"Just calm down, man. It's not what you think." He held out his hands to block Reese's blows. "Come on, let's try some deep breathing." He inhaled a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
"I'm not doing your sissy yoga shit, Deering," Reese said, seething. "I quit—I don't need this job if it means working for a sorry sack of crap like you." He slammed his fist into the wall right by Parker's head, causing my boss to jump nearly a foot in the air.
"Fine," Parker huffed. "Go. Get out. But don't come crawling back next week wanting your job back."
"Take a walk, Martin." Kat tried, a little softer this time. "But don't even think about taking this fight into High Court. You wait until she's off work, you hear me?"
"This isn't over." Reese glowered at Parker before storming off in the direction of High Court's backstage.
Kat was the first to notice me standing there. She sprinted over and snatched the two six-packs of beer from my hand. "Here." She walked over and thrust them into Parker's hands. "Take these to the green room—and then you and I need to have a talk."
"Katy, wait!" Parker pleaded, but she turned away from him. With a resigned sigh, he took off down the hall.
I stared after him, confused. Why did he call her Katy?
"Reese won't really quit. He's our only bouncer, and he needs this job." Kat's voice was hoarse. I glanced her way, taken aback by the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"K, what's wrong?" I rushed toward her, but she held up a hand to keep me away.
"We'll talk later, okay? I just can't do this right now." She whirled around and started down the hallway after Parker, sniffling.
O…kay…I was dumbfounded and frustrated. It felt like I'd stumbled onto the set of a soap opera starring all of my friends. Why would Reese pull a stunt like this tonight of all nights? Between arguing with Bobby's manager and this, Bobby Glitter Week was going to leave a sour taste in Parker's mouth. And after how hard I've worked…I felt a lump form in my throat. Screw it. I need a break.
I wandered downstairs, welcoming the rush of chilly night air that hit my cheeks as I pushed open the venue's back exit. Alone at last. I closed the door and leaned into it, pressing my forehead against the cold, smooth surface.
I puzzled over what I'd just witnessed upstairs. Parker and Reese were fighting over Laura—at least I thought so. Reese had warned him to "never come near her again." Had Parker done something to—or with—Laura before?
Then there was Kat. First, she wouldn't spill about her mystery beau from this afternoon, then she was disinterested in the sexiest man to walk through Castle Rock's doors in months—which was seriously out of character for her—and now she was in tears because of…what? What was going on with her that she wasn't telling me? And why did Parker call her Katy? I'd never heard him—or anyone—call her that before.
I flipped around to lean my back against the door, and I stared out into the empty, open courtyard. The vast green lawn stretched on for at least a quarter-mile and was enclosed by a grey ashlar wall that matched the structure of the castle. Alternating hickory and maple trees lined the wall. They were my favorite part of the courtyard, especially during this time of year. In the spring and summer, their leaves made a solid wall of vibrant green, and the winter left the branches bare and brittle. It was in the fall, however, that the trees gave their most breathtaking display. The red maple and orange hickory leaves danced in the wind like a moat of fire hovering above the castle wall.
When they needed a break, most of the staff chose Piedmont Park, which was only three blocks away. Not me—this felt like my own private park. I often took walks along its perimeter when I needed an escape from the constant ringing of my office phone. Sometimes I'd pretend that this was my castle and courtyard. I'd pace the length of the fence, mapping out in my mind the additions I would love to make. Lately, I had been envisioning an outdoor stage along the wall, facing inward to the lawn. While the capacity in either High Court or the Dungeon was one thousand, we could easily fit up to two thousand or more people in this space. This would allow us to book bigger, better acts and maybe even double our business. I'd been working up the nerve to share the idea with Parker—and if I could get everyone through Bobby Glitter Week without killing each other, maybe I could finally pitch the idea to him during my annual review. A smile curled my lips as I daydreamed about the small music festivals we could host out there.
Sometime later, I could feel the bass and the roar of the crowd vibrate through the door as the band returned to the High Court stage for their encore. One show down. Two to go. I sighed. It felt good to finally have a few moments to myself, just me and my thoughts in this dark and peaceful space. A noise somewhere above me drew my attention to the sky. The stars were suddenly blocked from view as a dark object fell from the heavens—no, it was falling from the rear tower. What the…
Time screeched to a halt as the shape of the dark, falling mass came into focus. There were arms with open palms and splayed fingers—and legs, eerily limp even as they moved downward in a rapid free fall…In the moonlight, I could just make out a head of thinning chestnut hair…
Parker Deering's body careened into the flat ground of the loading dock with a sickening splat a mere fifteen feet from where I stood. The horrible sound of bones crunching upon impact sent my lunch on a mad dash back up from my stomach.
I doubled over and retched.
Then I screamed.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Let's go over everything one more time, Miss Grace. Try to think of anything you might have forgotten or left out before." There was a hint of apology in the detective's tone. He knew that asking me to rehash the past two hours again was pushing me to my limit.
I took my time in responding, giving him a dazed nod as I stared out of my office window. The crowd from tonight's show had long since cleared out, and the media circus was held at bay by the dozen or more officers that had sealed off the venue with yellow police tape. All that remained were Bobby and his crew, Tim and Tony from 95Rox, the Castle Rock staff, and officers from the Atlanta Police Department. We were each ushered into separate areas of the building to give the detectives our accounts of the evening while other officers investigated the crime scene out back…Crime scene? It felt wrong to call Castle Rock such an ugly name. I watched the flashing lights cast sinister shadows that danced across the row of police cars outside. Might as well get this over with. Taking a deep breath, I launched once again into the details of the horror I'd just encountered.
"I've told you everything I know," I began. "I was watching Bobby Glitter's set in High Court until just before the encore—that's when I grabbed some beer from the bar to take back to the green room. I ran into Reese and Parker in the hallway."
"Where they were fighting," the detective prompted.
I gulped. "Yes. I mean no. They were having an argument, but that's all it was—just a little disagreement. Nothing more. Reese would never lay a hand on Parker…"
My voice trailed off as the memory of Reese's fist slamming into the wall next to Parker's head flashed in my mind's eye. His words echoed in my thoughts: "If you touch her again, I'll kill you," he'd said. "This isn't over." Of course he'd only spoken those words in anger—it wasn't a real threat. Reese would never do Parker any harm…would he?
Swallowing hard, I continued. "Kat broke up their argument,"—I turned away from the window and gave the detective a pointed look as I emphasized the word—"and she took the beer from me. She gave it to Parker and sent him off to the green room to put some distance between Reese and him—so they could both cool off. That was the last time I saw Parker until…" A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn't go on. Fresh tears came. I averted my eyes from the detective's sympathetic gaze and stared at the floor as I silently wept.
The detective, whose nametag read "Dixon," jotted a few lines onto his notepad and cleared his throat. "Can you tell me again in which direction each person was headed when you last saw them?"
I rubbed
my eyes and sniffled. "Reese, Kat, and Parker were all headed down the back hallway towards the High Court green room and the stairwell. Those stairs lead down to the other employee hallway and the exit—and also up to the tower. That area is off limits to our patrons, so there was nobody else around. I don't know where Kat or Reese went off to—I only know that Parker was going to the green room… "Another sob racked my body, and I broke down.
Dixon scratched his red beard and rose from his chair to come kneel beside mine. "Hey now, it's okay, Miss Grace," he said, giving me a reassuring pat the shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. You've been through a lot tonight, but everything you've told me could help us find out what happened to your boss. I really appreciate your cooperation during such a difficult time."
"I think she's had enough for tonight, Detective," came a voice from the doorway. I wiped a few tears away with my sleeve and glanced up. Sergeant Eddie Sinclair, Bronwyn's father, stood just beyond the office threshold.
"Thanks," I said weakly, meeting his eyes.
The police sergeant smiled at me and nodded his bald head. He shuffled his burly frame through the doorway and spoke to the detective, his voice low and serious. "Dixon, I need to have a word with you in the hall. Please excuse us a moment, Amelia."
Though his lips were still stretched wide in a polite smile, there was no merriment in his eyes. Eddie had been a good friend of Parker's for several years. They spent the weekends restoring classic cars together in Sinclair's home garage. It took all summer and most of the fall for them to restore a beautiful, black 1974 Jaguar Roadster. Parker had talked about how excited they both were to finally test-drive it next month. Now Sinclair would be making that journey solo.
Detective Dixon excused himself with a grunt. He followed Sergeant Sinclair out into the hallway and closed the door behind him…almost. In his haste to exit the room, the detective didn't realize that the door hadn't pulled to behind him. Instead, it remained cracked open just wide enough for their conversation to be audible.
"Ben, it's a damn shame," Sinclair said. "According to CSI, there doesn't appear to be any sign of a struggle upstairs. We haven't found any kind of note yet, but the preliminary evidence suggests a potential suicide. Looks like he may have jumped from the tower."
A current of shock coursed through me, and my hand flew to my mouth. Parker committed suicide? No! He couldn't have—he wouldn't! Parker was way too in love with himself to take his own life—and it wasn't like he was depressed. He had a pretty great life. He owned the hottest concert venue in Atlanta, got to work on classic cars in his spare time, was an avid runner and yogi. People like Parker didn't just leap off of towers.
He had been acting weird lately, though, I realized, recalling his new ladies' man schtick and those awful shirts. The old Parker never would have ordered those slut-tastic tees. Maybe he was going through a mid-life crisis and just couldn't handle it anymore. No. I didn't believe for a second that he would have jumped on purpose. Judging from the hurt and uncertainty in Eddie Sinclair's voice, I was pretty sure he didn't either.
The fall must have been an accident. I couldn't recall hearing Parker yell or call out as he fell, but I was so traumatized when I realized what was happening that my mind was already trying to block out the memory. When he'd hit the ground, I'd stood there in shock for a few moments before bolting back into the hallway, where I'd collided with Kat and Reese. I remembered that Kat had still been crying. In that moment, though, all I could do was plead in between my own sobs for Reese to call 911. I suddenly found myself wondering what had her in tears.
"We'll wrap up here for tonight just as soon as we have a statement from everyone," Sergeant Sinclair was saying to Detective Dixon. "Then we'll clear out. I've already sent the media packing. Go ahead and have Simpson seal off the upstairs." He blew out a breath. "I've gotta go back in there and break the news to Miss Grace that we're shutting down Castle Rock while forensics collects evidence—"
Consider it broken.
Close down Castle Rock? For how long? My grief was replaced by panic. They couldn't do this now—not during Bobby Glitter Week. Even amid tragedy, my instincts to keep the venue running kicked in. Before I could stop myself, I was on my feet and storming into the hallway, where I caught both officers off-guard.
Both armed officers.
I bolted through the doorway, screeching like a banshee, "You can't shut us down! Not now!" My sudden unexpected appearance in the hallway startled both men, and in the blink of an eye, the boys in blue had their guns drawn and aimed directly at me. Gulp. I shrank back behind the door, throwing my hands in the air in surrender. "Sorry! Sorry!" I squeaked. "Please don't shoot!"
Realizing there was no real danger, both officers slowly re-holstered their weapons. "Er…reflex," Dixon muttered sheepishly.
Sinclair was not amused. His face burned a deep crimson, and with his bald head, mustache, and bulging arms, he reminded me of an angry cartoon character—like I'd just pissed off Mr. Clean. All that was missing was steam coming out of both ears and that high-pitched teakettle whistle. "Amelia Grace!" he thundered. "You do not ambush armed officers like that—you could have been seriously hurt! And you were eavesdropping on classified information in a police investigation. I could throw you in jail for that."
It was my turn to be red-faced and angry. "Not my fault!" I cried. "Your detective didn't shut the door all the way—I couldn't not hear what you were saying! What was I supposed to do? Shove my fingers in my ears like a frickin' five-year-old? Start singing 'Lalalalalala! I can't hear you?'" I placed my hands over my ears and stamped my feet to demonstrate just how foolish that would have been.
As I was stomping around, the officer who was interviewing Kat in her office opened the door and poked his head out into the hallway. "Uh, you guys need backup?" he asked, eyeing me with a confused expression. Dixon shook his head, and the officer shrugged then retreated back into Kat's office. The slam of the door echoed down the hall.
Dixon winced. His eyes darted to my open office door, comprehension of his mistake fully dawning on him. I watched with some satisfaction as an Oh shit look formed on his face. He hung his head guiltily. "Sorry, Sarge. The door didn't catch when I pulled it to…this one's on me."
Owning up to his mistake after I'd just thrown him under the bus was way more respectable than taking me down with him. I felt a little guilty for placing the blame on Dixon. Regardless of who was to blame, I wasn't going to let them shut down Castle Rock without a fight.
The Sergeant narrowed his eyes first at me then at Detective Dixon. He sighed and threw his hands in the air in resignation. "Alright, fine. Amelia, you're off the hook for now, but it would be unwise to repeat anything you may have heard. This is still an open investigation. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal." I forced back my temper and gave him a pleading look. "Sir, with all due respect, Castle Rock can't close down now. I'm sure Bronwyn's told you that it's a really big week for us—Bobby Glitter Week. We have two more sold-out shows scheduled, and they're shooting Glitter's tour video here, too. There's no room to postpone the shows, and refunding thousands of tickets could put us under." Growing misty-eyed, I added, "Parker's gone, and this place is his legacy. Please don't take it away from us."
Sinclair grimaced. "I'm afraid I have to." He shook his head sadly. "We need the entire second floor and the tower to remain undisturbed until our forensics team wraps up their investigation. At the very least it will be forty-eight hours or so before I can let you all back up there."
Forty-eight hours? I glanced at my watch and quickly did the math. It was now two in the morning on Tuesday. Bobby's next set was scheduled for Wednesday evening at nine o'clock, but he and the band would need to do another sound check at five, and doors would open at seven…that just wasn't enough time. I opened my mouth to protest but was cut off by a cry from down the hall.
"Ugh! Dad, come on! You can't shut us down!" came a whiny plea from around the corner. The three of
us whirled around—thankfully with no guns raised this time—to see a small face framed by short pink hair peeping at us from around the corner. Uh oh.
"Bronwyn Rebecca Sinclair!" the sergeant bellowed. "Get your ass over here now!" Bron shrank back around the corner with a frightened squeak as her father continued to yell. "Just what do you think you're doing, young lady? This is official police business!" The officer from Kat's office peeked out into the hallway again and raised a curious eyebrow. Sinclair shot him a withering look before throwing his hands up again, exasperated. "Is there no place in this building to have a private conversation?"
I cleared my throat and gestured to my office. Sinclair followed my gaze. His jaw clenched. "Dixon, excuse us a moment while I have a word with Miss Grace and my daughter," the sergeant ordered gruffly. Dixon reluctantly moved aside, and I followed the sarge into my office, with Bronwyn scrambling after us. Sinclair gave his detective a pointed look as he made a show of slamming the door to ensure that it was closed. I could see Dixon's face redden through my office window. He'd certainly never make that mistake again.
"I am gonna be so grounded," Bronwyn lamented under her breath. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she said in what I called her "cotton candy voice." It was light, airy, and sweet. I suspected she'd used it often to get out of trouble with her old man. "Officer Thomas told me I was free to go, and I was just coming to find you to take me home. I only heard that last part about shutting down Castle Rock, I swear!" She looked up at her father and innocently batted her lashes.
"You just can't shut down Castle Rock, this week, Daddy," she pleaded with that sugary tone. "If this puts the venue under and we have to close permanently, I'll be out of a job. Then I won't be able to afford college, my car payments, or my phone bill. You'll either never get me out of the house or I'll have to get a job on the streets just to make ends meet," she wailed dramatically. "Then I might end up in prison, or a strip club, or dead in that ditch that Mom's always talking about…you see where I'm going with this, right? Don't you want better for your only daughter than becoming another sad teen statistic?"
Murder at Castle Rock Page 5