When Hell Freezes Over

by Rick Blechta

  I whistled, Shannon blushed enchantingly, and the girls all clapped.

  “You look totally different. I swear I might walk right past you on the street and not know you.”

  “It’s amazing how little it takes to look completely different. I’ve used a disguise as simple as a reversible jacket and a hat, and the person I was tailing never spotted me after the change.”

  One of the girls asked, “Are you a copper?”

  “Used to be. I’m a private investigator now.”

  “Cool!”

  I expected Shannon to laugh at that, but her face showed her thoughts were a thousand miles away.

  Suddenly, she was all business as we paid for the new clothes, and the girls were very disappointed when she hustled me quickly out of the store. I did promise to have some tickets sent over, hoping they’d come instead of their parents.

  Outside in the corridor, I could feel her quivering with excitement.

  “What is going on?” I asked.

  “You Brits use a term when you’ve been clobbered by something right out of left field.”

  “Gobsmacked?”

  “That’s it.Well,Michael, I’ve just been gobsmacked but good!”

  “About what?”

  “I think I’ve figured out where our Giovanna is, and boy, do I feel like a fool!”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I’m right—and I’m willing to bet the farm I am—then I spent my time in Birmingham talking with her!”

  “You mean Maria...”

  Shannon ignored my question. “I should have seen it. There are a lot of little things that point in that direction, but I was so snowed by her performance I simply never noticed.”

  “Shannon! What are you talking about?”

  “Gia is Maria.”

  "What?

  “It all suddenly fits. I just needed your comment about looking different to see what was in front of me all the time.”

  We found a quiet corner in the food court and sat down, Shannon with her back against the wall and her eyes constantly scanning our surroundings as she spoke, ticking off the points on her fingers.

  “I felt really sure I’d find her in Birmingham. The drug shipment must have left the country from there. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Since both groups of bad guys are still after you, it seems neither has what they want: drugs or money. Why hasn’t Giovanna retrieved them and disappeared for good? Well, maybe she can’t. Maybe they’re someplace too dangerous for her to try.

  “Now, here’s one of the clues I missed. When I interviewed her that first day, there was a table near the front window of the sitting room completely covered with photos. An awful lot of them were just the two cousins. They look very much alike but also different. Maria has light brown, very curly hair, and in most of the photos it’s cut fairly short. Giovanna’s is dark, long and wavy. Maria also wears glasses. Get past that and they look very similar.

  “My guess is the real difference between the cousins was their different natures. Gia is a classic risk taker. You know all about that. She’s more outgoing, probably brighter, too. You can see it in the photos. Maria’s a mouse by comparison. Some guy will come along and marry her; she’ll live a quiet life, be a good mother, respected by her her community. Gia will chew the world up and spit it out. With all I know of Gia’s abilities, it would be child’s play for her to impersonate her cousin.

  “Lastly, when the mother arrived home, Gia-slash-Maria hurried over to her and seemed quite agitated. They spoke rapidly in Italian and looked over in my direction several times. Shortly after, Maria hustled me out of the house. I am such a dunce not to have seen it!”

  “So you’re saying that was Giovanna posing as Maria and staying with her—do I have this straight—her aunt? Isn’t that kind of farfetched? Why would the aunt go along with this?”

  “That’s one of the things I’m dying to find out. The whole scenario I’ve outlined to you is admittedly far-fetched, but it does work. What other explanation is there?”

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m driving down to Birmingham.”

  “Why would you want to drive?”

  “Because, dear Michael, two people sitting on the far side, pretending to be enjoying pots of tea, are definitely keeping an eye on us. Don’t turn around!”

  “How long have you known?”

  “I had a feeling when we first got here, but I couldn’t make them until we went into that last clothing store.”

  “Which group of bad guys?”

  “Neither. They’re cops.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  Shannon gave me a disgusted look.

  “So why do you want to drive?” I asked again.

  “Because I don’t want anybody to know where I’m going. How long will it take to drive there?”

  “Five hours, if you don’t hit any traffic or bad weather on the way.”

  “Perfect.”

  “There should be a map in the glove box.”

  “Even more perfect.”

  “If you lose your tail, won’t they get suspicious and put out some sort of bulletin on you?”

  She flashed a naughty smile. “Then I’ll just have to make it seem like they lost me by accident.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “That depends. Keep your cell phone on. I’ll call when I can.” She looked across the table at me, a serious expression on her face. “Those two over there may be cops, but you still have to be on your guard for the bad guys. They must be getting pretty desperate. Don’t take any chances.”

  We stood and Shannon made a big display of kissing me. Not being used to the sort of life I live, she hadn’t thought of paparazzi being nearby, but fortunately there were none.

  “You know, this is a pretty hare-brained plan you’ve come up with. If you have discovered Giovanna, what are you going to do with her?”

  She shrugged. “I’m making this up as I go along.”

  ***

  Once inside the arena, I was immediately swept away by the juggernaut that is a major concert production. Today was the day for media interviews, and they also recorded a short clip of the band playing. Finally, the riff-raff cleared out, and we got down to the serious business.

  The rehearsal the evening before had galvanized everyone in the group, and things that day went even better. The lighting had been rejigged yet again, with more effects turning up, including some rather nifty lasers which bounced all over the roof at the climax of the show. Someone had put in a lot of hours setting up all those mirrors.

  As soon as we hit the last note, Rolly disappeared offstage. “Another interview,” he told us, rolling his eyes as if he didn’t enjoy doing them.

  It was no surprise that he’d become completely swept up in the whole publicity thing, conducting innumerable interviews via phone, email, fax and in person. But then, he’d always been the public face of the band, and he was welcome to it in.

  John and I kept our heads down, tweaking the arrangements whenever and wherever we could.

  “You’re bloody confusing the hell out of me!” Lee complained after the break, during which John had yet again completely changed the guitar and bass parts to one of the songs. “Give me a bleeding break here, mates!”

  John clapped him on the shoulder. “Lee, old man, it’s called imagination and hard work, neither of which you know much about. Let me show you once again how it fits together. It isn’t that complicated, and it will surely impress the fan who comes to see you.”

  In the past, Lee might have threatened to put out John’s lights for a comment like that.

  Twenty-four years on, he just laughed and got in a dig of his own. “You always had a bleeding big head, and it’s gone and got bigger with all that studio work. Tell me, when you fly, do they make you buy an extra seat for it?”

  ***

  When we took another break late in the afternoon, I went off by myself to clear my head. Things w
ere going smashingly, and I finally felt we were going to acquit ourselves very well.

  The foyer of Braehead arena looks out over the River Clyde. Across the way are docks where they build ships for the Royal Navy. You couldn’t see much, because night was already falling, as was a bit of snow. For the first time since I’d entered the arena that day, I thought of Shannon, who should have been on the outskirts of Birmingham by now.

  Footsteps approached behind me. I turned to find Rolly.

  “You’ve been keeping yourself scarce, mate.”

  “It’s not my doing, Rolly, honestly. Shall we just say my life is a bit complicated at the moment?”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself if you want to be mysterious.” For a bit, we both looked out at the few boats chugging by on the river. “The band sounds pretty damn good.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I think Angus would be very pleased.”

  Sadness washed over me. “And he would have liked to be here. We always were his favourites.”

  Rolly turned to look at me. “You know, it’s funny how life turns out. All those years ago, we had the world by the nuts, then everything went into the crapper.”

  “You, most of all people, should know why that is, Rolly,” I said, but with no heat, no accusation. I’d finally moved beyond that.

  “Why didn’t you talk to me before you walked, Michael? Why wouldn’t you talk to me over the years? I used to be your best mate.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t, Rolly. What happened in your room that night in Chicago made it crystal clear what we’d become: so carried away with our careers that a human life didn’t even matter. I didn’t want to be a part of that any more.”

  Rolly looked stunned. “You mean it was that thing with the girl?”

  “That’s a pretty casual way to put something that awful!” I said with my anger rising.

  “Jesus Christ, Michael! I’ve always thought it was the crap we’d been putting you through. You know, the partying and not taking our music—or you—seriously. And now you’re prattling on about that girl. Sure, it was a tragedy and all that...”

  I started having an almost out-of-body experience as Rolly continued talking. As clearly as if she were standing next to me, I could hear what Shannon had said the night before in the Holiday Inn, and I knew that it was time to ask that question I’d feared for so many years.

  Eyes and ears open to pick up any nuance, I held up my hand to stop the flood of words. “Did you kill her, Rolly?”

  His eyes bugged out, and his mouth opened and closed a few times, giving him the look of a beached salmon.

  He was finally able to gasp out, “You think I killed that silly cow?”

  I made no response.

  “Just what the fuck did Angus tell you about what happened?”

  “He told me that the girl had freaked out and ran into the bathroom, where she slipped and fell.”

  “So Angus never told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  Rolly walked away a few feet, shaking his head, and it was easy to see he was quite upset.

  “Oh, lord, I can’t believe this is happening!” he shouted, then turned and came back. “Angus had to pull her off me. That girl went ape shit, screaming that I was trying to rape her. That was all bollocks, of course. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. If I hadn’t been so out of it, she wouldn’t have got the drop on me. By the time Angus responded to the commotion, she was beyond gone: screaming, kicking, scratching, biting. She almost yanked my effing tackle off!

  “You know how big Angus was. I remember him coming in and plucking her off me as if she was no more than a bleeding pussy cat. He took her into the bathroom, and a moment or two later, she quieted right down. He came out and asked me if I could help him move her, but I didn’t know what he meant. I was too far gone by that time between the coke and the booze, and I think I’d done some pills, too. I couldn’t remember my own name too clearly.

  “Angus told me to stay put and went to fetch you. I remember you going into the bathroom with him and not much more.”

  I looked long and hard at Rolly as we stood there. He returned my gaze unblinkingly, and I found that I believed what he’d told me.

  “You’re right, Rolly,” I admitted sadly. “I should have talked with you sooner.”

  “I’ve had nightmares about it for years.”

  I shook my head with disbelief, and answered simply, “So have I.”

  “Angus told you it was an accident? I suppose it could have been. She was that out of control.”

  “We’ll never know now, will we?”

  Rolly looked at his watch, a Rolex and probably fake. I suddenly felt very sorry for him, trying to carry on all these years, get a second chance at snagging that brass ring. It was all rather pathetic.

  “We should be getting back inside,” he said. “They’re probably wondering what the hell’s become of us.”

  “You go in. I need a few more minutes to absorb all of this.”

  “I need a drink!” Rolly said as he went through the door back into the arena.

  I needed some fresh air, so I went into the passageway that ringed the arena under the raised seats. Halfway around was a large room leading to the loading dock. I went out there and sat on a box.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Here Neurotica was doing a concert to honour the man who’d done us the most damage possible.

  I was surprised when a car wheeled around the corner. Probably some shopper who’d made a wrong turn trying to get out of the car park. It pulled over at the far end of the dock where the stairs were.

  Two men got out of the car. The hairs on my neck stood up. I looked at the doors into the arena, only to see them open and two more men step out.

  My luck had finally run out.

  I was too far away from anyone to yell for help, and there was nowhere to run, so I just waited. The two groups met in front of me.

  “Is this him?” one of the blokes from the car asked. An American.

  “Yup,” One from inside the arena answered, also American. “Saw him on TV last night.”

  “Get up!”

  When I didn’t move, they yanked me to my feet.

  One of the Americans stuck his face into mine. “We have someone who wants to meet you.”

  With them holding my arms tightly, we started moving along the loading dock.

  Suddenly, behind us, someone shouted, “Oi! You there! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I turned my head and said, “It’s all right, Tommy. Just go inside. I’ll be in shortly.”

  Thomas Higgins had grown up on the same streets I had, so he knew a good frog march when he saw one. Being big himself, he thought he could stop it.

  It was a brave act, but ultimately foolish. As I was forced on, two stood and waited.

  Tommy did knock one down with a hard left to the head, but the other was ready, and I saw his arm go up and heard the cosh come down on the back of Tommy’s head with a sickening thud. He dropped like a stone.

  The arm was going up for another blow when I yelled out, “Bastards! Leave him alone!”

  The one with the cosh stopped, then helped his mate to his feet.

  They left Tommy lying on the concrete. Alive or dead, I didn’t know.

  Twenty-Nine

  Shannon was pretty pleased with herself as she sped down the M6 towards the Midlands.

  Midlands? Damn! She was sounding more and more like a Brit with each passing day.

  As she’d pulled out of her space in the Braehead parking lot and slowly made her way to the exit, it hadn’t been hard to pick out her tail. She must have been pretty low on the surveillance ladder, because they’d sent out amateurs, who made two faux pas before they even got to the M8.

  Since this road led downtown, it would be logical she’d take it, so they suspected nothing. The tough thing was to make her losing them seem like an accident. Shannon’s chance came
when she passed a big transport in the middle lane as an exit approached. She was in the inside lane, and at the last possible moment, she swerved around the transport (causing him to lean hard on his horn), shot across all three lanes of traffic and down the exit ramp. Her tail had to drive helplessly past.

  To them, it would seem as if she’d almost missed her exit then done something stupid to get off in time.

  By the time she’d made it halfway to Birmingham, she was feeling like an old hand with this left hand driving trick. Also, Brits drove very fast, something she enjoyed.

  With only two errors, she made it to the street of rundown row houses where she’d met with the girl whom she’d suspected now was Giovanna Vennuti.

  As luck would have it, Signora Rota was home.

  “Si?” she said upon opening the door.

  “Hello. I was here the other day speaking to Maria. May I come in and speak with you?”

  She was dressed in black like many older women in traditional Italian families and suddenly wary. Her English was heavily accented but fluent. “What do you want?”

  Shannon flashed her most engaging smile. “Like I said, to speak with you.”

  “I do not have time. I am busy.”

  Shannon leaned forward. “You should make time. I either speak with you or I speak with the police, tell them what I know. It’s your choice.”

  “The police? Why the police?”

  “It’s about your daughter.”

  Now the woman definitely looked scared and stood aside, indicating that Shannon should enter.

  She was shown into the same sitting room, but this time Shannon looked around with different eyes, having figured out how the magician’s trick worked. The clues were on the table near the window.

  Shannon walked over and picked up the large white frame in pride of place at the table’s centre: Maria. The photo showed a pretty enough girl of around sixteen with short brown hair, an enigmatic smile and eyes behind her glasses that spoke of a modest intelligence. There were certainly wheels turning in her head, but she seemed to lack something. The other girl who shared many of the photos with Maria, however, seemed to exude something more vital, as if the sun shone down on her with greater intensity. She had the world by the tail and knew it: Giovanna.