"You knew they were involved?" Virgil asked.
"Yeah, me and Sin did. We tried to keep it quiet, because we figured Berni'd go off, like she did. Have you seen Wendy's eye?"
Virgil hadn't; hadn't seen anything of Wendy but the back of her head. He shook his head: "No."
Saarinen giggled: "She looks like she went six rounds with Rocky."
"How long were Wendy and McDill involved?" Virgil asked.
Saarinen glanced at the singer, then said, "A few days-since about… mmm… Tuesday. Maybe Tuesday. McDill and some other women introduced themselves on Saturday night, at the Goose, and they got to talking. McDill came around and watched us work on Monday, and on Tuesday, we were talking about PR and I realized that they'd been talking during the day, when the rest of us weren't around. You could tell something was about to happen."
THE BAND got to the end of the song, then played the end again, and again, and finally one of the engineers leaned into a microphone and said, "That's got it, guys."
Wendy pulled her headphones off and turned and spotted Virgil and did a double take, then grinned and said, "Hey, guy." She had a black eye as big as a silver dollar, startling under her blond hair.
"Wendy," Virgil said. "That black eye looks pretty interesting."
"You like it? We did a couple of publicity photos this morning. Might use it for the album cover."
THERE WAS AN EMPTY wheeled office chair pushed under the control board, and she rolled it over to Virgil and plopped down, with her feet overlapping his, their knees almost touching. She did it deliberately but good-naturedly, poking at him, to see how he'd react. He said, "I need to talk to you and the band about which one of you killed McDill."
That stopped her: "You know… one of us did it?"
"No, but you're the best I've got, and I've got to work with what I got," Virgil said, poking her back.
"Well, let me see… I guess it was Wednesday when we decided to kill her. I said, 'Girl, you gotta get it on. Gotta get the six-gun and shoot Erica McDill right in the ear.' " The smile vanished and she cocked her head: "So what in the fuck are you talking about?"
"McDill could have been killed for business reasons, but when I dug into that, I couldn't find any," Virgil said. "Most everybody needed to keep her alive. Her getting killed is going to cost a lot of people a lot of money. Then, I thought maybe her girlfriend did it-but her girlfriend needs written instructions to walk across the street, and I don't see her figuring out something this complicated. Then I've got a whole band full of people whose love lives are all twisted up, with you in the middle of it. A lot of emotion going around. People fighting in bars about it. Most of you are small-town girls, and I bet more than one of you has her own rifle, and could figure out how to get through that swamp into Stone Lake. That's how I figure it."
Wendy looked at him for a minute, then backed up to the control board. On the other side of the glass, the musicians were chatting as they took down music and put their instruments away, and Wendy pushed a button on the control board and said, "Everybody, come on in: there's a cop here who thinks we killed Erica."
IN A MINUTE or so, the room had filled with a half-dozen querulous women, none of them, with the exception of Berni the drummer, especially small. Virgil watched with interest as Wendy put on her outraged mask. It went on like a Halloween face, and Virgil thought, I've got a crazy one.
Not knowing exactly what was going to happen, Virgil eased to his feet as the women pushed into the control room, as though he were being polite; they brought the odor of overheated bodies with them, and he noticed that a couple of them were sweating, from the session just ended-harder work than it seemed.
Wendy said, "Well, he says one of us did it-who was it? Cat? Did you do it?"
"Not me," said the keyboard player. She looked at Virgil, storming up. "Did he say it was me?"
Wendy turned to Virgil, ready to say something, but Virgil snapped, "I didn't say it was anybody. But we've got a lot of women swarming around Wendy here, and Wendy was sleeping with McDill. You're where we look. Everybody who doesn't like Wendy, raise your hands: you can go."
They all looked at one another, and a couple of women flashed amused smiles. No hands went up.
Berni said, "You know, people could get sued if you go throwing these accusations around."
"If you think you see an accusation, sue me," Virgil said.
"Maybe we ought to kick your ass," the lead guitar said, and she sounded serious.
More quick glances, people checking to see how far this was going, and Virgil took a step to his right, to open the distance by three feet and to get his back against a wall. One of the engineers said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, we got equipment in here."
Virgil said to the lead guitar, "Well, roll it out, honey. Let's see what you got," and he said it with enough ice that he caught their attention.
"You think you can take all of us?" the lead guitar asked.
"I think so," Virgil said. "Maybe not. I'll have to hurt a couple people bad, maybe blind you."
"You're fuckin' crazy," one of the engineers said.
"I'm a BCA agent investigating a murder. If you guys take me on, I'll beat as many of you as I can, and all of you will be going to prison for assault on a peace officer, which is a felony in the state of Minnesota," Virgil said. "You think a murder is fuckin' funny, you should have come down and looked into McDill's dead empty eyes, the back of her head all blown out. She wasn't laughing. You want a couple of years in prison to think about that, bring it on."
That turned them off, quick as a light switch. The woman who'd been playing the violin said, "This is nuts. I've got nothing to do with this. I don't want to fight a cop. My dad's a cop."
"Pussy," Wendy said.
"Hey, you wanna come out in the live room and say that?" the woman snarled at Wendy.
The engineer, a burly guy with heavy-rimmed black-plastic Hollywood hipster glasses, pushed into the woman and said, "Get out of here. You're gonna start breakin' stuff, goddamnit. Wendy, that board's a hundred and fifty thousand and if you bust it, you pay for it; or your old man does."
"I'm outa here," said the violinist.
"Nobody's out of here," Virgil said. "I came here to interview you, one at a time. Take five minutes each."
"Outside," the engineer said. "Do it outside."
THEY WOUND UP doing it in the drum booth, Virgil sitting on the drummer's stool, the women, Wendy last, moving in and out of a metal folding chair.
Berni Kelly, who called herself Raven, drummer: "Like I told you the other night, I was by myself, but I didn't do it. I was home, waiting for Wendy. Her dad was there, over at his place, part of the time, anyway. I didn't see him-I saw his truck and I'm sure he must've seen mine. I didn't know about Wendy and McDill. I guess I was the last to find out."
"You're pretty upset?"
"Well, she's gone off before," Berni said. "She always comes back. But I was pretty upset. I mean, last night, I hit her as hard as I could."
"Pretty good shot, too," Virgil said with a grin.
"Thank you."
"You're back together?" Virgil asked.
"We are. Yes. Listen, I really don't have anything against you. I hope you find out who killed Erica, even though I didn't like her. Us guys got this rock 'n' roll attitude about cops, but it's a TV thing, it's not real. I'm on your side, really."
"What do you think about Zoe Tull?"
"I don't think about her," Berni said. "She and Wendy had a thing, but Zoe's so straight, Wendy couldn't stand it anymore. I mean, Zoe wanted to exchange Valentine's Day candy-heart boxes, for God's sakes."
CATHY (CAT) MATHIS, KEYBOARDS: "We could have taken you."
"Maybe-you had total weight on your side and you might have taken me down, but I would have hurt a few of you, and the more I hurt, the more room I'd have to go after the rest," Virgil said with a smile. "It'd be an interesting thing to try out, except that we'd have to hurt people to do it. If I didn't have the job I have, I'd be willing to try it out."