Spiral (15 page)

We shook hands, him holding on a bit longer than I would have. ”Mr. Queen.”

He let go of my hand. ”I prefer ‘Ricky,’ but Gordo has some trouble with that.”

”Why?”

Queen moved over to the drum set, ran his hand lightly along the paired cymbals. ”Makes him feel less like he’s working with a gay man in the group, he calls me by a more masculine name.” Queen turned toward me. ”Especially given my last one.”

”You were born with it?”

”I was. In a part of Alabama where they didn’t get the irony. But my family was proud of their name, and I couldn’t see changing it, especially with the crossover to Freddie Mercury in the band Queen.”

I said, ”Mercury died not too long ago, right?”

Queen looked at me differently. ”One of the many taken by the Epidemic.” A pause. ”I guess you aren’t always quite the diplomat, are you?”

”Because?”

Queen didn’t reply right away, instead easing gracefully down onto the little stool in the middle of the drums. ”John, I’m guessing you have to know by now that Buford Biggs is a person with AIDS.”

”So he told me.”

A nod. ”Well, somebody grows up gay in the South like me, he develops pretty good antennae, but I don’t feel any homophobic vibes right now. So, what are you trying to do, just get a rise out of me?”

I sat back in my folding chair. ”What I’m try to do is find out who killed Veronica Held and why.”

Queen smiled, but without the teeth. ”I don’t know the ‘who,’ dude, but I maybe can help with the ‘why.’”

”I’m listening.”

”After Very stomped out of the birthday party, it must’ve been almost an hour till Tranh’s yelling brought us all to the pool.”

”I heard you got there first.”

The smile never wavered. ”I’m the youngest, John, and the fleetest of foot.” Queen ran a finger lightly along the rim of a drum this time. ”Ever since, though, I’ve been thinking about—what do you call it, motive?”

”Motive will do.”

”Very was a hot young thing.” He looked up. ”You meet Spi yet?”

”Yes.”

”Then with Buford and Gordo, you’ve seen everybody in the band. Tell me what you think of our lineup.”

I thought back to Biggs praising Mitch Eisen’s ”casting.” I said, ”A little of this and a little of that.”

The wide smile. ”Pretty good, dude. We had Spi as the bad-boy/lead-guitar, Gordo as the paunchy-raunchy bass player, Buford for lightning-keyboard/racial-mix, and me as the pretty boy, appeal to most of the young girls and some of the young boys. But we had Very for the rest of the demographics.”

”Explain that to me.”

”Remember when I came in the room just before, and Gordo was telling you about somebody fucking everybody?”

”Frogs.”

The smile went crooked. ”What?”

”Never mind. Go on with what you were about to say.” Queen paused, then shook his head. ”Very, she was what everybody wanted to fuck ”

”I saw a video of her, but I just don’t get that.”

”Maybe you’re too virtuous, John.” Queen stopped smiling altogether. ”Okay, let me spell it out for you. Music today is all demographics, like I mentioned before. You got the reasons I just gave why some old rock fens—and blacks, whatever—might not channel-surf past a video station, they saw us on it. But Very was the... the wild card, like. She appealed to everybody else.” Queen leaned forward on his stool. ”You got your junior high boys, want to get into her pants. You got your senior high boys, want the same with a younger chick they figure will look up to them. You got your junior high girls, want to look like somebody the senior high boys want to get into the pants of. You got your pedophiles, want to drool over any little scorcher. Finally, you got your thirty-something daddies, married to their beastoid breeders but fantasizing about what it’d be like to bang the baby-sitter.”

”I can’t argue with you, Ricky. I just don’t see it.”

”Sure you do, John. It’s like with some men, they feel those homosexual urges, but they can’t come out of the closet. Doesn’t mean they don’t take a peek around the door, though.”

I wondered if that was payback for my question about Freddie Mercury earlier. ”So, you think Veronica was killed because of her sexuality?”

”Because of what she was showing, and maybe because she wasn’t sharing.”

A prostitute from a prior case once said something like that to me. ”So you don’t think Veronica was sexually active.”

”I’m probably the one guy at that party who wasn’t in a position to care.” Queen looked at me. ”Very was a pain in the ass, dude. A prima donna who knew she was the center of some people’s universe. Her daddy’s, on account of the band’s comeback. Her granddaddy’s, on account of after his stroke, I don’t think he had much else going for him. Kalil…”

Queen stopped.

”Go on,” I said.

He shook his head. ”Very wasn’t growing up normal. I mean, your father’s a washed-up rocker and your mom’s ‘guided’ by a ‘spiritual advisor,’ you probably can’t be normal anyway.”

”Wait a minute. Jeanette Held was seeing Malinda Dujong before Veronica’s death?”

Queen looked surprised. ”Yeah, dude. For, I don’t know, long as I’ve been around here.”

I filed that. ”You were saying about Veronica and a normal childhood?”

”I know what it’s like, not having exactly what folks back home would call a ‘normal’ one myself, and I felt kind of sorry for her, some ways.”

”Like what, Ricky?”

Queen blew out a breath. ”Like the way she got cut off from the kids she used to go to school with. Very had to take, like, tutoring for the state to buy her not going to regular classes anymore.”

”Tutoring by Duy Tranh.”

”Yeah, dude. And her uncle some, too.”

”Her uncle David?”

”A sick puppy, but the guy’s supposed to know computers inside and out. Flowers, too, I think.”

”Any trouble with either one of them?”

”You mean, like Very telling me stories?”

”Yes”

”Not that she ever said.”

”Did you tutor her at all?”

”No,” a little quickly, then Queen backpedaled. ”More like... counseling, maybe?”

”How do you mean?”

”Well, Very knew I was gay, so maybe she figured I was safe enough to ask. Or that I’d just know more about them, given the Epidemic and all.”

”Knew more about what, Ricky?”

”Condoms.”

”Veronica asked you about using condoms?”

”Which ones were the best.” Queen grew serious. ”Look, John. Put yourself in her position for a minute. Very had her world—at least the heterosexual part of it—by the balls, and she knew it. But Very also sensed she had to, like, stay above it, she wanted to keep her leverage over the others.”

Mitch Eisen’s term. ”Veronica could advertise sex, but not engage in it?”

”Kind of. Plus, even though she was a hellion, Very was still just thirteen, and somewhere inside her, she was understandably scared of it.”

”Of sex, now?”

”That’s my take, anyway.”

”Ricky, she ever ask you about drugs?”

”The cocaine the cops found inside her?”

I paused. ”The Medical Examiner and the lab, actually.”

”Ugh.
Not
a pretty picture, dude.”

”Well, did she?”

”Ask me about drugs? No, but then, she had her father’s generation as the experts there.”

I turned over what Queen had told me. ”When did Veronica ask you about condoms?”

No smile at all now. ”About a week before somebody killed her.”

”Who?”

Queen spread his hands, the helpless gesture. ”Like I
said,
John, I don’t know. Very appealed to a real wide demographic.”

I thought back to something else he’d said. Or at least had started to. ”The demographic include Kalil Biggs?” Cautious now. ”They used to go to school together.” ‘Veronica and Kalil?”

”Yeah,” said Queen.

”I haven’t met him yet, but somehow I had the feeling Kalil was older.”

”About fifteen, I think, but his stutter—or ‘stammer,’ I don’t know if they’re the same thing—kept him back a couple grades at some point.”

”So they were in classes together, too?”

”Until Spi started grooming Very for the comeback.”

I could ask both of the Biggs about that. ”Ricky, what made
you
want to be part of this comeback?”

”Me?”

”Yeah.”

A little defensive now. ”I told you, dude. The demographics.” He ran a hand through his hair. ”That neomodern, surfer boy look.”

”That explains why Mitch Eisen and Spi Held might want you in the band. Why did you decide to accept?” Queen turned thoughtful. ”Buford said they could use me”

”Biggs was the one who asked you?”

”Not directly. When Spi decided to try a comeback, he wanted all the original members, except they couldn’t get this Tommy O’Dell, of course.”

I nodded.

Queen blew out another breath. ”So, they needed a new drummer, and Buford told them I was good.”

”You and Biggs had played together before?”

”Some.” A hesitation. ”Back when I was getting started—five, six years ago? Buford got me a couple gigs with local bands he was part of in some of the clubs down here.” Another hesitation. ”Places that might not have hired somebody who was gay.”

‘You felt you owed Biggs something?”

”That wasn’t the only reason I said I’d come in.”

”But you’re—what, half the age of the rest of the guys?” ‘You see it all the time in jazz or blues bands, dude.”

”And in rock bands?”

A shrug. ”No, not so often. In fact, sometimes it’s like I’m that young chick in
The Big Chill.”

”Sorry?”

”The movie about you ‘baby boomers’ grown up. Sometimes I feel like the chick in that flick, sitting around the boomers, not getting most of what they’re talking about because she was too young to remember it herself.”

”And that doesn’t bother you?”

”Most people my age are into alternative music, not the classic-rock stuff. But that’s what gets the airtime.”

”The classic rock.”

”Yeah. Oh, you have some of the alternative stations getting more important for the college kids. Every kind of music filters down eventually, becomes ‘traditional.’ But I grew up hearing classic rock. And besides, Spiral looked like a nice springboard for me.”

”How?”

”Hey, dude, I try putting together my own group, or hook up with one’s just starting out, who am I? But, if I did a CD and national tour with Spiral, then I’m the drummer in the videos and the news clips, maybe even get my photo on the CD jacket itself.”

”And will all that still happen?”

Queen stopped. ”You mean with Very dead?”

”That’s what I mean.”

”It’ll be tough, dude. I mean, outside of some TV stuff in Miami, she didn’t really do that much performing yet. Just a couple of the local clubs, and because she was underage, they had to do some kind of juke-and-jive to keep their liquor licenses.”

”I can understand the license problem, but I don’t get your point.”

”There wasn’t really a 'Very cult’ yet, with fan clubs and T-shirts, its own Website. You know?”

”I still don’t follow.”

Queen began speaking more slowly. ”John, because she wasn’t really big yet, I don’t know if Mitch and Spi can put over her death as something to rally fans around. Like a Serena kind of thing.”

Another version of Eisen’s ”spin” speech. ”So with Veronica no longer in the band as a new star, Spiral might not have any comeback at all.”

”That’s what I been trying to tell you, dude.”

I thought about it. ”Would anybody benefit from that?”

”Not us guys in the band,” said Ricky Queen. ”Though I’m guessing someone wouldn’t be sorry to see her grand-daddy stop throwing good money after bad.”

Walking down the corridor from Spiral’s studio, I could hear dishes clattering in the Helds’ kitchen, followed by the whispery sound of a sliding glass door opening. The voice of Delgis Reyes said, ”Kalil, you hungry?”

I didn’t hear any reply.

When I reached the kitchen doorway, I saw
Buford
Biggs closing the glass panel, an African-American boy standing in front of him, eyes down toward the white-tiled floor. Because Kalil had been working the camera, I hadn’t seen him on the birthday-party video. He was about
five
feet tall and pudgy, with full cheeks and short hair under a reversed baseball cap. His clothes consisted of a Miami Heat T-shirt, baggy rayon shorts that hung past his knees, and this year’s version of Air Jordans.

When Buford Biggs turned from the doorway, he took a step toward Delgis Reyes and Gordo Lazar, both of whom were sitting on stools at the center island, Lazar eating again. Then Biggs saw me and stopped.

”You still here?”

As Kalil’s eyes came up from the floor, I said, ”Haven’t talked to everybody I need to.”

The boy looked at me like a frightened fawn, then back down to the white dies again.

His father said, ‘You meaning my son?”

”Among others.”

Biggs weighed something, then said, ”I want to be there.” Not worth the battle. ”All right. How about the patio again, so you can have a cigarette.”

A snort. ”Don’t smoke around my boy, babe, but the patio be okay.” Biggs paused. ”Kalil, this man, he need to ask you some questions.”

A tiny nod, the face still examining the floor.

”But I be with you, the whole time.”

Another tiny nod.

Buford Biggs said, ”Let’s go.”

His son followed him back outside. As I passed Gordo Lazar, he said, ”Go easy on the kid, huh?”

It surprised me a little, and I didn’t say anything back. When I reached the patio, Biggs was pulling a third chair over to the pair we’d used earlier near the hummingbird feeder. He pointed to one for Kalil, then sat himself to his son’s right. I rearranged the last chair to Kalil’s left, as much to keep my own left eye on his father as to be close to the person who I hoped would answer my questions.

Kalil’s sneakers didn’t quite settle flat on the tiles, the balls of his feet touching but the heels jigging up and down to no apparent rhythm. His thick fingers worried each other in his lap as he looked down at them.

I said, ”Kalil, do you know who I am?”

The tiny nod.

I looked first to Biggs, then back to his son. ”Tell me?” Kalil glanced up at me, then down again. ”T-t-tell you what?”

I could see the neck cords bulge as he clamped his jaw so hard, the teeth clashed.

Biggs said, ”Kalil, he have a blockage on his ‘t’s.’” Different tack. ”Does your speech specialist help you with those?”

Another nod.

”Tell me how.”

A couple of deep breaths before, ”She has me say my name, real slow. Then for fluency we do different inflections on words and other speech p-p-patterns.”

Biggs said, ”He have trouble with his ‘p’s,’ too.”

”What else does your specialist do?”

Kalil took another deep breath. ”She says there’s almost t-t-two and a half million of us in America who stammer. That people like Marilyn Monroe and this English guy Winston Churchill did, too, and they learned how t-t-to deal with it.” A near-smile. ”She says I’m lucky, on account of I just got blockages on p-p-particular syllables.”

Shy and awkward he might be, but bright. ”Kalil, I know this isn’t pleasant for you. However, Mr. Helides hired me to try and find out what happened the day of the birthday party, and I need your help for that.”

The tiny nod again.

I waited a moment, then said, ”But I also need you to tell me what you remember in your own words, and I’m in no rush here, so you can take your time.”

Kalil looked up at me, holding the gaze longer than before. ”Ask your questions.”

”When did you meet Veronica?”

”Couple years ago.” Deep breath. ”I had p-p-problems in school, so we had some classes t-t-together even though she was younger than me. Since our daddies knew each other, she t-t-talked with—”

A hummingbird zoomed to the feeder, and Kalil jumped half out of his chair. ”Damn b-b-bird.”

Biggs said, ”When he get scared of something, he have troubles with—”

”I’m not scared! It was just a b-b-b-b...”

Kalil stopped, the teeth clashing again as he clenched and looked down at his hands, twisting in his lap.

I gave him a moment before, ”Did you like Veronica?” The tiny nod.

I took a chance. ”Why?”

Kalil glanced up at me briefly before returning to his lap. ”She never made fun of me.”

”How often did you see her?”

A shrug. ”Last year a lot, account of the classes we had t-t-together.”

”Every day?”

”Most school days.”

”And this year?”

”Not so much, once her daddy t-t-took her out.”

”To be tutored by Duy Tranh.”

Another nod.

”Kalil, did Veronica like Mr. Tranh?”

”I guess.”

”She ever tell you about problems with him?”

Kalil shook his head.

A different tack. ”Can you tell me why you wanted to videotape the party?”

Another glance up. ”My speech specialist, she thinks it’s a good idea for us t-t-to do that kind of stuff.”

”What kind of stuff?”

Biggs broke in. ”Things like painting or photography, babe, shit that don’t need no talking.”

I looked over at him. ”Mr. Biggs, please?”

”I pay for the speech woman to help him, I can tell you what she think.”

”Yes, you can. I’d just rather hear it from Kalil, okay?” Biggs sat back in the chair, reaching for his cigarette pack before catching himself.

I returned to Kalil. ”You enjoy videotaping?”

Tiny nod.

”Have you been doing it long?”

A shrug.

”How long, Kalil?”

He looked over toward his father. ”Daddy got me the camera for Christmas, when my specialist said it was a good idea.”

”So, as of the time of the birthday party at Mr. Helides’s house, you’d had the camera for only a few weeks?”

”I guess.”

Might explain why he didn’t turn on the audio at first, but I asked anyway.

Kalil shook his head. ”Just forgot, with everybody running around the house.”

”Where around the house?”

”Everywhere. The living room, the kitchen, the p-p-p-p...”

Neck and jaw.

I said, ”The pool, Kalil?”

A nod.

”Did you go swimming that day?”

Another nod.

”Tell me about it?”

”We all went, mostly.”

”Who didn’t?”

”I don’t know. Just didn’t see everybody there when I was.”

”Was Veronica in the pool when you were?”

Again the nod.

”Why didn’t you use your camera then?”

Kalil looked up, and his father came forward in the third chair.

The son said, ”What?”

”Why didn’t you shoot tape of the pool part of the birthday?”

”Camera’s not supposed t-t-to get wet.”

Biggs said, ”I pay near fifteen hundred for that thing, babe. Damn well not gonna get it ruint.”

I glanced at him, and he sat back again.

”Kalil, why did you want the other cameras turned off during the party?”

A head shake this time.

”I mean the security cameras in Mr. Helides’s house.” He looked at me, then his father, then me again. ”It’s like I t-t-told the p-p-police.”

”Told them what?”

Hesitation. ”Was Very’s idea.”

”Veronica wanted the other cameras off?”

A double nod this time.

”Kalil, did she give you a reason?”

Just one nod now.

”What was it?”

”Very said I was supposed to have only mine.”

”Only yours?”

”Only my t-t-tape of her singing, for her granddaddy.” Which was when Kalil had turned on the camera’s audio. ”Did Veronica tell you why?”

”She just wanted it her way. Very was like that.” Something clicked for me. ”Didn’t it strike you as odd?”

”I just t-t-told you. She was—”

”Odd that Veronica wouldn’t want her grandfather to have a videotape of his own birthday party?”

A shrug.

Buford Biggs said, ”Could of just dubbed him one, after Kalil took the original.”

I looked at the father. Even though what he said was true, I didn’t think it was the truth.

Back to his son. ”Kalil, why didn’t you keep filming the party after Veronica sang?”

”Didn’t seem much sense t-t-to, everybody mad and all.”

”I don’t think that’s it.”

A stare this time, for the first time.

”I think Veronica told you to start the audio only when she began singing, and to stop the tape after she finished.” Kalil’s mouth opened as his father said to me, ”The hell you talking about, babe?”

”Your son didn’t just forget to engage the audio part of the camera at the beginning of the party. Veronica wanted him to do it that way, so she’d be the center of attention, even on the tape of her own grandfather’s birthday celebration.” I turned to my right. ”Kalil, that’s what happened, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure what would come out of the young man’s mouth until he began to wail, jumping up from the chair and running toward the sliding glass door.

”Very wanted me t-t-to have it, like the others. She was so b-b-beautiful.” Kalil couldn’t get the door to move. ”She d-d-didn’t have t-t-to d-d-die.”

He finally slid the door open, then didn’t close it after running inside.

Buford Biggs stood abruptly in front of me, his hands more fists at the end of his stringy forearms. ”Mother-
fucke
r
, you see what you done?”

I didn’t get up with him. ”Did your son take any other videos of Veronica Held?”

”You can piss shit, Mr. Mother-fucker, before me or my son talk to you again.”

”Mr. Biggs, where were you and Kalil after Veronica left her grandfather’s living room?”

I watched Buford Biggs stalk off toward the open doorway, sliding it violently shut behind him. Then I stayed in my chair a little longer, but not to wait for the hummingbirds this time.

I’d risen about halfway from my seat toward going back inside the house when the sliding glass door opened again and Malinda Dujong stepped out onto the patio. As she slid it back into place and came toward me, I stood all the way up and paid more attention to what she was wearing: a bright, silky dress that seemed custom-tailored as it floated with her strides, the shoulders padded a little above the delicate bone structure, the hem riding just south of her knees. Dujong’s calves were slim and perfectly shaped, heeled sandals on her feet. The closer she got, the more her eyes arrested me again, set deep in a face framed by lustrous black hair.

Dujong said, ”Kalil and then Buford go by me inside. They are very upset.”

I gestured at the chair Biggs, Sr., had been using. ‘Tour concern for them spares me trying to find you. Sit, please.”

Dujong looked at both empty chairs, then took the one I’d indicated, crossing her legs and smoothing the dress down over her knees. ”You say something to them?”

”I asked Kalil questions that he and his father didn’t like.”

A measuring stare, the irises seeming almost as black as the pupils. ”I hope I am not wrong about you, Mr. Cuddy.”

”Wrong?”

”When I believe that you do not hurt innocent people intentionally.”

”Innocence is a relative quality.”

”Relative.” A different stare. ”You make fun that Buford and Kalil are father and son?”

”No. I mean that there are degrees of innocence, just like there are degrees of guilt.”

”I understand now.” Dujong blinked twice. ”Why do you want to talk with me?”

”I’d like to find out what you know about Veronica Held’s death.”

”But I was not at the Colonel’s birthday party.”

Given the welter of people I’d seen on the video in Sergeant Lourdes Pintana’s office, I hadn’t noticed whether Dujong was there or not. I reached into my inside jacket pocket and took out the list of guests Justo Vega had made for me. She wasn’t on it.

Without leaning forward, Dujong said, ”The names of the people at the party?”

I folded the paper and slid it back into my pocket. ”Are you psychic as well as a spiritual advisor?”

”Yes.”

No hesitation, no hint of humor. Just quiet confidence in the answer. ”Then what am I thinking now, Ms. Dujong?”