The Boy Who Cried Freebird (27 page)

But Jim Kowalt sprang to his feet, handed Angie Madison his card, thanked her for her time, and hustled Ross out of the conference room before he could say a word.

The two detectives went directly over to Ace MacKay's radio station. Upon arriving, they were escorted to a large waiting room outside of his office.

Ace had tousled hair, a small goatee, and was wearing a Velvet Underground T-shirt underneath a worn-looking leather jacket. Ace
gave the impression that he was very busy and that there were several projects demanding his immediate attention. He seemed to have a very short attention span.

Ace MacKay also seemed to be in a very good mood, apparently due to the publicity he'd been getting since Manning's demise became public.

“Let's make it quick, gentlemen,” he said boisterously. “I have several interviews after this. I guess everyone wants to know what old Ace thinks about poor Alex Manning getting whacked.”

Jim Kowalt got straight down to business and said, “Mr. MacKay, we understand that you and the deceased had a strong dislike for each other.”

Ace didn't even blink and answered, “What was there about him not to dislike? Alex was an on-air asshole, same as me. But he was an asshole off the air, too. My listeners always enjoyed it when I made Alex look bad, which was easy to do. Gentlemen, it was both my professional and personal pleasure to hate Alex Manning.”

“Well,” Kowalt observed, “your feud with Mr. Manning has certainly been good for your career and now his murder has brought you into the national spotlight.”

“You bet,” Ace said gleefully, “and tomorrow we're going to do ‘The Worst of Alex Manning' and play all of the low-down nasty things that jerk ever said to me.”

“We understand that you were with Alesha Martinez at the time of the murder,” offered Ross.

“That's coming out now, huh?” Ace said in an unconcerned voice. “I've only been sleeping with her for a couple months and told her that it would be impossible to keep it a secret. The woman's obsessed with her public image but as far as I'm concerned there's nothing wrong with a little extra notoriety.”

Ace began chuckling and paced his office excitedly. “Hey, I guess I don't have to worry about keeping our secret if you guys know about it,” he said. “This just keeps getting better. Now I can really spice up my interviews tonight.”

“But we promised Ms. Martinez our complete discretion on this matter,” Ross said. “So don't start making this part of your media spiel. Okay, Ace?”

MacKay's eyes got wide and he said, “What, are you threatening me, Detective? Are you telling me that I can't talk about my personal life if I feel like it? So what if our affair becomes common knowledge before Alesha is ready to deal with it?”

“You're pretty nonchalant about this whole thing, aren't you, Mr. MacKay?” said Jim Kowalt.

“Why shouldn't I be?” Ace responded. “I didn't murder anyone. Besides, everybody knows what a hateful person Alex Manning was. Do we all have to act sad just because someone finally got around to killing him?”

“Well, Ms. Martinez claims that you were together at her house on the night of the murder,” said Kowalt. “This would provide both of you with an alibi, for now. Care to confirm her story?”

“Of course,” he answered. “I was there, and that's a fact. But I can't say for certain if the same goes for Alesha.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ross.

Ace seemed pleased as he explained, “What I mean is that I was at her house, yes. But I was sleeping very soundly from eleven at night until three-thirty in the morning and can't say with any certainty that Alesha was in bed next to me. I mean, who knows where she was? I was dead asleep and all I can say is that I can't vouch for her.”

“Damn,” thought Ross as Jim Kowalt jumped up and handed Ace MacKay his card.

Part Four

The two detectives drove back to the precinct. Again there was silence. Ross didn't know what to say about the strange unfolding of the murder mystery. He waited for some direction to come from his partner.

Jim Kowalt pulled his unmarked squad car up to the precinct HQ. He turned to Ross and said firmly, “Well, rookie, now comes the hard part so don't screw this up. It's 7:45, which means that you have just about two hours to examine the ‘jewel case' and the ‘track listing.' Forensics says that there were no fingerprints or DNA on the disc besides those of Manning himself.

“So what I want you to do is this,” Kowalt continued. “You need to analyze the evidence from a musical perspective. See if there were any messages in the songs or anything else that you can come up with. I need you to develop at least a couple different hypotheses as to the identity of the murderer. Then I want you to meet me at the scene of the crime tonight at 10:00.”

Jim Kowalt conveyed a covert attitude as he described the next stage of his plan. “After we're set up in the victim's home, I'm going to have the ‘four AMs' all brought there, by themselves. We may need to stall them once they arrive, so be ready to discuss the clues from the CD in some detail.”

Ross became nervous at the prospect of confronting the four suspects again, especially so soon and all together. “Are you sure we're really ready for this?” he asked. “It feels rushed to me. Besides, how are you even going to get them all to show up, let alone without counsel?”

“Don't you worry about that,” Kowalt said. “Just be ready to do some fast talking. It'll be a surprise and there will probably be some panicking when everyone arrives. But we can't wait until tomorrow—we have to gather all of the suspects together at the scene of the crime tonight.”

Ross got out of the car and started walking toward the police station. Kowalt opened the window on the passenger side, leaned over, and shouted, “Don't screw this up, rookie! And remember—be there by ten o'clock sharp!”

Ross was frantic when he finally sat down at his desk with the CD and jewel case. He checked the clock on the wall and became anxious about his deadline. “This is crazy,” he thought. “What does he expect me to do in just two hours?”

It was then that Ross finally looked at the track listing on the back of the jewel case. He gasped at what he saw.

Part Five

Ross returned to the scene of the crime just five minutes before ten o'clock. He'd rushed like hell to get there and his heart was pounding as he tapped on the front door of Alex Manning's apartment.

Jim Kowalt cracked open the door and literally pulled Ross inside.

“You just made it, rookie,” he said. “Well, how did you do with your ‘mix-tape'? Any leads?”

“Actually, I—” Ross was cut off in midsentence by the senior detective.

“No time for that now,” Kowalt exclaimed. “The ‘four AMs' will be here any minute! Just get yourself ready to confront the suspects. All hell is going to break loose if we don't handle things right.”

“But, I—” Ross floundered.

Kowalt interrupted again, “Don't worry about a thing, rookie. I'll be backing you up the whole time. Just keep talking until I give you the signal.”

“What signal?” Ross asked.

Jim Kowalt had already turned his back on the young detective
and was tinkering with the stereo in the victim's front room. “Crap,” he muttered. “Where's the auto-repeat on this damn CD player?”

Before Ross could volunteer to help there was a knock on the front door. Ross stood there while Kowalt quickly pressed some buttons on the disc player and then calmly opened the door.

The suspects had been escorted separately to Alex Manning's apartment but they all arrived at the exact same time. As Kowalt predicted, there was a great deal of confusion when the “four AMs” were herded into the front room.

“What is the meaning of this, Detective?” Alesha Martinez demanded. “And what in the hell is
he
doing here?”

“Aren't you glad to see me, baby?” Ace MacKay said sarcastically. “Hey, why don't you introduce me to your friend here? I'm Ace, pleased to meet you.”

“I know who you are, Mr. MacKay,” Angie Madison said coldly. “So spare me the pleasantries.” Then Angie turned to the younger Manning and said, “Hello, Alex, I'm so sorry about your father.”

“Thanks, Angie,” said Alex Jr. as he looked quizzically around the room. “But this is getting creepy. What are we here for? Is someone under arrest?”

Jim Kowalt spoke in a loud voice over the music, which was playing at a fairly high volume. “Not yet,” he answered. “But that could change. Everyone just sit down and we'll get this over with as soon as possible. I'm going to let my associate, Detective Ross Melboro, explain…”

So, with the music building behind him, Ross stood in front of the four suspects and began solemnly. “Well,” said Ross. “One of you in this room is a murderer!”

Immediately there was a howl of angry denials from the “four AMs.”

“Quiet, please!” Ross demanded. “Thanks to evidence found in
this apartment, we believe the initials of Alex Manning's murderer are A.M.”

Meanwhile, the music in the apartment grew louder.

“And you, Alex Jr.,” Ross continued, “you hated your father, didn't you? Besides that, you're the only one mentioned in his will.”

“This is bullshit, man,” said Alex Manning Jr.

“If it's bullshit, then how do you explain the Frank Zappa song, ‘My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama,' which was on a mix-tape CD found in your father's stereo? We know that the only thing that you and your father agreed on was Zappa.”

The music was blasting and Frank Zappa's voice snarled through the speakers.

“A mix-tape?” yelled Alex. “Is it a mix-tape or is it a CD? I don't understand.”

“It's a CD, dipshit,” hollered Ace MacKay. “That's just what they call them, mix-tapes!”

“Aha! I didn't say it was a CD,” said Ross.

“Yes, you did,” said Ace.

“That may be true,” countered Ross. “But what are we to make of the fact that this ‘mix-tape' also contained a Velvet Underground song called ‘The Murder Mystery,' Mr. MacKay?”

“‘The murder mystery, Mr. MacKay.' That's good,” said Ace. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“Well, isn't that a Velvet Underground T-shirt you're wearing?” challenged Ross.

“Yes,” answered Ace. “So?”

Ross paused awkwardly, looking self-conscious as the music continued to blare. Then he turned his attention to Angie Madison and said, “Certainly you, Ms. Madison, cannot deny being a Beatles fan. Can you?”

“No,” said Angie. “I like the Beatles. Doesn't everybody?”

“Yes,” said Ross. “But not everybody was jilted and humiliated by Alex Manning. You even threatened him publicly. Isn't that why the Beatles' song ‘Helter Skelter' is on the murderous mix-tape?”

Angie Madison started to cry. “I don't know. I'm really more of a John Lennon fan than a Beatles fan,” she wailed. “Is that a crime?”

Then Ross whirled around, pointed with his finger, and said, “And you, Alesha Martinez. How do you explain your professional clashes with Alex Manning and your secret personal relationship with his rival, Ace MacKay? Even Ace can't vouch for you. Perhaps that's why the Snoop Dogg tune ‘Murder Was the Case' is on the mix-tape.”

The “four AMs” began protesting and arguing among themselves. Slightly overwhelmed, Ross thought that he had heard a phone ringing. Then he felt a wave of panic as he noticed that Detective Kowalt had disappeared from the room.

“This whole thing is completely insane,” screamed Alesha Martinez.

“Is it?” Ross continued desperately. “Is it insane to imagine a conspiracy to kill Alex Manning? Is it insane to envision a kinky ménage à trois between you, Ace MacKay, and Angie Madison—a twisted tryst of hot sex and revenge that turned deadly?”

All four suspects jumped to their feet. They began yelling at Ross and hurling wild accusations at one another. The mix-tape murder music had reached a fever pitch and it felt like utter pandemonium as Ross searched for a sign of Jim Kowalt.

Suddenly, the lights went out in the apartment. It was pitch-black in the front room, but the music was still blaring. Then there was a struggle with even more yelling and screaming and somebody finally being slammed to the floor.

When the lights came back on Detective Jim Kowalt was in the
middle of the room, sitting on top of the struggling form of Thomas Wolley.

“The upstairs neighbor!” Ross exclaimed. “What's he doing here?”

“Well, it's quite simple,” Kowalt said triumphantly. “The phone records show that old Tom here had been constantly calling his downstairs neighbor every night for months. I assume it had something to do with the noise and the repeated playing of a certain mix-tape. Isn't that right, Mr. Wolley?”

“Yes, yes! That's it!” blubbered Wolley. “I couldn't stand it anymore. He kept playing the same four songs over and over at top volume from ten at night until four in the morning! It was driving me crazy! I begged him to stop but he just laughed at me. So I killed him! I'm glad I did it! He was like the devil!”

“But all of your evidence was circumstantial. How did you know for sure that you could lure Wolley back down here with the loud music?” Ross asked.

“Well, it was the mix-tape,” answered Kowalt, “and the clue on the ‘jewel case.'”

“So, what clue was that?” Ross asked impatiently.

“Well, the ‘4-AM,'” said Kowalt. “Manning lived in apartment 3-A, remember? Mr. Wolley lived right above him in 4-A.”

“But that's just ‘4-A,' not ‘4-AM,'” insisted Ross. “What does the ‘M' stand for?”

Jim Kowalt squinted at Ross Melboro, looked around the room slowly, and said, “Don't you know your Alfred Hitchcock, kid? ‘M' is for Murder, of course.”