Death Sung Softly (14 page)

He rang the doorbell and waited only a moment before Samantha Harris answered. “Mr. Prichard,” she said, seeming surprised to see him. “What can I do for you?”

“You can answer just one question for me, Miss Harris, and then I'll go and leave you alone. You told me that it was Barry who called Jimmy Smith from your phone, and when I told you that Jimmy said it was you, you insisted that it was Barry. Trouble is, I'm quite certain now that you lied about that, and to be perfectly honest, I just need to know why. It was you who called Jimmy, wasn't it? Tell me why you lied to me.”

She looked for a moment like she was going to get angry, but then she seemed to collapse into herself. She looked at him for a long moment, and then said, “Barry died at Jimmy's place, didn't he?”

Sam nodded. “He did,” he said, “but it wasn't Jimmy who killed him. It was his wife, Sheila. She killed him because she said she caught him bringing Jimmy a note from you, saying that you wanted to start up your affair again.”

The woman almost did collapse, then, and had to lean against the door frame for support. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, God, I didn't know—I asked Barry to take the note because he said he was going to go and tell Jimmy in person that he wasn't going to sign. I never dreamed he'd run into her...”

“But he did, and now he's dead. Why did you really call Jimmy that day?”

She sighed. “I did call to tell him Barry wouldn't sign,” she said, “but I was gonna tell him I thought I could talk him into it. He never gave me a chance, though, he started yelling at me and saying I was the reason Barry wasn't listening to him. The truth was, I thought if I got Barry to sign, he might take me back, and maybe he'd realize how good we were together.”

“So you sent Barry there to leave a note saying you loved him? That's all it was? And you thought you could get Barry to go ahead and leave the band, so you were trying to use that to get close to Jimmy again?” He shook his head. “You didn't mean for anything bad to happen, I get that—but in the long run, it was your selfishness that cost Barry his life, and took away the future he could have had. You're an amazing piece of work, Miss Harris.”

Sam turned and walked away, ignoring the weeping woman who was shouting that she was sorry.

He got home about three in the afternoon, and told Indie all of it. She was as shocked as he had been at the way it all turned out, but she went with him to Stan's garage to meet up with the band. They were all there, fresh from Barry's funeral, just waiting after Sam had called them and asked them to get together, and he sat in one of the folding chairs and told the whole story again.

Chris stared into space, Stan got angry and began to pace around, Candy just sat there, and Janice went and sat in the grass outside and cried. Indie went and sat with her for a while, and finally the two of them came back into the garage.

“At least we know what happened,” Janice said, “and that means a lot, Sam.”

“Yeah, man, it does,” Chris said.

They sat and talked a little longer, and then Sam said he wasn't up to rehearsing that evening, so he and Indie went home to be with Kenzie.

They sat in the dining room and played go fish and old maid with her for a little while, but Kenzie was more interested in playing with Samson, so they let her go. Sam and Indie gathered up all the papers she'd printed out on the case and put them into a file, and marked it “Closed,” then went to make dinner. No one was feeling very energetic, so they settled for tuna salad sandwiches and chips that night.

They decided to watch a movie, and Sam said he wanted to see a comedy. He said life was too much sometimes, and he just needed a good laugh or two, so they found a movie that sounded good, and laughed themselves silly. By the time it was over, it was time for Kenzie to go to bed, and Sam and Indie went to bed only a few minutes later.

Sam was too quiet, Indie said, so she put some effort into getting his attention, and a few minutes later it dawned on him that everything was all right in his world.

The sun came through the curtains, which had been opened, and woke Sam around eight the next morning. He rolled over and saw that Indie wasn't there, so he got up and showered and went out to the kitchen. She was making omelets, and Kenzie was at the table. Sam put his finger to his lips, and Kenzie smiled and did the same as he snuck up on Indie and grabbed her from behind, then began kissing her neck and ears.

She squealed. “Sam!” she said. “Darn it, I've
told
you what that does to me! Stop it, or I'll sleep upstairs tonight!”

“Fine, fine,” he said, but he let her go and went to sit at the table with Kenzie. A few minutes later they were all eating omelets, and laughing and talking normally once again.

“So,” Sam said, “today we are going car shopping, but I was thinking that I already have one car too many, so I thought we'd trade off the van, and get us a family vehicle. I can drive the Vette as my personal car, and if I need the bigger car, you can drive it.”

Indie looked at him. “Um, Sam—I can't drive a stick shift.”

Sam smiled at her. “You can learn,” he said. “I'll teach you, and soon you'll be begging to drive the Vette! We'll just buy an extra car seat for Kenzie and keep it in the garage, for when one of us needs to take her somewhere in it.”

Indie smiled, and seemed excited about learning to drive the Corvette, but she was more interested in what kind of car they were going to buy that day.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “An SUV, maybe, something with four wheel drive, for the snow in the winter?”

“Now, that might be a good idea,” Indie said. “I hate driving in the winter time, but four wheel drive would make it a lot better.”

“And an SUV would mean more room for grocery shopping and such. I think we're onto something, here. Let's all get dressed and ready, and we'll go.”

Kenzie ran up the stairs, with Indie yelling at her not to run up the stairs, and Indie went to change out of her nightgown. Sam followed her and watched, his eyes roaming over her body as he smiled.

She caught him looking. “What?” she asked with a grin.

He smiled at her. “Baby,” he said, “I'm just admiring the view!”

Keep An Eye Out For Book III

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              David Archer was born and raised in Bakersfield, California. He is a fiction author and novelist, writing in the mysteries and thrillers genre. His approach to writing is to hit deep, keep you entertained, and leave you wanting MORE with every turn of the page. He writes mysteries, thrillers, and suspense novels, all of which are primed to get your heart pumping.