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Authors: Mark Timlin

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BOOK: Zip Gun Boogie
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16

I
went down to the restaurant on the ground floor. Although it was early, it was crowded with road crew and the sort of ancillaries to
Pandora's Box
that Prendegast Jr had referred to. It was almost as if they were huddled together for comfort. Even though the room was full, it was strangely silent, and no one seemed to be doing much eating. Instead there were whispered conversations at each table, and much coffee and many cigarettes were being consumed. There were no band members present. I saw Chick and Seltza at a corner table with Chippy. I went over.

Chippy looked up and saw me coming. ‘Fucking Magnum PI,' he said as I got to the table. Seltza shushed him. All three roadies were white-faced and looked angry. ‘Hi, Nick,' said Seltza. ‘Bad morning, yeah?'

‘Yeah,' I agreed.

‘Sit down, buddy,' he said. ‘Want something to eat?'

I didn't feel hungry, but I thought I might be able to chase some scrambled egg around a plate. The waiter took my order when he arrived with two pots of freshly brewed coffee for the table. I helped myself to a cup and one of Seltza's cigarettes.

‘Did you guys get any sleep?' I asked.

‘No, man,' said Chick. ‘It wasn't that kind of night.'

‘How long were you with the police?' I asked.

‘Too long,' answered Seltza. ‘But then some British attorney showed up and the cops let me go. You?'

‘The same.'

‘Me too,' said Chick. ‘There's gotta be some advantages to working for a rich band.'

‘Yeah,' said Chippy. ‘You can end up getting murdered for a grand and a half a week plus exes. I'd rather work for a poor band and stay healthy.'

The other two nodded as if in agreement.

‘Shit, man,' said Seltza, ‘I'd like to get my hands on whoever did that to Turdo. We go back a long way. A long, long way.' There was nothing for me to add to that. We all suffer our losses, and we all have to cope with them the best we can. ‘Have you seen the papers?' he asked.

‘Briefly,' I replied. ‘They're having a field day.'

‘They're loving every minute of my buddy getting killed,' he said bitterly. ‘There's a whole bunch of reporters outside. The English press. Man, they're shit! If I bump into one of them down a dark alley, they'll wish I hadn't.'

There was nothing for me to add to that either. ‘It sells,' was all I could think of.

‘Who do you think did it?' asked Seltza after a minute.

‘God knows,' I replied. ‘You got there before me. What do you think?'

‘I think there's a real crazy running around this hotel. I don't like it, man.'

‘What are you going to do about it?' I asked.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at me, and I wished I hadn't.

‘You mean am I going to quit?' he asked quietly.

‘That's about it.'

‘No, man. I signed on for the duration. Win, lose or draw. If some fucker wants to see me out of here, he's not going to get the satisfaction, whoever he is.' The other two mumbled their agreement.

‘Good,' I said.

The waiter arrived with my order, but the sight and smell of the eggs made me feel vaguely nauseous and I pushed the plate away. I poured a second cup of coffee and lit another of Seltza's Malboros.

At that point Prendegast Jr came into the room. He looked round, then made for our table. ‘Gentlemen,' he said, ‘the police are here again. They have a few more questions, and they want to take a simple statement from each of you. Naturally you will all have a solicitor present throughout. There's nothing to worry about. I've been asked to liaise with the police as well as acting for Mr Sharman. The statements are being taken in the snooker room in the basement.'

‘Just us?' I asked.

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Are we the only ones being questioned?'

‘No, no, no. Everyone in the hotel is being interviewed. But the police are particularly interested in the people who were present when the body was found and directly after.'

‘What happened to Jane and Maddy?' asked Seltza.

‘They were found accommodation here. The hotel doctor put Miss Hillman under sedation. The police will talk to them later.'

‘When do they want to see me?' I asked.

‘When do you want to see them?'

‘I'd like to see Ninotchka first.'

He didn't ask me why. I liked that. It showed trust, and a certain healthy respect for one of the people who'd ultimately be paying his fee. ‘Go and see her then,' he said. ‘The police are being very co-operative. This is an extremely delicate case. They're handling it with the proverbial kid gloves.'

‘You mean there's rich and famous people involved, and the newspapers are beating the doors down?' I said.

‘Believe me, it's an advantage. It keeps everything legal and above board. I'm sure we wouldn't want it any other way.'

I was sure too. I'd seen a few cases that hadn't been and I hadn't liked them. ‘Have they got any leads?' I asked.

‘None that they're prepared to share with me. Now you'd better go if you're going, and go that way.' He gestured towards the kitchen. ‘There are a couple of uniformed officers outside. I don't want them to see you before you're prepared to be seen.'

I did as he suggested. I went into the kitchen, and after a quiet word with the waiter who'd served me earlier, through the staff quarters and up the back stairs to the top floor of the hotel and Ninotchka's suite.

On the landing inside the connecting door between the staircase and the corridor were two Premiere security men. They must have heard me coming up. It wouldn't have been difficult. It was a long climb and I'm not as fit as I should be. They were both standing in the shadows, and both held Smith & Wesson Model 38 Bodyguard Air-weight revolvers. After a bit you get to notice things like that. ‘Come up slowly,' said the smaller of the pair. ‘And let us see your hands are empty.'

I climbed the last few stairs, holding my hands well clear of my body. I recognised them as the pair who'd been in the entrance to the lift two days before to check me in.

‘Easy,' I said. ‘Remember me, Ronnie?'

‘Mr Sharman, isn't it?' he said, lowering his gun.

‘That's right. I want to see Ninotchka.'

‘Why use the back stairs?' asked the other, the one who wouldn't speak to me when we were in the lift together. Big Phil. I think my being brought in had hurt his professional pride.

‘I didn't want to run into any of the boys in blue until I'd had a chance to talk to her.'

Ronnie nodded as if it were par for the course, and took a radio telephone out of his jacket pocket and pressed the send button. ‘Premiere two to Premiere one,' he said.

‘Go ahead, Premiere two,' said a metallic voice from the small speaker.

‘I've got Mr Sharman here. He wants to see Ninotchka. OK to let him through?'

There was a pause. ‘Premiere two from Premiere one. Mr Sharman has access all areas. Escort him to her suite.'

‘Roger Roj,' said Ronnie and put the R/T away. ‘I'll walk you through, sir,' he said. ‘We've drafted in extra boys this morning and they won't know you. We don't want anyone getting over keen, do we?'

I certainly didn't. Not if they were the calibre of Big Phil and all carried S&Ws.

‘I'm obliged,' I said.

There was a Premiere man outside every door. They were all new faces, and I nodded politely to each and every one as I passed them. Outside Ninotchka's suite was another stranger. Ronnie knocked on the door and went in. ‘Just checking she's decent,' he said to me. ‘Wait here.' I did as I was told.

I looked at the security man and smiled my most pleasant smile. He nodded back. That was us, just two honest men trying to earn a crust in the best way we knew how. ‘How many inside?' I asked, nodding towards the door.

‘Enough,' he replied.

‘Bad business last night.'

‘So they say.'

He wasn't giving much away. ‘Think it might rain later?'

‘Possibly.'

I smiled a wry smile. Even he relaxed a little and showed his gums when he did.

The door behind him opened and Ronnie reappeared. ‘OK, Mac,' he said to the security man. ‘She'll see him.'

I stepped past Mac and into the sitting room of the suite. There were two more Premiere employees inside. Their name plates read ‘Stan' and ‘Hughie'. Stan was a man mountain with a completely shaven head and a track suit. Hughie had bright red hair and the look of a Scottish football hooligan.

‘She said for you to wait in there,' said Stan, and pointed to the door of the bedroom that had been converted into an office.

I nodded to Ronnie, and went in, and sat on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette.

Ninotchka joined me a few minutes later and closed the door behind her. She looked fine. ‘Hello,' she said. I could hear a certain coolness in her voice I hadn't heard before. I wondered if this was the start of the famous Ninotchka freeze out. What the hell? If it was, it was.

‘Why didn't you tell me?' I asked.

‘What?'

‘That you're strung out on horse. What else?'

‘It was none of your business.'

‘Come on, Ninotchka, don't give me that,' I said.

‘It wasn't.'

‘Yes, it was, under the circumstances. I thought you trusted me?'

‘I did. I do.'

‘Then why not tell me?'

She shrugged, but didn't elaborate further. The silence hung there like a shroud. ‘So what now?' she asked eventually. Then it was my turn to shrug at her, and we were both silent again.

She found a cigarette in a packet on the desk and made a big production out of lighting it. She blew out a stream of grey smoke through her teeth with a hiss. ‘Talking of trust,' she said, ‘Roger tells me you think I might be involved with Trash's OD.'

‘I never said that. What I said was that the police might think you were, if they knew what you were up to last night. One thing I do know – if whoever killed Turdo is the same one who tried to kill Shapiro, then it wasn't you. When it happened you were right here with me. Unless you've got accomplices and you're a very cool operator indeed. In fact, I know for sure of only two people who didn't do it. You and me.'

At that, she seem to relax visibly, stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray and came to me, and we held each other tightly. It was good to feel some human contact. ‘Thank God,' she said. ‘I thought from what Roger said…'

‘No,' I interrupted. ‘Roger was a bit freaked last night. We all were.'

‘Was it awful?'

‘I've seen worse, but not often.' I didn't really want to think about it.

‘Did you speak to the police yet?' she asked.

‘Last night for a while.'

‘They want to see me later.'

‘They want to see me now. Just make sure you've got a brief with you.'

‘A what?'

‘An attorney.'

‘Oh, yeah, sure.'

‘Your people have brought in a first-class firm. The best. Even the cops are shit scared of them. Now the only thing you've got to be worried about is any drugs you've got stashed away here.'

‘Roger came up last night and disposed of what was left. That's the trouble.'

‘What?'

‘I've got to get more.'

‘
Ninotchka
,' I said.

‘I need it.'

‘For Christ's sake!'

‘What the fuck do you know?'

‘OK,' I said, holding my hands up in surrender. ‘So get more.'

‘How the hell am I going to do that with the police all over the place?'

‘You're not in prison,' I said. ‘You will be allowed out later.'

‘Have you seen what it's like outside? It's a zoo. The press are everywhere.'

‘What about Don?'

‘He won't. I asked him before he went off duty. He says it's more than his job's worth.' I had to smile at that.

The ultimate excuse of the small-minded. ‘Will you?' she asked.

‘Me?'

‘All you have to do is pick up a parcel. It's already been arranged.'

‘From Elmo?'

She nodded.

‘That was quick.'

She nodded again.

If she expected me to argue, she was going to be disappointed. That was fine by me. He was just the man I wanted to speak to.

BOOK: Zip Gun Boogie
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