Chapter 10
Monday morning I picked Jeannine up at 8:45 and found Delbert standing guard at the front door. He had forgotten to shave, but did manage to get the front of his shirttail tucked in. When he saw us he shoved something into his pants pocket, which appeared to already be quite full. Jeannine said hello and when he replied it became apparent that his pocket was full of Oreo cookies. I would have to come up with a way, other than a donut shop run, of keeping Delbert away from the office since he would already be stuffed full of confection and pocket lint.
I downloaded the folder from Yuliya onto Jeannine’s computer and told her to review all of the pictures carefully for anything unusual. I told Delbert I thought somebody might try to mess with my car, and walked him to a stakeout position where he could watch it without being spotted by Nigel or anyone else who might call the cops on a suspicious ogre.
Just after 10:00 Jeannine showed Nigel into my office.
“Nigel, what’s on your mind?”
“Like I said on the phone, I have two separate matters to discuss with you,” he said. “First, I want to hire you to do background checks on prospective replacements for Terry. It’s important that we choose carefully. The last thing we need is to announce a new front-man only to find out he has a heroin habit or that he’s a convicted pedophile.”
“Speaking of replacements, did Ian know he was about to get the boot?”
“There was a fair amount of open hostility between Terry and Ian. Terry threatened to make Ian bugger-off at least once a week.”
“How did Ian feel about that?”
“Ian loves being a rock star. When we formed he was the only unknown in the band. He was broke, hungry, and had tremendous talent. Nobody knew he’d go nuts once he started earning those big checks.”
“Do you think Ian would kill Terry to keep the good times rolling?”
“My God! I certainly hope not. You think you know somebody, but I guess you never really do,” he said with a lot of emotion. “I vouched for Ian. I thought you suspected the record company.”
“I do. How soon do you need the reports?”
“We’re actively seeking right now. Ideally, I was hoping you could jump on them as soon as possible.”
“I won’t be able to give them my full attention until I finish up working for Chelsea. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“It actually ties in with the second thing I’m here to talk with you about,” he said. “We’re going to be finishing the last song on the CD by Wednesday. After we laid down the tracks on each of our first two CDs, Terry got us a low profile gig at a local club. We played the new material in front of live audiences to see what they liked and what should be tweaked before we wrapped the session.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Jack told me you played the local club scene before you became a detective. Do you know any club owners who could set this up without causing a mob scene?” Nigel asked.
“I know just the guy to handle it. His club would be perfect.”
“Is this a place where your old band used to perform?”
“It was my favorite place to play,” I said.
“What if we advertised the show as a reunion of your old group? Is your old lead singer still in the area?”
“I was our lead singer.”
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Can you sing in Terry’s range?”
“You guys were just getting started the year I hung it up. But my shower version of Clepto Lover rocks the house,” I said with a smile.
“Perfect! If I get you the sheet music and demo’s of our new songs, could you put it together for next weekend?”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. After a three year layoff from playing professionally, you want me to set up a gig in less than one week, learn the rhythm guitar and lead vocals on a CD full of songs I’ve never heard before, deal with a hundred old friends calling about the reunion show, and solve Terry’s murder all at the same time. Oh, and do a couple of bio investigations on the side. Is that about it?” I asked.
“It’s not all that,” Nigel said. “There are only 12 songs on the CD and you already know one of them. If you don’t have time to learn the songs we can dub Terry in over the PA. Do your best Milli Vanilli impression and Doberman’s Stub fans everywhere will be eternally grateful.”
“What about all those old loyal fans who will be crushed when they find out Tsunami Rush isn’t in the house?” I asked with tongue firmly implanted in cheek.
“Good point,” Nigel said. “We only want to do one set. Could you get your old band to cover the other sets?”
“We do a little garage jamming once every month or two. I don’t think we could possibly be ready that soon.”
“It’s like riding a bike, lad,” he said.
“When I was seven I fell off my bike and broke my arm.”
“No worries, I heard you play in the studio. You’ll do great.”
“I have so much going on right now, Nigel. I don’t think it would be possible,” I said.
“Too bad. It’s going to be a huge plug for whatever club owner we drop in on.”
“Why does it have to be this weekend?”
“We have a lot of issues with Cerise Records and with our own management now that Terry’s gone. We all want to wrap the CD and get the hell out of that damned studio as soon as possible. If Cerise Records was involved in Terry’s death you shouldn’t expect us to hang out any longer than is absolutely necessary. Right?”
“Let me see what I can put together,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks Jason, I have every confidence in you. In fact, if you can pull this off I’ll use your rhythm track on the CD and give you a credit. Your name will be on a couple million CDs. I need you on this one,” he said and exited.
My next project was to track down GI Jo-Jo’s girlfriend. I figured with a name like Delitah she had to be either a hooker or an exotic dancer. I decided an exotic dancer would be easier to find. I called a guy I knew at UCSD, Tony Bascinelli, who was a connoisseur of San Diego erotica. I had no trouble locating him through the insurance company calendar he sends to me every year.
“Tony, it’s Jason Duffy. How the hell are you?”
“I knew you’d eventually come to realize the value of a whole life policy, Jason. You’re the third guy from UCSD who’s called me this year. Let’s set up a time to get together with the Mrs.,” he said.
“There is no Mrs. Duffy. I’m trying to find an exotic dancer who doubles as a metal groupie.”
“I have just the girl for you. She digs your kind of music and she’ll go ape-shit when she finds out you were the lead singer in Tsunami Rush. They’ll be pealing you off her ceiling mirror.”
“I’m looking for a particular girl. Her name is Delitah.”
“What do you want with her?” he asked.
“I just need to ask a few questions about her boyfriend. No hassles, no cops, just a few questions.”
“She’s working first shift at Bottoms Up. She ought to be getting started about now.”
“Thanks for the info, Tony. I’ll call when I’m ready for that policy,” I said. With the Russians chasing me it might not be a bad idea.
I had to pay a $10 cover charge for the privilege of hanging with a swell bunch of guys. As I walked in, I spotted a large bulletin board with pictures of the day’s featured dancers. Delitah had a big yellow star made of construction paper outlining her image. Her name was written on one of the star points.
Delitah had recently finished her set when I arrived. I took a seat at one of the back tables, knowing that she’d work her way from the stage toward the door. She appeared to be wearing a fake fur jacket over a G-string and encouraged patrons to tuck dead presidents into the waistband.
“Did you like my show?”
“Unfortunately, I just missed it. But I did come here to see you. My name’s Jason Duffy and I need to talk with you about Terry Tucker.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No. I’m a private investigator, hired to find out who killed Terry.”
“Then I don’t have to talk to you.”
“I thought you were a big fan of Terry’s,” I said.
“I was. But now he’s dead and there’s no chance of hooking up with him anymore.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see whoever killed him get caught?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it and I don’t know who did.”
“Nobody thinks you had anything to do with it,” I said. “Did you notice anything unusual going on in the last few weeks before Terry died?”
Delitah sat down at my cocktail table and leaned forward. “Everybody was pretty uptight about recording the new CD. Terry was born a perfectionist. The other guys in the band just don’t understand that when you’re a genius you do what it takes to achieve your vision.”
“Did you see much of the band in the last few weeks?”
“I rode on the bus for the last mini-tour through the West Coast just before they went into the studio. But once they started recording, some asshole Russian Nazi wouldn’t let me in to see the sessions,” she said.
“The big blond guy?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Do you think it’s possible he had anything to do with Terry’s murder?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He hated Terry.”
“How do you know he hated him if he didn’t let you inside?”
“First of all, I have a very good friend who works for the band.”
“Would that be GI Jo-Jo?”
“Yeah. Jo-Jo told me Terry thought he was a useless piece of shit and was always giving him a hard time,” she said. “Plus, I saw him do something to Terry’s car once.”
“What did you see?”
“I was supposed to meet Jo-Jo in front of the recording studio at around six o’clock about a week before Terry died. The band was running late and I was just sitting in my car waiting. Then I saw that big asshole walk out of the studio and head straight for Terry’s Ferrari. Then he whipped it out and pissed all over the hood of that beautiful car,” she said.
“Did you say anything to him?”
“Hell no. I didn’t want him waving that thing at me,” she said. “Besides, he probably would have run me out of the lot and I wouldn’t have been able to hook up with Jo-Jo.”
“I’m not real clear on something,” I said. “Were you dating Terry or were you dating Jo-Jo?”
“Well, Jo-Jo is my friend, sometimes a really close friend. But he knew from the start that I’m cosmically linked to Terry.”
“Did Terry know about this cosmic linkage?” I asked with a straight face.
“I tried telling him about it a couple of times, but Terry had a lot on his mind.”
“What about his wife, Chelsea?”
“That bitch!” she cried. “She was never right for Terry. It was just a matter of time before he realized it.”
“What did she do that made you dislike her?”
“She didn’t have to do anything to piss me off. Just hearing her name is enough to fuck me up just like that!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers.
“Is it just because Chelsea saw him first?”
“That bitch has such an attitude, like she’s better than everybody else. Let’s see if she’d have that same attitude if she had to schlep drinks in this joint or put out for some skuzzy club owner.”
I didn’t think Delitah was going to volunteer anything else of value, but I decided to play a hunch and see where it went.
“I heard Terry and Jo-Jo got into a fight over you. What was that all about?”
“That’s bullshit! They had a little fight, but it wasn’t over me.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not gonna tell you. You’ll just tell the cops. I know how it works. You give them something and they pay you back.”
“Delitah, I won’t say anything. If I get the reputation of telling stories to the cops I’d be out of business just like that,” I said, snapping my fingers like Delitah had done.
“You don’t know what it’s like playing with a band and being on the road.”
“Did you ever hear of the local band Tsunami Rush?”
“No,” she replied.
“That was my band until three years ago. I helped out on the new Doberman’s Stub CD last week, playing rhythm guitar on one of the songs. You can ask Jo-Jo. He was there.”
“If I tell you this and you tell the cops, I’ll deny it and say you made it up.”
“I swear I won’t tell the cops,” I said, raising my right hand.
“OK. After a show in San Francisco, Terry got in Jo-Jo’s face and accused him of supplying Ian with drugs. Jo-Jo doesn’t sell drugs. Ian looked pretty high that night and Terry was looking to point the finger at somebody. He already went off on Ian and had some extra energy so he got really nasty with Jo-Jo.”
“Were any punches thrown?”
“Terry was pointing his finger at Jo-Jo. Then he poked Jo-Jo in the chest. When he did that, Jo-Jo shoved him away with one arm. Terry responded by pushing Jo-Jo’s shoulders with both hands, pretty hard.”
“What did Jo-Jo do?”
“He punched Terry in the stomach really hard and Terry dropped to his knees. That was the end of the fight.”
“Did Terry threaten to fire Jo-Jo? I can’t imagine he’d just let it go.”
“They made up almost instantly. Jo-Jo helped Terry to his feet. They talked for a minute or two and it was over.”
“What did they talk about?”
“Terry was bent over and Jo-Jo squatted down near his face, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying,” she said.
“Did Jo-Jo ever talk about it?”
“Not a word.”
“Thanks Delitah,” I said and stood.
“I got a question for you before you leave,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s been pretty slow around here today. How ‘bout a lap dance?”
I grabbed my back and said, “I would, but it would give me a bad case of the girlfriend guilts. But I am willing to make a significant contribution to your G-string fund.”
I pulled a $20 out of my wallet and wrapped it around the side of her waistband. She gave me a big smile and bounced off toward the bar. I was left to try and figure out how to get reimbursed on my expense report without doing a lot of explaining to Chelsea.
At 3:30 PM I pulled into the parking lot of Bernie’s club and tried knocking on the door. It wasn’t open yet, but I was hoping to catch Bernie before the happy hour crowd rolled in. When knocking and pounding didn’t get a result, I called him from my cell phone.
“Bernie, its Jason. Some maniac is pounding on your door.”
“I thought it was just another yuppie with a daiquiri jones,” he replied. “What can I do for you today, Jason?”
“It’s more like something I can do to pay you back for your many good deeds. Let me in and I’ll explain.”
Five minutes later I was in Bernie’s office. He offered me a drink, but I declined.
“This is going to sound pretty wild, but I think it would be terrific publicity for the club,” I said.
“Spit it out,” he replied. “I can see you’re dying to tell me.”
“Nigel Choate asked if I knew of a San Diego club where Doberman’s Stub could perform its new CD to a live audience. Of course I immediately thought of taking care of my old buddy, Bernie.”
“If we announced that Doberman’s Stub was going to play here the place would be so packed that the Fire Marshals would shut us down. If we turned them away at the door the fans would block the streets and probably riot because they couldn’t get in,” Bernie said, stroking his chin.
“Nigel knows these things. That’s why he asked that we bill it as a reunion show for Tsunami Rush. He figures it would draw just enough people to get a good audience reaction, but not so many that it would cause the problems you mentioned.”
“Would they play the whole night?”
“No. Just a twelve song set. He wants us to give the crowd what they came to see for the other sets.”
“Have they found a replacement for Terry already?”
“Not yet. Nigel asked me to do background investigations on prospective candidates once they start the search process. He also asked me to fill in for Terry.”
“Wow! Talk about a rock & roll fantasy come true! That could be one hot night for you. I didn’t think you and the boys were still playing together anymore.”
“Derek has an aunt with a big piece of property out in Alpine. Once every month or two we get together on a Sunday afternoon and jam. We could manage the other sets,” I said. “My big worry is learning twelve new songs in time.”
“When does he want to do this?”
“Saturday night,” I replied. “I know it’s short notice, but they’re all frazzled by the murder and are looking to wrap the CD as soon as possible. They did club tests on their first two CDs and feel it’s important to stay with the winning formula.”
“Oye! You know I’ve already got a band booked for Saturday night. How can I just cancel them on this short a notice?”
“Tell them you’ll make it up to them by giving them three more bookings and putting in a good word for them with other club owners.”
“Those guys are really hungry. I’m sure we can work it out. What was your idea on how I could maximize publicity if I’m not supposed to tell anybody Doberman’s Stub will be playing?”
“I suggest you get in touch with one of the Sunday Union-Trib music reviewers and tell him you’ll give him an exclusive if he’ll come out on Saturday night, no questions asked. Let him know you’re billing it as a local band, but that a major group will be debuting new material,” I said. “Now I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“How am I going to learn 12 new songs in the next few days?”
Bernie mulled my question for a minute then raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Get me a sharp copy of the sheet music. I’ll scan it into a computer program and run it through the karaoke monitor suspended from the ceiling above the stage. Get one of your old band mates to follow along on a floor monitor and hit page down when you reach the bottom of the screen.”
“Bernie, you’re the bomb!”
I would have hung out with Bernie and worked out the details, but I needed to get back to the office by 6:00 PM to take Jeannine home. As I walked into my business at 5:55 PM, I heard Jeannine scream, “Stop!”
I raced into the reception area to find Delbert sitting on Cory and pinning his arms to the carpet.
“What the hell is going on!” I shouted.
Delbert replied, “He was cursing at Jeannine and he won’t apologize.”
“Delbert, get off of Cory right now.” I grabbed Delbert by the upper left arm and lifted. Delbert outweighed Cory by at least 130 pounds. “I don’t want to see anything like this ever again.”
“He’s still not sorry,” Delbert said, struggling to his feet.
I said to Delbert, “Cory is a client at the Mental Health Center, just like you and Jeannine. He has Tourette’s Syndrome. That’s what makes him curse. He can’t control it.”
I took a closer look at Cory and saw twenty to thirty large black flecks on his face. I picked a pointy one out of his eyebrow that was about the size of a fingernail.
“Are these Oreo cookies?” I asked Delbert.
“Uh, huh,” Delbert replied sheepishly as he nodded his head.
Holding the pointy cookie bit in Delbert’s face I said, “You could put somebody’s eye out with this.”
Delbert looked at Cory and said, “Sorry.”
I sent Delbert home for the day and brought Cory into my office.
“Are you up for a tail job?” I asked.
Cory smiled and nodded.
“I want you to follow Ian Davis, Doberman’s drummer, starting tonight. He’ll probably go to the bars. Don’t follow him inside, but I want pictures of who he goes in with, who he comes out with, license plate numbers of the vehicles he travels in, and a log of the time, date, and location of all of this movements. Can you handle it?”
His profanity-laced reply told me he was enthusiastically in favor of the idea. I confided in him that I didn’t like having Delbert around, but that Jeannine insisted, and it was a short-term arrangement.
Though the casual observer would never know it by his words, Cory expressed thanks that I shared this information.
“Now go get cleaned up, then head over to The Tillerman’s in Mission Beach. That’s where Ian usually starts his carousing,” I said.
By the time we returned to the reception area Delbert had departed and Jeannine was on her hands and knees inspecting the carpet nap for stray bits of Oreo cookie that may have been missed by the vacuum cleaner. Cory grabbed his camera and headed for the door without making eye contact with Jeannine.
“Did Nigel Choate drop something off for me today?” I asked.
“He had a very pretty young woman drop it off. She seemed disappointed that you were out.”
Jeannine retrieved a large manila envelope from her desk drawer and handed it to me.
As I walked her home, we talked about Delbert and his temporary status. She was OK with the idea that his tenure with Duffy Investigations would end with the conclusion of the case.
I spent the remainder of the evening listening to the demo CD while playing along with my guitar. I also called my ex-band mates and got an enthusiastic agreement to do the weekend gig. After explaining my time crunch they agreed to practice without me a couple of times before Saturday.