Chapter 21
I arrived at the San Diego County Women’s Detention facility in Santee at 11:00 AM Saturday morning. We had to use the telephones on either side of a glass divider. Chelsea wore an orange jumpsuit and her hair was a mess.
“I have to get out of here,” she said with arched eyebrows and pleading eyes.
“Your lawyer is the only one who can arrange that. I understand your bail hearing is set for Tuesday.”
A tear rolled down her face. “I don’t think I’ll make it in here until Tuesday. One woman threatened to kill me.”
“Did you hear why the DA’s office moved forward with the arrest?”
“I don’t know anything and can’t even think straight now,” she sobbed.
Her tenuous grasp of control attracted the attention of another inmate who looked like a professional wrestler.
“You’ve got to keep it together if you want to survive in jail,” I said. “The others will pick on you all of the time if you show fear.”
“I can’t help it,” she cried. “What else can I do?”
“Were you ever in a school play?” I asked and Chelsea nodded. “Good. Pretend you’re in a play now and your role is the psycho chick that nobody wants to mess with.”
For the first time in our meeting she smiled. “I couldn’t do that. I don’t know how.”
“Oh, come on. Anybody can do it. Just avoid talking to people whenever you can. If somebody threatens you, try making an animal noise back at them or say that voices are telling you to do bad things,” I said. “Inmates tend to avoid wackos because they’re afraid of the unknown, and nobody knows what a wacko might do.”
“How do you know these things?”
“I used to work in a mental health facility. Lots of my former clients spent time in jail at one time or another. Trust me, it’ll work. Just remember to act normal when the guards and administrators are around.”
“OK. So why did the DA arrest me?” she asked in a more composed manner.
“The police found a witness from the restaurant where you had your fight shortly before Terry’s death. The witness said you threatened to take Terry to the cleaners in a divorce and he told you about a clause in your prenuptial agreement that would have cut you off from his income if either of you filed for divorce.”
“Damn!” she exclaimed. “I can see how that would look really bad. He and my dad were battling over a TV commercial. They were both putting me in the middle of their fight and I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t going to divorce Terry, but I said that to let him know how pissed I was feeling.”
“How did you react to his information about the pre-nup?”
“It was a surprise and it wasn’t a surprise. Rock stars have tremendous strains placed on their relationships. Terry knew this and he knew I would never be hurting for money, with or without him. When he wrote the pre-nup he was just preparing for when I would say what I said that night. But you’ve got to believe me. I had nothing to do with his murder.”
“I believe you, Chelsea. I’ve believed in you from the beginning.”
“Then find out who did this and get me out of here. I want to believe in you too, Jason,” she said as a jail matron told us we had five more minutes.
“One last thing,” I said. “I have a theory on what Terry was talking about in his poem he scrawled on the bathroom mirror.”
Chelsea’s eyes grew wide, as if a mystic revelation was forthcoming. “What is it?”
“When he said, ‘Back in the time when I was nine,’ he wasn’t referring to being age 9, he was talking about his former band, Caliber 9. I think somebody from the band was helping him. Do you know who that might be?”
“David Cooper,” she said. “Terry always said, if the chips were down and he needed somebody’s help, David would always be there for him. It’s got to be David, the bass player.”
I said goodbye as the matron took Chelsea by the arm and led her out the door. When she passed by the lady wrestler, Chelsea made her eyes look very wild and she bared her teeth. The wrestler moved her arm off of the chair armrest and pulled it in to her side in a more protective posture. At that point I had no doubt Chelsea would survive until Tuesday.
I got to the office at 2:15 and spent the next three hours pouring over Axel Vandevere’s dossier on Terry’s activities in the month prior to his death. I found three items that I felt were significant or at least surprising. First, I learned that Terry and Chelsea’s father were into something else besides exploring the prospects of a private label record company. This must have been the TV commercial Chelsea mentioned. They met with ad agency writers and producers. Vandevere managed to talk with one of the writers and found that Terry was in the process of selling a Doberman’s Stub song to be used in a custom home commercial. I had to wonder if Terry’s fight with Peter Spivey might have been connected to this deal.
The second item surprisingly contradicted something Chelsea had told me. It seems Terry met with Gavin Tomko, the lead guitarist from Caliber 9, not David Cooper, the bassist. I looked both of them up in Terry’s address book and left voice-mail messages explaining that I was working on Terry’s murder and needed their help.
I thought I had a pretty good handle on what made Terry tick until I came across the third item. I had him pegged as a self-absorbed workaholic who spent his spare time planning his next project, song, or business move. Vandevere managed to learn that Terry used Gavin Tomko’s ID to volunteer anonymously at a center for troubled teens in downtown San Diego. Vandevere posed as a concerned parent who questioned Terry’s commitment. The center director had nothing but high praise for Terry and revealed that he had been volunteering for the past five years.
It was date night, and because I had been dominating our choice of activities since taking on the murder case, I told Kelly I would take her wherever she wanted to go.
“Take me back to Bernie’s club,” she said. “I was jealous watching all of those other couples dancing last weekend. I want you to wear me out.”
“Are you sure you want me to expend all of your energy on the dance floor?”
“I may save a little something for later if you behave yourself,” she said. “There is one other thing that concerns me.”
“What’s that?”
“I was disappointed that Glenda and her fiancée didn’t make it to your show. Do you think they may want to join us?”
I reached Glenda and learned they ducked out on the show because of the fact that GI Jo-Jo would be there and Glenda felt the need to keep her distance from him. She was glad I called back and we arranged to meet for dinner at 7:30 and dancing at the Dali Lama to follow.
Dinner conversation was light and fun. Glenda recounted a few stories from UCSD that brought back fond memories, even though I knew Kelly would bust my chops over some of her recollections.
When we got to the Dali Lama I didn’t even have the chance to say hello to Bernie before Kelly had me out on the dance floor, where we stayed for the entire first set. By the time we made our way back to the table I had resolved to get to the gym at least three times a week regardless of the status of the case.
Undoubtedly on a tip from Jasmine, Bernie appeared at our table at the break and attributed the full house to the wonderful publicity he received from last week’s show.
“In fact,” he said, “we’ve been packed every night this week.” He quickly excused himself and made his way back to the office.
When the next set started Kelly said, “I’m sure glad I wore my dancing shoes tonight.”
Glenda caught my expression and said, “I have a couple of things I need to tell Jason about his case.” Then, looking at her fiancée asked, “Would you be a dear and take Kelly for a spin while we talk shop?”
Tyrone agreed and we were suddenly in an unscheduled meeting.
“Do you really have something for me or did you just happen to notice that I look like I’m ready to keel over?” I asked.
“I was about to return the file yesterday when I decided to take one last look at an adjunct deposition section I hadn’t reviewed. I found something you may want to follow-up on.”
“What was it?”
“A deposition from the captain who ran Martin’s unit before the fragged captain took over. In the deposition, Captain Anson Phillips stated that he was certain that Martin acted on behalf of all of the soldiers in the unit in response to gross dereliction of duty on the part of the deceased. Captain Phillips retired two years prior to the incident. A year later he got his son Daniel assigned to the unit. According to Captain Phillips, his son was killed disarming ordnance he wasn’t properly trained to handle. The soldiers who served under Phillips took it very hard. Phillips felt Martin’s actions were the only solution after formal complaints failed to correct the situation and two other recruits were severely injured as a result of the C.O.’s laziness and incompetence,” she said.
“Wow,” I said, “I guess there really are two sides to every story. Thanks, Glenda. You probably saved me three days of work.”
“Three days of work and one dance,” she said as Kelly and Tyrone returned from the dance floor. “Break time is over.”
“Why don’t we all dance?” asked Tyrone.
“That’s a great idea,” I said, smiling at Glenda.