“Anyone taller than Ben,” Mike remarked. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t eliminate many suspects. In fact …”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence. They could all see that Earl was almost a foot taller than Ben. Standing on the piano bench, he could have reached the light with ease.
“Ben tells me he fiddled with the light before rehearsal, an hour or so ago, and there was no corpse there.”
Earl nodded. “Right. I remember.”
“After rehearsal, Ben tells me there was only about a ten-minute break between the time he left the stage and the time he saw you outside.”
“I ’spect that’s right.”
Mike took a step toward Earl. “Mind telling me where you went after you left the club?”
“Well, I—I—” Earl’s lips went dry, and he seemed to be having trouble speaking. “I—”
“We’re waiting.”
“I went for a walk. Outside.”
Mike’s voice acquired a definite edge. “You went for a walk? Just before the show?”
Earl licked his lips. Beads of sweat were beginning to trickle down the sides of his head. “I—I was lookin’ for Lily. She hadn’t shown up yet and—”
“And you thought she might be walking around outside?”
“I thought she might be lost or somethin’. I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought. I just had to move.”
Mike folded up his notepad. “And let me guess. You were all alone during this walk. No witnesses.”
“Well …” Sweat continued to drip down his face, his chin. “I—well—”
Mike bore down on him. “Yes?”
“It’s like—I mean—”
“Let me get this straight. This is your club. You had access to the place where the body was found. You’re tall enough to reach the light fixture. And you’re the only one who seems to know the victim.”
“Well, I guess—”
Mike leaned into his face. “Are you sure there isn’t something more you’d like to tell me? Like maybe the truth!”
“I’m tellin’ you I don’t know what happened!”
Mike let out a disgusted snort. “Yeah, right.” He motioned to his assistant. C’mon, Tomlinson.
As they started off the stage, Mike called back, “Oh, and one more thing, Uncle Earl.”
Earl stopped in place.
“Tonight you give some real serious thought to coming clean and telling me the truth, understand? And whether you do or you don’t, I’d recommend you get a lawyer. You’re gonna need one.”
“A lawyer?” Earl raised his hands. “A lawyer?”
Ben squirmed uncomfortably. “It might be a good idea.”
“A lawyer?” He stared at Ben helplessly. “I can’t afford no lawyer. Where am I gonna get a lawyer?”
Ben looked away, not saying a word.
Chapter 10
BEN STOPPED MIKE before he left the club. “Bit hard on him, weren’t you?”
Mike didn’t blink. “That’s my job.”
“What are you, a policeman or a terrorist?”
“I’m obligated to get facts out of people who customarily start out telling lies. Or embroidering the truth. I have to break through the deception somehow. And I’ve found the most effective way is to instill the fear of God. Or penal sanctions, at the least.”
“Seems brutal.”
“But it works.”
“Not tonight it won’t. Earl didn’t do this.”
“Says you.
“It’s true. I’m sure of it.”
Mike looked at him wryly. “But when the man freaked ’cause I told him he needed a lawyer, I noticed you didn’t jump to his rescue.”
Ben’s head dipped. “That’s different. I don’t practice anymore.”
“Not even for a friend in need?”
“Look, I’m trying to put that behind me, okay?”
“Like hell. You’re trying to pretend it never happened. These guys don’t even know you’re a lawyer, do they?”
Ben shook his head. “And I prefer it that way.”
“Don’t you think you’re carrying this a bit far?”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“You haven’t told me what soured you after your last big case, true. But I can guess. I may know you better than you know yourself. And this I can tell you: it’s time for you to stop running and hiding and trying to be something you’re not.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”
“I don’t enjoy seeing you crawl under a shell any better than anyone else. You know what G. K. Chesterton said.”
“You know perfectly well I don’t.”
Mike held up his quoting finger. “ ‘Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.’ ”
“Very clever. And I gather I’m the camel?”
“Tell me something, Ben. Now that you’re a musician again, is it like back in the old days? Back when we played the college clubs and pizza parlors?”
Against his better judgment, Ben decided to be honest. “Not really.”
Mike nodded. “Of course not. Thomas Wolfe was right, my friend. You can’t go home again. You can only go forward. Take it from me. I spent years rehashing those blissful days when I was married to your sister. Actually, they were only blissful in retrospect, but memory plays tricks. I’d sit around all day thinking, Poor me, I lost the only woman I ever loved and we never had the child we dreamed about. But living in the past doesn’t do anybody any good. Took years, but I’ve finally put her behind me. I hardly even think about Julia anymore.”
“Is that right.”
“Here’s to the future. That’s my motto.” Mike clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Sorry to hassle you, kemo sabe. I realize you’ve had a hell of a night.”
“It’s been a nightmare,” Ben agreed. “They don’t get much worse.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mike said. “It could probably be worse.”
“No way. Not possible.”
“You shouldn’t say that, Ben. You never know.”
“Believe me,” Ben said emphatically. “Nothing on earth could possibly make this night any worse.”
Mike smiled. “Your mother is here.”
Ben dragged himself to the backstage green room, dreading every moment. Not that he minded seeing his mother, exactly, but it seemed about par for the course that she would come the night a corpse dropped onto his face.
He found her in the green room, sitting on the piano bench beside Scat. Ben’s eyes widened with amazement, and for more than one reason. For starters, he didn’t know Scat played the piano. And for another—his mother was singing!
“ ‘It had to be you …’ ”
Could this really be his mother? Her voice was sweet and smooth, like a swan sailing across a pond. She nurtured every syllable of every word, giving each phrase a twist that was both affecting and—Ben blanched at the thought—seductive.
Ben couldn’t believe it. He had never heard his mother sing, except for long-ago lullabies and car songs. He didn’t even know she could sing. But she could. Boy, could she ever.
Well, he couldn’t see interrupting. The cops were leaving them alone; so would he. He found a chair and sat quietly.
“ ‘It had to be … you.’ ” She drew out the last syllable for about a million beats, finally letting it dwindle to nothing as Scat laid his fingers down on the last rippled chord.
Ben stood and burst into applause. Scat and his mother both whirled around.
“Benjamin!” Her hand rose to her mouth. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt. I guess you two have already met.”
“Aww, Benji, Benji, Benji.” Scat pushed his shades up his nose. “Your sweet mama and I go way back.”
“You do?”
“ ’Course we do. How come you never told me your mama is Lillian Kincaid?”
Ben’s expression seemed frozen in place. “You—know my mother?”