Firebreak: A Mystery (22 page)

When they reached the stage they could see that Mick was holding a cable where he was apparently attempting to set up his sound system. Jim stood between Mick and the speaker and was yelling something that had to do with Billy. People milling around the dance floor were migrating that way to check out the argument. One of the patrons, wearing a cowboy hat and a black concert shirt that read
BILLY AND THE OUTLAWS
, yelled, “You tell him to get the hell off the stage, Slim. He oughta have more respect than that.”

“This is bullshit!” someone else yelled.

Josie followed Otto through a door to the left of the stage and walked out to stand between Slim Jim and Mick and the people on the dance floor so they could have a semiprivate conversation.

“What’s going on, fellas?” Otto said.

“This son of a bitch is up here about ready to do a sound check! These folks came out to pay respects to Billy. They’re hurting right now. We all are.” Slim Jim choked up and had to stop and take a deep breath. “We want a little respect.”

Josie faced Mick. “We actually came out here this morning to talk with you. You mind if we go back to the dressing room for a minute?”

He threw the cable he was holding onto the floor. “I got a job to do. I’m on the schedule this morning, and this is the only time I can make it today. I got people coming to town from Nashville to watch the band tonight.”

“You aren’t playing tonight.” Slim Jim said the words through clenched teeth.

“Like hell I won’t! I got a scout coming to hear the band. You know how hard it is to get someone from Nashville to travel all the way to West Texas? You had your break and you—”

Slim Jim raised a fist and reared back. Otto raised his own hand and stepped directly in front of him. Slim kept his hand in the air for another moment and then dropped it to his side.

Josie broke in. “Otto will talk this over with Hank. He’ll take into account Billy’s death and the schedule and what needs to be done for the crowd. He’s the owner here, not you guys. His decision stands.” The men stared each other down until Mick finally turned and walked back toward the dressing room. Josie took off after Mick and figured Slim Jim would follow Otto to take up his case with Hank.

Josie entered the dressing room and was pleased to see the other two members of the Calloway Boys: bass player Craig Wells and drummer Tim Holton. She had arrested Craig for possession of marijuana about a year ago. He gave her a crooked smile and tipped his head at her, looking vaguely embarrassed. Craig was a stereotypical doper with heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy smile, and slow speech. He was also an awesome bass player who’d been asked to tour with several big-name stars, most recently Kenny Chesney. Craig had notoriously turned down the offers, claiming allegiance to the Calloway Boys.

He sat on a tattered couch in the corner of the room with a binder and what looked like sheet music spread out on a large coffee table in front of him. Josie walked over and shook his hand and said hello.

Josie knew the drummer, Tim Holton, fairly well. He was sitting on a chair next to Craig, playing his drumsticks on his thighs. She and Tim worked out at the high school gym in the evenings on roughly the same schedule. Josie had talked to him about applying for the evening dispatch job when the job opened up in a few months. He had seemed genuinely interested. In his midtwenties, Tim looked more like a clean-cut engineering student from Texas Tech than a drummer for a country band. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a shirt buttoned almost up to his neck. He smiled and said hello when Josie reached out her hand to him.

She turned to see Mick standing in what appeared to be the kitchen area. Hideous kitchen cabinets from someone’s seventies kitchen remodel hung on the wall and a burnt-orange countertop ran the length of the wall and was cluttered with junk. The rest of the room appeared to be a jumbled mess of accumulated stuff from the various bands that played at the Hell-Bent.

Josie said, “I appreciate you talking with me, Mick.”

“You know what bullshit this is? Do you have any idea how much more talented our band is than Billy and the Outlaws ever thought of being?”

“Dude,” Craig said. “He just died, man. Lighten up.”

Mick turned on him. “We got a shot this weekend. Right? We might finally catch a break, and Billy screws us over again.”

“Dude, seriously.”

“I’m not kidding. Only Billy could orchestrate his death so perfectly as to screw me out of my chance to leave this little corner of hell.” He kicked a plastic chair and it clattered across the room as his band members exchanged looks that appeared to say,
Here we go again
.

“When was the last time you were at Billy’s house?” Josie asked.

He slowly turned around and tilted his head as if he’d not heard her correctly. “What did you say?”

Josie repeated her question.

He laughed, wide-eyed and openmouthed, looking at his band members like he couldn’t believe the question. Tim looked toward the door as if he was considering leaving.

“I told you.” Mick said each word distinctly.

“Look, Mick. I get you’re upset about your band not getting your big break, but being a smart-ass isn’t going to help anybody. Two men are dead. One man was murdered, the other committed suicide. I’m going to ask as many questions as I need in order to find out who killed Ferris Sinclair and why Billy decided he needed to end his life.”

She had their attention. All three band members looked shocked, presumably at the news about Ferris.

“What do you mean who killed Ferris?” Mick asked.

“Ferris Sinclair was found murdered in Billy’s home.”

“What the hell?” Mick said, barely whispering the words.

“Now, please answer the question. When was the last time you were at Billy’s house?” she said.

Mick’s glare softened somewhat and the fists at his sides unclenched. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before continuing. “Vicki and I delivered a couch there a while back.”

“Give me a month.”

He sighed as if frustrated with the question. “I don’t know. February, maybe March.”

“So, not too long ago. Were the Nixes home when you delivered the couch?”

He looked surprised. “I don’t remember. We deliver stuff all the time, all over the place.”

“Think back to that day when you took the couch inside. Was Billy there to greet you, tell you where to put it?”

“No, I don’t guess so. They just left the door unlocked for us.”

“Did you look around?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Josie noticed the other two band members staring intently at Mick, waiting for his answer.

“No! We just dropped the couch off.”

“You’re sure? Because Vicki might remember it differently.”

“What the hell are you getting at?”

“Did you look around the living room? Maybe look at the pictures on the wall, open up some boxes sitting on the end tables, check things out.”

Mick evidently considered what Vicki might have to say, because his expression changed. He smiled, ready to laugh it off now. “Come on. You can’t help looking at somebody’s pictures hanging on the wall. That’s what they hang ’em up for. It’s not like I went room-to-room snooping through the house though.”

“Did you open any boxes? Open any drawers in the living room? Look around the house?”

He shrugged, made a face like,
Yeah, no big deal
.

“Did you find anything?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you find anything troubling? A gun or something that would make you worry about the Nixes? Maybe something in the living room that made you worry about things they’re into?”

He gave her a look like he had no idea what she was talking about. “No. We were there like five minutes. You’re making this into something more than it was. We delivered a couch. That’s it.”

“Have you been back since?”

He hesitated. “What, me? No. Why would I need to?”

Josie turned to Tim. “How well did you know Ferris Sinclair?” she asked.

Tim watched Josie pick up the plastic chair that Mick had kicked across the room and drag it over to the small area where he and Craig sat. She took a seat and stared at Tim until he answered.

“Ferris has been around…” He paused and seemed to consider his answer. “Maybe a year or so. He was always hanging out up front by the bands.”

“You ever hear any rumors about him?”

“Like what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me. What did people say about him?” Josie asked.

He narrowed his eyes and looked uncomfortable with the question. “This is a police investigation, right? So I don’t know about giving you rumors. Who knows if any of it’s true?”

“You tell me what you heard about Ferris, and I’ll check into it. I won’t hold it against you if turns out to be bogus.” She smiled and he seemed to relax somewhat.

“The rumor was that Billy and Ferris had a thing going on.”

“As in an affair?”

He made a face and laughed. “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“You mean they had a sexual relationship?”

He nodded. “That’s what I heard, but like I said, who knows.”

“Did Brenda know about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

She looked at Craig to get his reaction. Craig had lost his heavy-lidded doper expression and seemed highly engaged in the conversation now.

“The whole thing was weird,” Craig said. “Billy was this massive guy, but he had this little ferret following him around. That’s what everybody called him. Telling Billy how great he was all the time.” Craig smiled. “One Saturday night after Billy and the Outlaws played I was sitting up at the bar. Brenda happened to be standing there ordering a drink when Billy and the ferret came up to the bar. The ferret pats Billy on the back and tells him he was brilliant.” Craig laughed. “Brilliant? Even if he was brilliant, you don’t call some hard-ass guy that.”

Tim smiled. “I was sitting there too. The best part was, Brenda rolled her eyes and walked away. She didn’t even wait around for her drink.”

“You guys ever hear any rumors about Ferris having HIV?” she asked.

“No shit?” Craig said.

Josie remained quiet. She scooted her chair so that she could see Mick, who was standing next to the cabinets behind her. She raised her eyes at him as if waiting for his input.

“It’s just people talking smack,” Mick said.

Josie kept her attention on Mick. “I’ve heard Ferris was promiscuous, that he was probably bisexual. You ever hear that? Maybe who some of his other partners might be?”

“Just because you’re bi doesn’t mean you’re promiscuous,” Mick said.

“That wasn’t what I said. Was Ferris promiscuous with people of either sex?”

Mick nodded. “That’d be my guess.”

“He ever hit on you?”

Craig laughed. “He hit on everybody.”

“There’s a strong possibility that Ferris is HIV positive.” Josie looked at the three guys but saw little change in their expressions.

Craig said, “Then I’d say the trauma center better stock up on HIV tests.”

*   *   *

While Josie spoke with the band, Otto pulled Hank aside to talk to Slim Jim. Hank had obviously already been clued in to the drama and had already decided the show would go on that night.

Hank put a hand on Slim Jim’s shoulder. “As much as I’d like to keep the bar open for Billy’s fans tonight, I can’t cancel a show last minute. We’ll have a memorial service tomorrow, starting at four p.m. We can let it go as late as people want. I’ll let everyone know here in a while. Mick’s just gonna have to skip the practice this morning. It’s a compromise.”

Slim Jim put a hand in the air to acknowledge he understood and started to walk away.

Otto said, “Quick question before you go. Can you tell me what time Billy called you the night he died?”

Slim paused and his expression changed from anger to confusion. “Why?”

“I’m just clearing up some loose ends.”

“It was about two in the morning.”

Otto looked at Hank and he nodded his head in agreement. “That’s when he called me.”

Slim turned and walked toward the back of the bar.

“A lot of drama,” Otto said.

Hank watched Slim Jim walk away and open the back door of the bar. White light surrounded his silhouette as he walked out of the building and into the sunlight. “I feel for him. This has hit him awful hard.”

Otto nodded and pointed backstage to where Josie was meeting with the other band. “Mick’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”

“Mick’s okay. He’s got a chip on his shoulder. He’s one of those guys that figures everybody else has it easier than he does. In his eyes, Mick’s the only one in town that had to scrape through life to get anything good.”

“You think that’s true?”

Hank made a dismissive noise. “He’s got a good band, a good job that pays the bills, a nice house to live in. I don’t think he has it too bad.”

Otto glanced around him and pointed toward a place at the end of the bar where there weren’t any people standing around. “I want to ask you a question,” he said.

When they reached the quieter spot Otto said, “I guess you heard that Billy died from an overdose of alcohol and pills.”

Hank nodded.

“Did that surprise you, that he would take pills?”

Hank leaned back against the wall and nodded his head toward the dance floor where over a hundred people were milling about on a Friday workday. “Nothing would surprise me anymore. I think if a guy wanted to score a bag of weed, or a bag of pills, or any other kind of drug you could name, all he’d have to do is walk through that crowd and start asking some questions. I hate to say that about my own bar, but that’s the truth of it.”

“You aren’t surprised Billy would take pills?”

Hank looked at Otto like he was crazy. “Billy? He was a bundle of nerves. All the time. I’m sure he’s taken his share of pills to calm down before a big show.”

“Brenda claims Billy’s never taken any drugs.”

Hank’s mouth turned down and he looked away as if pained by the thought. “Brenda believed the best about him. She thought he could be a star. I doubt Billy ever believed it.”