by Rick Blechta
Mrs. Cathcart again didn’t seem overly pleased to see me. We talked for a few minutes about nothing in particular, then she said she’d take me out to the barn.
She called it a “century barn”, and I could see what she meant. Under the coat of red paint, the wood appeared weathered and split, and the roof line was not straight. They had been wise not to sheathe the building with siding, though. It had character this way.
“We still have livestock down below, you know,” Mrs. Cathcart told me. “Helps keep the building warmer and moist so the timber doesn’t dry out. Hope you don’t mind the noise—or the smell.”
Grabbing keys from a hook beside the door, she went out without bothering to put on a coat. Tough old bird. Her two dogs piled out with us, romping through the snow like pups.
We tramped through old footsteps in the snow, and I stole a few quick glances out over the barren, windswept fields. About a half mile away, among a clump of firs, a few ragged wisps of smoke drifted up. The nearest farmhouse. The city lad in me shivered, whether from the cold or the desolation, I couldn’t be sure.
After opening the padlock holding the two large doors together, Mrs. Cathcart pulled back one, reached inside and flipped on a light.
“This is it. Hope your truck can make it back here. Shovels are over there if it gets stuck. After you’ve unloaded your equipment, please usethe smaller door around the side. You won’t let out as much warmth. It costs a ton to heat this place for more than a few hours at a time,” she sniffed.
The upper part of the barn was one enormous room. Opposite, on the long back wall, there was a hayloft (with hay bales!) that came about halfway out into the room. The entire interior had been insulated, but only the lower area had been drywalled. A few grimy windows let in some light from outside, but not much for the size of the room. Four bare bulbs hung down from the peak of the roof. Gym equipment and mats were scattered willy-nilly at one end, leaving the opposite end wide open, except for some gardening tools and a couple of old lawn mowers. Shannon had been right; it was perfect for my needs.
Johnny didn’t arrive until one, having had to hump all the keyboards by himself because Kevin was M . I . A . with car trouble, and Hamed was still at the movie shoot. Shannon’s two kids got home from school shortly after, and Robbie insisted on helping. He proved surprisingly strong, digging out the van when it got stuck and humping more than his share of equipment. The effects of having a full gym in one’s barn, I suppose.
***
I stood up slowly, carefully stretching the kinks from my back. Now I remembered why roadies are a very good idea—even if they can be a pain in the arse at times.
Robbie popped his blond head from behind the organ. “Could you check to see if I’ve connected it right?”
He had, and now all I had to do was fire everything up and get the balances adjusted. The time for putting off the hard work was over. No more excuses.
The two of us stood back and surveyed our handiwork. At one end of the O’Brien family barn stood a classic keyboard rig: Hammond C3 organ with two Leslie speakers, Yamaha Clavinova (minus the real piano for the Neurotica gig), a Wurlitzer electric piano, four synths, two vintage Hiwatt stacks, and the pièce de résistance, my Mellotron MkII. All right, I’ll admit to being an equipment junkie. It goes with the territory.
“Cool...” was Robbie’s response, and that was equally good.
As Robbie and I stood admiring our handiwork, Rachel came inwith a teapot, two cups and hot chocolate for her little brother. She’d been hanging around the periphery while her brother and I worked. I could tell she wanted to be part of it but didn’t want to be caught doing something “uncool”. Such was the price of being her age, I suppose. Ten years from now, she’d do what she wanted, not what she thought she wanted.
We sat among the gym equipment. Rachel and I shared a bench while Robbie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of us.
The hot liquid felt good going down. No matter how wellinsulated the big old barn was, it still let in a lot of cold air. It was rather silly to insulate the whole space, of course, but the sixty-foot room did have a certain grandeur to it, carpeted with tattered broadloom as it was. My keyboard rig at the far end looked as if it belonged. Wonder what the cows would think when I cranked it up? Right on cue, one mooed down below.
After we finished the drinks, Robbie jumped up and said he’d come out here to do his homework if I didn’t mind. He wanted to hear “all these cool instruments.” After a moment of hesitation, Rachel said she’d do the same,“to make sure my creepy little brother doesn’t bother you.”
While they were off in the house, I got everything fired up and adjusted, figuring I’d give them a full dose of what I’d brought. The side door creaked, my cue to start playing my little overture of Neurotica’s hits that I’d been messing about with.
Both kids stood with their mouths hanging open—even if it was uncool. Yes, I had turned the amps up quite high, which helped the effect, but in that old barn, even I was forced to admit my playing sounded pretty damned impressive. I’d show those naysaying journalists who wondered why I had agreed to play after so many years. “Time has moved on, and Quicksilver having been out of the game for so long, has surely been left in the dust.” Ha!
As I worked for the next two hours, it was kind of cute watching the kids watching me. Robbie didn’t try to hide his interest, but Rachel constantly stole glances at me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Shannon came home about seven and came right out to the barn. “Look, Mommy, I’ve done all my homework!” Robbie said bouncing up to show her.
Rachel made a face and began closing her books with a world-weary weary effort to her movements.
“Go wash up for dinner,” Shannon told them, then walked over and watched as I shut everything down. “If I’d known you’d have this sort of effect on Robbie’s schoolwork, I’d have invited you here weeks ago.”
She actually had a dress on, and I shot a quick glance at her very nice legs. The full effect, though, was ruined by the fact that she’d donned some old wellies for the journey out to the barn.
“Important business appointment?” I asked.
“Court appearance,” she answered, making a face. “I had to testify against an employee who was robbing his boss blind. Ugly, ugly case.” She smiled at me. “But I’m glad to be home.”
As we crossed over to the house, I said, “I get the feeling that your mum has some problems with me being here. Do you think it’s going to be cool? I don’t want to create any waves.”
Shannon stopped and turned. “Ever since my marriage broke up, she’s felt she has to be my protector. I think she may view you as an evil influence from my teenage past. Don’t forget you’re an unreformed rock and roller!”
As she turned to look up at me, her amused face outlined by the light at the back door, I felt something shift inside, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I quickly buried it as Shannon turned, and we continued toward the house in silence.
Nineteen
For the next three days, I tried to stay out of the house as much as I could for two reasons: first, I simply did not want to be underfoot, especially with Mrs. Cathcart casting baleful glances my way, second, I was really enjoying making music again. Ideas had started flowing, and I’d moved past simply practising to working on new material.
The big bummer came when the recordings from Rolly arrived— especially the ones I’d never played on. I’d asked for the original multitracks so I could hear exactly what had been done, and from that I’d be able to decide what I wanted to change. Trouble was, I’d forgotten I no longer had my laptop, so I didn’t have the software to play back what Rolly had sent on the discs.
Mrs. Cathcart had trudged out to the barn with them. “I have to feed the animals and collect the eggs anyway. It’s not much trouble.” Her expression didn’t give me that impression, though.
On her way over to the door in the floor which led down to the animals
, she cast a very long gaze at my multi-headed hydra of keyboards, her expression unreadable.
I stared stupidly at the package of discs for a long time, wondering how much lower my bank account would have to drop before I saw an end to this mess. The insurance company was giving me a hard time about my laptop, because I hadn’t specifically put it on my policy and couldn’t lay my hand on the receipt for the moment, so that meant shelling out for a new one.
After an hour on my cell phone, I had everything pulled together. My computer store of choice on Queen near Broadview would give me a package deal on the computer and software, which made the expense a little more bearable, and I’d arranged for Kevin to bring it out, along with a replacement for one of the synths which had developed a rather annoying sixty-cycle hum.
My stomach was making ominous noises when Mrs. Cathcart stuck her head in the side door.“I’ve just made fresh soup and biscuits.Would you like some?”
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Shannon had insisted on me joining the family for dinner every evening, so I knew what a good cook her mum was. I didn’t need to be asked twice.
During the meal, Mrs. Cathcart delivered a rambling dissertation on her youngest child, which I suppose was meant as a lecture. I found out a lot about Shannon and what made her tick. Her dad and uncles hadn’t wanted her to be a cop. She had become one. Her dad hadn’t liked what he’d seen and heard about her choice of husband. She’d married Rob anyway. You could see a mum’s pride in her daughter, but you could also sense the frustration.
Eventually, she got to the crux of the matter. “My daughter is becoming interested in you, Michael. I could not bear to see her hurt again. What are your intentions?”
I had no idea how to respond. Mum had obviously seen a lot more than I had. Yes, there was a little “chemistry” between Shannon and me, but that was only natural. She was pretty, and I very much appreciated her agile brain. And I was her high school crush.
“Mrs. Cathcart... I really have to tell you that I have no, as you put it, intentions towards your daughter. I’m her client. She’s loaning me a place to practise. Our relationship does not extend past that.” I took my dishes over to the sink and looked out the window for a moment. “Has she said anything to you?”
“Heavens no! She doesn’t have to. I know Shannon’s moods, no one better. Quite frankly, I’m not happy about you being here. All Robbie talks about is you. And don’t think I haven’t noticed Rachel going out to the barn to watch you. Now come back here and sit down. I don’t like talking to your back, young man.”
That made me smile. Mrs. Cathcart was little more than twenty years older than I. Young man, indeed! I did sit rather smartly, though.
“You’ve wormed your way into our family.”
“I have not been trying to do that.”
“But it’s happened nonetheless.”
“Are you trying to say that you want Shannon to get back together with her husband again?”
“That horse’s behind! Absolutely not! My daughter was a fool to marry him, and now that she’s finally clear of him, I have no wish to see them back together.” Her eyes bored holes into me. “Once you leave for England and this concert of yours, what’s going to happen then?”
Another question from left field, as the Yanks say. “I really don’t know.”
“Exactly. How do you think Shannon is going to take it if you decide to start up your musical career again? She can’t go out on the road with you. She has a business to run and two children to raise.”
“I haven’t even said that I returned this...this affection you say your daughter has for me. Heaven knows, she hasn’t said anything to me about it.” I got up from the table again. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about any of them getting hurt. I will make sure they all understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” As I put on my jacket for the dash to the barn, I added, “Thanks for the meal.”
“It was my pleasure. And let’s keep this little talk between us, okay?”
Back in the barn, I couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. The enjoyment of playing had completely evaporated with that “little talk”.
***
Kevin arrived with the replacement keyboard and computer late in the afternoon. I made excuses to Robbie why I wasn’t playing, and Rachel was looking at me very curiously indeed. I wondered if she had any idea of what her grandmother had said.
I did have a good excuse not to be playing, actually. The new tracks Rolly had sent were worse than I’d imagined. The parts my replacement, Drew Baines, had played were really quite bad. I picked at one of the songs without much enthusiasm. Eventually the kids left me alone. I wasn’t a fun rock star that day, I guess.
Mrs. Cathcart had really stuck a fork in me. Quite frankly, I now realized how much I’d been enjoying being around so many people on a day-to-day basis. The family had grown on me. Obviously, I’d have to pull up stakes yet again—only this time it was not really my choice.
Shannon came out as usual to let me know when dinner was ready.
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
She walked over to where I was sitting on one of the weight benches. “Michael, is something wrong?”
“It looks as if I may have to go to the UK sooner than I’d planned.”
“Oh.”
Knowing what I did then, the expression on Shannon’s face was quite telling.
“I got the tracks from Rolly today, and the new tunes are worse than I expected. If we’re going to do any of them, it will take a lot more rehearsal than I thought.”
“So when do you leave?”
“As soon as I can get things squared away here.”
“Do you want me to leave some dinner in the oven for you?”
“I’ll be all right, thanks.”
“Mind if I come out to talk with you later?” Before I could answer, she added, “It’s business.”
For the next hour or so, I made another attempt at working on the newer Neurotica material without much more success, so when she returned, I was sitting at the electric piano, playing a bunch of rambling nonsense to pass the time. She dragged a chair over and sat just outside the ring of keyboards, watching.
Finally I’d had enough. Best to get it over with. “So what do you need to tell me?”
“I spoke to the cops again today. They’ve looked in all the known places for those two local boys but haven’t been able to come up with anything. DCI Campbell has also been in touch with them. Nothing from those fingerprints I sent to Scotland, but they’ve identified your friend from Birmingham from the video. He’s a thug with a bad reputation and long record, name of Martin Bradley.”
“Any news of the girl?”
“Nothing. My guess is she’s gone to ground somewhere.”
“That’s just great. We’ve made zero progress.”
“That’s a bit unfair, Michael. We’ve—”
Just then, one of the big outside doors blew open. I had forgotten to put the padlock back on after Kevin had dropped off the synth and computer that afternoon. Shannon got up to close it, and just as she stepped outside, she gave a muffled yelp and disappeared.
I had barely squeezed out from behind the keyboards when three people I really didn’t want to see unless there were a lot of cops around stepped into the room. Shannon’s limp body was slung over the shoulder of the last one in, the one they said was crazy.
Martin Bradley spoke first this time. “Hello, lad. We came to have a bit of a talk.”
I didn’t answer, because the gun in his mitt had my complete attention.
Staring down the barrel of a gun is not the best situation in which to start being a hero, so I didn’t bother putting up a fight. Even so, the bastard belted me in the stomach, and when I doubled over, he landed a good one on the side of my head.
Bending down, he hissed in my ear. “That was for all the trouble you’ve been causing me!”
Not able to catch my breath, and with my head ri
nging worse than the bells of St. Mary’s, it was easy for them to drag me to the far end of the room, throw me on one of the benches and fasten my hands and legs to it with plastic cable ties. They’d come prepared.
They tossed Shannon down like a sack of potatoes and fastened her to one of the weight training machines in the same fashion. That showed me she was still alive.
Things looked pretty bleak for the good guys. Taking a cigarette pack from his pocket, Bradley lit up, as he stood grinning down at my helplessness. After a long drag, he said, “It would have been much easier for all concerned if you’d accepted our invitation that first night, mate. And there wouldn’t have been a lot of messy involvement with others.”
“Let her go. She’s done nothing,” I said, indicating Shannon with a movement of my head.
“Bollocks! We’re not as dim as all that! She’s seen us. She used to be a cop. I’m sure we’d be doing a lot of people a favour if she joined you where you’re going.”
“If you don’t let her go, I won’t tell you anything.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.” And with that, he touched the glowing end of his cigarette to my forearm.
I bit my lip to keep from making any noise, but my eyes bugged out with the effort. Bradley’s ugly face grinned down at me. He knew what I was feeling.
“That’s just a taste, lad, just a taste. Still think you’re going to hold out on us?”
I’ll admit I’ve never been more scared in my life. No matter what I told them, it wouldn’t do any good. I was going to die, and Shannon too, and there wasn’t a thing to be done about it.
Shannon began to come around. There was a lot more moaning than there is in the movies, none of this waking up, realizing you’re in trouble and pretending you’re still out so you can attack the bad guys when their attention is elsewhere.