The Day Will Come

by Judy Clemens

“Shut up, Ricky,” LeRoy said.

  Ricky’s face closed, and he jumped up from his seat, dropping his sticks on a drum head with a clatter. “I’m outta here. You can all just shove it.” He stalked from the room.

  The room was silent until a scuttling sound betrayed Marley’s exit. Running off after the loser. Annie sat alone, her head bowed, her face shielded by her hand.

  “What about his drums?” LeRoy said.

  Tom looked at them. “Leave ’em. He decides to take care of his equipment, he can come back and get it.” He looked around. “Where’d Donny go?”

  I knew. He’d come barreling past me when Tom had turned to check out the drums. Now, I ducked out of the doorway and plastered myself against the wall in the front hallway, out of view of the rehearsal room. Tom was a nice guy, but I didn’t think now was the right time to get caught in his sights.

  I went out to my truck to wait for Jordan.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So how much does Annie know about the sound system?” I asked Jordan.

  We were driving back up from Philadelphia, Route 309 heavy with commuter traffic. I tried, mostly unsuccessfully, not to let it tighten my shoulders and make me want to scream with frustration.

  “Enough,” Jordan said. “She does the basic stuff I can delegate. Running to the storage room for parts, plugging things in, taping down cables.”

  “But not the more technical business?”

  He glanced at me. “No. That’s my job. Why?”

  I slammed on the brakes to avoid rear-ending a Navigator at the turnpike exit ramp. When we were clear of the jam, I shifted up and moved into the passing lane.

  “Cops talk to you yesterday?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “They’ll probably be calling again.”

  “Damn it, I didn’t do anything to Genna!” His face went almost purple.

  “I know, Jordan, I know. This isn’t about her.”

  His color changed from an all-over shade to blotches of red. “Then what’s it about?”

  “The bomb.”

  “The bomb?” The confusion on his face supported my theory that he knew nothing about it.

  “They found the bomb in the sound system,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Detective Willard told me. It was in a speaker.”

  He stared at me for a few moments until his confusion turned to surprise, and finally to understanding. “Now it makes sense.”

  “What?”

  “Why it shorted out at the concert. Remember, at the beginning of the second set we had that delay?”

  “Sure.” I’d been worried about Nick being gone for such a long time. But I didn’t want to think about Nick. “How could they set a bomb in the sound system that you wouldn’t find?”

  He smiled grimly. “Pretty easily, actually. It’s not like I was looking for something like that. A frayed wire, a disconnected plug…that’s what I was checking.”

  I passed a sluggish wood-paneled Explorer, and pulled into the slow lane. “So how would they do it?”

  He shifted in his seat so he faced me. “Well, there are a lot of self-powered systems these days where loudspeakers actually have amplifiers in them. Those amps have surge protectors with reset switches.” He stopped. “You know which loudspeaker it was in?”

  I shook my head.

  He paused, pursing his lips while he thought. “If they put it in the first loudspeaker in the signal chain, it could short out the signal or the speaker until the reset button is pressed on that first box. The whole chain would be silenced until that was pushed. We had no idea what was causing the problem, so we just started pushing all the buttons on everything until we got the signal back. I don’t know which one actually did the trick.”

  I swallowed. “You’re lucky you didn’t blow up in the process.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” He shifted back and looked out his window.

  “So you don’t think Annie could’ve done it,” I said after a while.

  “Nope. She’s a good helper, but could never do much on her own.”

  “Not smart enough? Or just doesn’t have the knowledge and skill?”

  He grimaced. “Do I have to choose one?”

  Rats. I’d thought I’d found a way to get the heat off Jordan. At least for the bomb.

  “What more can you tell me about Tom and the guys?” I asked.

  He set his elbow against the door and leaned his head on his fist. “Tom knows enough about sound he could do it on his own if he had time. LeRoy and Donny probably do, too. But Tom wouldn’t set a bomb. None of the guys would.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting it.” A group of Harleys sped past us, their thunder shaking the windows of the truck. When they were gone I said, “What I really want to know is how the guys feel about Tom.”

  He looked at me sharply. “They love him. Everybody does.”

  “Even Ricky?”

  He snorted. “Ricky doesn’t love anybody. Except himself.”

  “But LeRoy and Donny?”

  He hesitated. “What’s this about?”

  “I was thinking about what you said. About Tom being the songwriter. He also seemed to be the boss today, everybody looking to him to say when things were good enough. Is it always like that?”

  “It needs to be. You can’t have a good band if you don’t have someone to keep things on track. And it should be him. It is the Tom Copper Band, after all.”

  “How come?”

  “How come what? That it’s called that?”

  “Yeah.”

  He considered this. “I’m not sure. But it’s been that forever. I always assumed he’d put the band together. And he is the lead singer.”

  I slowed to navigate a crowded downhill curve. “Donny didn’t seem too happy at the end of practice. He looked pissed, actually.”

  “Why shouldn’t he be? After hours of practice in that hot warehouse Marley still sounds like crap and Ricky’s still an asshole.”

  Well, there was all that.

  “Plus, I think he’s…” He stopped.

  “What?”

  He wrinkled his nose, then rubbed it. “I think he’s feeling responsible for the whole thing with…with Genna. And Ricky.”

  “What? Why?”

  He sucked on his lips, then let out a breath. “He’s the one who brought Genna into the band.”

  I looked at him. “Explain.”

  “He met her at…well, at a bar, back several years ago. Actually, like eight years ago or so. She was only nineteen. One of Tonya’s friends.” He paused.

  “And?”

  “And he liked her. She apparently liked him, too, at least for a little while. But by the time they were ready to call things off Tom had heard her sing, and he offered her a spot in the band.”

  “Bet Donny didn’t like that too well.”

  “Actually, from what they all say it worked out fine. Genna and Donny were never so close as a couple that it caused a problem. They ended up being okay friends.”

  Uh-huh. I’d heard that before.

  “And how did Ricky come into things?”

  He blew out a huff of air. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

  “I would if you’d answer my questions.”

  He was silent as I waited for a darkened limo to pass before I pulled into the left lane and went around a little Fiesta that was blowing smoke.

  “About a year ago Parker said he was leaving,” Jordan said. “Just all of a sudden. Freaked the guys out pretty bad. Genna stepped in, said she’d just met a guy who played the drums. Thought they could give him a try.”

  “Ricky.”

  “Yup. They invited him to audition, and unfortunately he kicked butt. They were pretty psyched.” He shook his head. “I think it was partly desperation, and partly Genna’s influence, but he did seem like the answer at the time.”

  “And how long did the honeym
oon last?”

  He glanced at me. “You mean with the band?”

  “Or with Genna.”

  “Not very long for either.”

  We reached Montgomeryville and had to stop at the light at the end of the expressway. I looked at Jordan, taking in his fatigue and misery. His color had now completely reverted to pale and pasty, and he sat slumped against the door.

  “What’re you going to do now?” I asked.

  “You mean this evening?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sighed, puffing out his cheeks. “Go home. Try to find something to eat. I don’t know.”

  A flicker of guilt at the neglect of my farm shot through my mind, but I ignored it and hooked a thumb toward the theater complex across the road. “Still matinee prices. Want to take in a movie?”

  His eyes slanted toward the list of what was showing. “Anything not depressing?”

  I scanned the titles. “The newest Jack Black movie. Something about nuns, dogs, and hang-gliders.”

  “Not a romance?”

  “Does it sound like it?”

  He grinned. “Okay. Let’s go.” He sat up straighter in his seat. “And I’m buying the popcorn.”

  ***

  After dropping Jordan off at the North Wales train station to pick up his car, I headed home. He’d offered to treat me to dinner at the Olive Garden after the movie, which I would’ve been a fool to turn down, so it was close to ten before I got home. Tess was in bed and Lucy lounged in her pajamas, half watching Boston Legal while she wrote thank you notes for early wedding presents.

  “Nick called,” she said without looking up. “Wants you to call him back.”

  My stomach tightened. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Where have you been?” She set down her pen and leaned her head back on the couch.

  “With Jordan.”

  “Need supper?”

  I shook my head and held up my doggie bag from the restaurant. “Jordan’s treat. I think he just didn’t want to go home and face reality any sooner than he had to.”

  She studied my face. “I’m glad you could give him some company.”

  “Yeah.” I hesitated behind the couch. “Everything okay here? Nothing I need to know about?”

  “Nope. Everything’s good.” She picked up her pen again. “Nick said you could just call his cell phone. He’ll keep it on.”

  I took a deep breath, but didn’t answer. Instead, I made my way to the stairs, Lucy following me with her eyes.

  “I’ll use the phone in my room,” I said.

  “Sure. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  I went upstairs, where I got undressed for bed and brushed my teeth. The phone sat on the nightstand beside my bed. I looked at it for a while.

  Then I turned out the light and tried to sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucy joined me in the barn the next morning after getting Tess on the bus and helped with the last bit of mucking out. She didn’t say much, but cast lots of curious glances my way. When I’d about had my fill, she finally spit it out.

  “So what did Nick have to say last night?”

  I stashed my pitchfork in the corner and headed toward my office. “Nothing.”

  It was true.

  In my office I sat at my desk and turned on the computer. I’d been so busy worrying about non-farm crises this week I’d left the paperwork too long. I was going to be racking up late fees if I didn’t get my ass in gear and pay the bills.

  The door opened and Lucy came in. “I’m going to get started in the parlor.”

  I looked at her. Hadn’t we just finished?

  “The guys are coming to spray this morning,” she said. “Remember?”

  Nope. Hadn’t remembered.

  A glance at the calendar confirmed it. It was time for our yearly dose of bug spray, to keep down our barn’s population of flies, spiders, and other various winged and multi-legged annoyances. It made a huge difference in our comfort level while milking, especially during the hot summer months. The cows’ comfort, too.

  I sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

  “No rush. We have a little time till they get here.”

  After she left I took about a half hour to pay the piper, cringing each time I hit the “submit” button on the computer screen. I’d have to keep last night’s movie and dinner in mind for quite a while—I wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon. Unless someone else paid again.

  The phone rang as soon as I went off-line, and I snatched it up reflexively. It was only after I said hello that I realized it could be Nick.

  “Stella?” A woman’s voice. Good.

  “Yeah, this is Stella.”

  “This is San. San Powell? Genna’s sister?”

  “Oh. Sure. Hi, San.” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my feet out in front of me, arching my back.

  San’s voice was quiet, and timid. “I’m trying to find Jordan. Have you talked to him today?”

  “Nope. You tried his house?”

  “I did. I got his answering machine.”

  “Did you leave a message?”

  “Yes. I asked him to call me.”

  So if he was there, he was screening his calls. And didn’t want to talk to Genna’s sister.

  “You tried his cell, too?”

  “Yeah. Not on.”

  Big surprise.

  “Nothing else I can tell you, then,” I said. “I haven’t talked to him since yesterday, and he didn’t give me his plans for today.”

  She sighed so loudly I heard it over the phone. “How was he?”

  “Not good. But he’ll make it.”

  “Did he…did he mention me?”

  I pulled my feet back under me and sat up. “No. Sorry.” Should he have?

  “That’s okay. If he…if he calls you, could you tell him I’m looking for him?”

  “Sure. He has your number?”

  “Yeah. He has it.” She hesitated. “It was the same as Genna’s.”

  Oh.

  “Well, thanks,” she said, and hung up.

  A lot of help I’d been.

  I pushed away from my desk and went out to the parlor, where Lucy was busy covering the water cups and feed bowls with plastic. I grabbed the tape and began securing the openings on the ones she’d done. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she was dying to know what was going on with Nick and me. The tension of her unasked questions hung in the air between us, and I wasn’t about to break it. I knew her curiosity wasn’t from nosiness. She really cared about us. But that didn’t matter.

  The milk truck pulled up outside, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the excuse to get away. I could feel Lucy’s eyes on my back as I left, and knew the respite would be a brief one.

  Doug, the driver, didn’t need my help, but I hung out with him anyway, discussing the weather, the cows, his kids’ spring soccer. He didn’t know Nick, or anything else about my personal life. Probably didn’t even know Lucy was getting married that weekend.

  It was pleasant.

  But all too soon he was packing up his equipment to head back out on his route. I was standing outside, watching him get into the cab, when the phone rang. Once. Twice.

  Doug looked at me.

  “Lucy’ll get it,” I said.

  She did.

  Doug was driving out the lane when Lucy appeared in the doorway. “It’s Nick.”

  I kept my eyes on the back of the milk truck, focusing on the happy, milk-drinking cow on the door.

  “Take a message,” I said.

  Lucy didn’t move.

  “Please,” I said.

  “You’re sure?”

  I didn’t respond.

  She left.

  I felt like shit. Almost ran after her. But didn’t.

  A minute later she was back. “I told him you were outside helping Doug. That you’d call him back when you could.”


  I nodded. Feeling even more like shit because Lucy had lied for me.

  “The parlor’s ready,” she said. “The guys should be here before too long.”

  “Thanks. I’ll watch for them.”

  She wanted to say more. I could feel it. But she walked away, toward the house.

  I went back into my office and went on-line. Firefox opened, bringing me to the AskJeeves bar. I stared at the blinking cursor, my head aching. Finally, I typed in “multiple sclerosis,” hoping I was spelling it right. I must’ve been, because I got thousands of hits.

  The first on the list was the MS Society. I clicked on it, and got to a screen where there was more information than I ever thought existed. And more than I ever wanted to know.

  But I read it.

  I learned about symptoms, medications, support groups, charities, and prognoses. I saw photos, read testimonies, and studied diagrams.

  I still felt like shit. But I also felt better educated.

  I stood up and walked to the window, stretching my back. Lucy was in the garden, pulling weeds from her rows of peas and radishes. Probably picking lettuce for lunch.

  Not that I was hungry. I wondered if Jordan was hungry yet.

  I went back to the desk and clicked back on the AskJeeves bar. I typed in “Tom Copper Band,” and again got thousands of hits. Within the first few was their official web site, and I took some time checking it out.

  There was all the stuff you’d expect: reviews of their albums, praise from other musicians, dates and ticket information for upcoming events. The photo album contained pictures from their concerts, as well as shots of them with other high-profile musicians: Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Train, Aerosmith. Bands they’d opened for on the road.

  A truck pulled into the lane, sending Queenie into a barking fit. I peeked out to see the bug spray guys unloading themselves and their equipment. Lucy was heading their way from the vegetable plot, slapping her gardening gloves together. She caught sight of me in the window and waved me back. She’d take care of the instructions. I was glad to leave her to it.

  I sat back down at the computer and checked out the band’s bio page, which explained their beginnings. A photo of them as youngsters, Parker included, looking cool and…well…hot. I wasn’t surprised they’d had groupie girls following them everywhere. The text told about their start at Temple University. A bar band until they were discovered by—I blinked in surprise—Gary Mann.