this conversation is all about? That restaurant burning over the weekend?”
Wes licked his lips. “Yes. There was a lot of memorabilia from the band. It’s all gone.”
“He had no right to most of those things,” Pete snapped back. “That’s what we didn’t like about him. We accepted him into a band that had been around over a decade before we let him in. Nick had a lot of that stuff in his home. Somehow, Eddie opened this restaurant and took over all of it like he owned it.”
Wes was starting to see another side of the jovial Eddie, whom he’d met just a few weeks ago, when he had lunch with Angel at Southern Soul Café. The older band members resented the man. He didn’t want to mention that Eddie was missing, since some of the information, Wes knew, the public didn’t know yet.
“You know what was really difficult to see?” Pete added. “Nick allowing Eddie to be such an influence over his little girl.”
Wes asked, “Are you talking about Elisa?”
Buddy nodded. “Yep. Elisa was a spoiled child, but she could sure bring tears to your eyes when she opened that mouth. I remember her singing as a small girl. Just took to being in front of an audience like water. Nick really encouraged her.”
Wes had really come to talk to the two former band members about Eddie Gowins and was surprised that the conversation had turned to Elisa Roberts. “I heard she had a record deal about the time she went missing. Did you know about that?”
Pete responded, “Nick had told us she was offered a deal. He wasn’t happy about it, though. I think by then, Nick was starting to see Eddie wasn’t the right person to be managing Elisa’s career.”
“Huh?” Wes wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. “Are you saying Eddie was Elisa’s manager?”
“Oh yeah, Eddie called himself managing a couple of young people’s careers. He was all about being a star and wanting to be behind the next big star.” Pete took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Wes rubbed his chin. “I came to ask you some questions about Southern Soul Café, but now you have my mind going in another direction. You mentioned that Nick was against the record deal. Do you think Elisa’s pursuit of a singing career had anything to do with her going missing?”
Buddy and Pete looked at each other. Finally, Buddy said, “We are pretty sure that when Nick let Eddie get involved in managing Elisa, he had no idea that the man was going to lead his daughter to her own demise. Eddie was a talker, a charmer, and he always had shady folks around him.”
Wes started to think about the body found at Southern Soul Café. Why was Larry Stowe there? “You guys, I have one more question. You said Eddie managed other people. Do you know if he represented any rap artists?”
Pete answered, “Yes, he had a lot of kids under him that rapped.”
Buddy leaned forward. “Eddie played with a lot of young entertainers’ dreams. But he let them down. Anything that Eddie did was always about Eddie.”
Wes took in all that he’d heard. Now he realized that Pops might have been trying to drop hints the past few weeks. He wondered if Pops had suspected Eddie all along but met resistance to the idea from Nick.
He had to get to Angel. They hadn’t talked since Sunday, but he needed her to know about the man she referred affectionately to as her uncle. Would Angel believe him, though? Remembering her reaction on Sunday, Wes hoped he wouldn’t push her away completely.
Chapter Forty-five
Angel kissed Grams on the forehead and then smoothed her hair. She wasn’t sure if it was her own mood or Grams, but they had had a difficult day. Grams had been extra frustrated by everything today; even Ella Mae couldn’t make her smile. Ella Mae had mentioned that her grandmother might experience depression from time to time. She was progressing well, but too slowly for the feisty Fredricka.
Angel said, “If you need me, I will be in my room. I’ll come check on you before I go to bed.”
She got up from the bed, but Grams grabbed her arm with her left hand, which seemed to be remarkably strong. Angel looked at Grams. “Are you okay?”
“Where’s Jacob?” Grams asked slowly.
Angel didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the first time Grams had asked about her son, and Angel was not sure what to say about her uncle. It seemed like Jacob had gone off the deep end. Angel was really worried about both Jacob and Eddie. She was hoping Wes would call to update her, but she realized she might have blown it with him on Sunday. He was a reporter, doing what he did best, asking questions. If it wasn’t for him, she probably would have never taken the plunge to meet her father.
Angel patted Grams’s hands. “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine.”
She wished Jacob would come clean about what was going on with him. Maybe he was out looking for a job, although she doubted it. His appearance seemed to grow worse each time she saw him. The clean-cut businessman had disappeared and had been replaced by a man who seemed lost and unsure of himself. Angel reassured Grams again by rubbing her hand. She took one last look at her before she left the room. Despite her condition, Grams seemed more worried about her son than herself.
Angel went to her bedroom and decided to check on the talent show videos. Angel pulled up the VidTube Web site on her laptop. With the fire and everything that was going on, she hadn’t been able to check on the talent show results. Did it even matter anymore?
There were well over fifty thousand views to the page. Wow! She scrolled through the playlist, and so far it looked like the competition was between the Christian rapper Shadrach and one of the female singers. Angel liked both of them.
She noticed a video had been uploaded this morning, but it had not been included in the contestant playlist. The funny thing was, it had half as many views as the videos that had been uploaded on Saturday, almost twenty-five thousand. Did Daniel upload this other video? She thought they had added all the contestants.
The video was title
d simply Southern Soul. She opened it. Oh no! Angel sat up, feeling panic rise in her chest. This was her singing with the band. Now she wished she’d never let Eddie talk her into singing in public. Her eyes scanned below the video, and she saw that there were comments. Lots of them. She read through the comments. The more she read, the more her nerves calmed down. Many of the comments were from well-wishers who loved both the Southern Soul band and the restaurant.
It brought tears to her eyes when she thought of all the history lost in the fire, but trying to look on the bright side, she remembered all the footage of the café she’d captured on Saturday morning. She’d spent a considerable amount of time there gathering B-roll for the documentary she was putting together as a tribute to her mother. Angel had managed to capture the photo of her mother that hung on wall near her favorite booth in the café and several of the band members on video. She’d derived a bit of comfort from watching the footage today. The phone interrupted her thoughts on what she might do to share these glimpses of the café’s interior with the fans.
Angel reached for her phone on her nightstand and looked at the screen. The caller was Wes. She answered the call on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Angel. Man, I’m so glad you answered the phone. I’m so sorry about Sunday.”
“Don’t be. I probably overreacted. I can do that sometimes.”
Wes laughed softly on the phone. “Well, I tend to ask too many questions. Look, I called to let you know some news. It’s not been released to the public, but since you were there on Sunday, I thought you should know.”
Angel held the phone tight. “You’re going to tell me they found someone in the fire.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t Eddie.”