I had gathered the four of them together in Og's room. Chez was on the recliner in the corner, biting his nails. Hookie was on a barstool, pouring himself whatever wasn't nailed down. Rommel sat on the couch, using Og as a footstool.
"Where's Aspen? I wanted him here as well."
Chez stopped his nail-biting long enough to answer me. "He's in the hospital. One of those cigarettes finally got him, and he set himself on fire with it. Superficial burns, though, he should be back in no time."
"Look, what's this all about, Guts? We've got a show in less than three hours. Have you caught the killer yet?"
"Not yet, Rommel, but I'm getting very close."
"Oh, come on, man, you've had all day! When are you going to..."
His eyes locked on to the apple resting in my hand. As I started tossing it up and down, the other two sat up and followed it with their eyes.
It was Chez who broke the silence. "Hey, be careful with that. Can't those things explode or something?"
"Well, I hadn't heard of that happening, but I have recently discovered that apples are excellent memory aids."
Hookie put down his glass. "So, you figured it out. Well, I'm glad. I, for one, am tired of living this lie."
Rommel slumped back on the couch. "So what happens, now? You blackmail us to keep quiet?"
"Now that hurts. Don't you understand what's going on? You start using some long-forgotten songs that were never recorded or copyrighted, make a fortune with them, and suddenly somebody's trying to kill you. Find the original songwriter, and you've found someone with a motive!"
"You mean that one of those singers from Apple records is after us?"
"Right. Figure out which one it is, and you've got you're killer. Do you know the writer's name?"
"No, but we can find out." Chez leapt from his chair, snatched the apple from my hand, and stuck it in Og's face. "Mr. Hanson, you were telling us about the auditions this morning."
As Og gazed into the apple, his expression changed. He suddenly realized he was down on all fours, with Rommel's feet on his back. He stood up, and angrily brushed Rommel off him. "Mr. Starr, I've asked you before to keep your feet off of me!"
Chez grabbed his shoulders. "Never mind that now, Hanson. I've got to know the names of the people you auditioned this morning."
"All of them, Mr. Lennon?"
"All you can remember, Hanson."
"Well, let's see...Jimmy Jason, Melinda Baker, a group called the Woof's, Allister and the Roos,..."
Click!
"From Australia?"
"Why, yes, Mr. McCartney, I believe so. Have you heard of them?"
"Allister's first name is Gordon?"
"That's right."
"Describe him."
"Oh...well, let's see, tall, a bit thin, muscular, great tan, early twenties..."
"My, God, it's him! Our own roadie is out to get us!"
"Blimey, what did I say?"
"Never mind, Hanson. Here, have an apple."
"Oh, thanks." He bit it, dropped it, and slumped to the couch, that faraway look back in his eyes.
"Gentleman, we've got a problem. We're up against a guy who knows his way inside-out through a concert tour. He's got complete access to every aspect of the concert, and has probably already laid out all kinds of traps for you from here to the Hollywood Bowl. He'll stop at nothing to keep you from making that show."
"Swell. When do we leave?"
"You mean you want to go through with this?"
"Why not? You're here, aren't you? You'll protect us. Or you won't get paid."
"Ok, guys, but remember one thing - in a rock concert, no one can hear you scream."
"Big deal", mumbled Hookie, "they usually can't hear us sing, either."
"Well, if we're going, let's go. We should have been on our way there ten minutes ago. Hookie, you get Og's feet. Rommel and I will carry the other end. Lead the way, Guts."
As the three of them struggled to pick up their drummer, I checked my ammo clips. Then I slipped over to the door, peeked up and down the hall, and motioned the others to follow me.
We made it safely to the back stairs, and quickly stumbled down 14 floors to the garage. I moved in first, ducking behind cars, until the band's limo was in sight. As we started to get up to make a run for the car, we were all suddenly thrown back as it exploded.
"Damn!", cried Rommel, "My favorite shades were in there!"
I smiled at him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go in there and get them!"
"So, what now, Guts? What do we use for wheels?"
"This could be more dangerous than I thought, Chez. We may have to take a cab."
TO BE CONCLUDED...