Painted Black (24 page)

“I'm not Brian!”

He reached for the bedside phone as he held her down. The cops and ambulance were there within minutes.

The medical technicians bandaged Bobby up on the spot. He only needed a few stitches as his wounds were mostly superficial. He had been lucky; Renee hadn't pierced any vital organs or arteries.

The cops asked Bobby questions for the rest of the night. “You say you know this woman?”

“I've seen her around. She's a groupie.”

“And you say she's obsessed with Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones? Is he here?”

Bobby said, “No. The woman thought she was attacking Brian Jones instead of me. Even after she saw my face, she still thought I was Brian. She even called me Brian.”

“So she was stalking Mr. Jones?”

“Yes, Brian stayed here once or twice to get away from the press. He was only here a few days, but Renee must have followed him. And when I came in and tiptoed to the bedroom, she assumed I was Brian coming back.”

“And then she attacked you with this?”

The detective held up a WWII German SS ceremonial dagger. Bobby's eyes got big. “I didn't notice it at first.”

“This is quite like the murder weapon in the case of Claudine Jillian.”

“The Nazi Ripper? Do you think Renee is the Nazi Ripper? Nah, that's too far out. What would be her motive?”

“Jealousy. Brian admitted to having sex with Miss Jillian the night before she was murdered. It's possible that Renee found out. Maybe it was an act of revenge.”

“That's the only link we have right now.”

Chapter Nineteen

Rock and Roll Circus

During the night of police questioning, Bobby called Clovis and told him what happened. Clovis phoned Brian and roused him and came down right away, but Brian took a few more hours to get ready. By noon, they had all gathered at a restaurant near the police station.

“I'll tell you, boys. I can't stand this town anymore. It's just one big obstacle course for me. To make matters worse, the cops just released Renee. They said they insufficient evidence to hold her any longer.”

“That's outrageous!”

“What about the knife?”

“I wasn't the same knife, just a similar one. Her trial on assault with a deadly weapon is coming up, but for now she's out free. I'm pretty sure she wants to kill me. Rather than protect me, the cops are always waiting to pounce. I'm sick of all this harassment. I'm getting out.”

Clovis and Bobby stared at Brian and blinked.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Brian smiled. “I'm going to buy a country house and live outside London.”

Brian seemed proud of himself. He looked at Bobby and Clovis for their reaction. They didn't know how to react.

Neither one had ever lived in a proper English country house, something along the lines of Keith's Redlands Estate. But in typical Brian Jones fashion, their friend was anxious to get started. Brian wanted Bobby to call a real estate agent and start looking at houses immediately.

“Why such a hurry?” Clovis asked.

“The cops are watching me. I'm sunk if I get busted again. From now on, no more dope in the house. I'm going back to drinking.”

“What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Something magic,” Brian replied. “Something with history.”

Bobby purchased some newspapers and real estate magazines. Almost immediately, a property jumped out at him.

He ran back to Brian to tell him. “Cotchford Farm is for sale down in East Sussex, about one hour and twenty minutes from London. It's the home of A. A. Milne, the author of the Winnie-the-Pooh books. The place is owned by an elderly American couple who would like to sell it.”

“That's fantastic! Tell me more!”

“Built in the mid-sixteenth century, it has three floors, six bedrooms, three bathrooms, exposed timbers and beams, several fireplaces, a drawing room, study, family room, and bookshelves throughout. It's got private gardens and a heated outdoor pool, plus an ornamental fishpond and several statues of Christopher Robin. It is surrounded by a five-hundred-acre wood.”

“That sounds perfect!” Brian crowed. “Let's drive down and see it straightaway.”

Clovis drove Brian's Rolls south of London, through Dartford, where Mick and Keith grew up, and south on the M25 to Hartfield.

They found the property without much trouble. As they drove up, Brian had his face against the windshield. He was enthralled. Most English children grow up with Winnie-the-Pooh, and here was Brian, about to return to ground zero as an adult.

As he got out of the car and breathed in the tranquil afternoon, Brian fell in love. It didn't take more a few minutes for him to become entranced with every aspect of Cotchford Farm. He loved the quietly babbling fishpond, the heated pool, the gentle breeze through the fragrant gardens, the stone statues of Christopher Robin, and the feeling of utter safety and contentment he got from the old house. The American couple who owned the property, the Taylors, were somewhat taken aback by Brian's appearance, but once he turned on the charm, they were happy to take his money. In fact, Clovis had never seen Brian this ebullient.

The couple walked Brian through the house and pointed out everything of interest. Brian had already made up his mind. He wanted Cotchford Farm. He couldn't wait to move in. Something about the place attracted him. He felt as if he were finally going home, the place where he would spend his days.

Bobby and Brian conferred with the Taylor's real estate agent in another room, going over details of the sale. Brian left the negotiations to Bobby. He got a great price at thirty thousand English pounds (about seventy-two thousand dollars at the time) and Brian wrote a check. He had more than enough money, of course.

When it was over, Brian stood in the living room and grinned. He spread his arms. “It's mine, all mine.”

“Welcome home, pardner,” Clovis said.

“Let's start moving in immediately.”

“Wait a minute, do you mean me and Dust Bin Bob are going to move you in?”

Brian smiled. “Well …”

“No way, José.” Clovis replied. “You hire some professional moving men and we'll point to where they should put the furniture.”

“Very well. Gentlemen, welcome to Cotchford Farm, the new lair of Brian Jones.”

Brian wandered off looking at rooms and spaces. The house had three stories, but there were so many staggered levels and mezzanines, it was impossible to tell how many levels there actually were. Everywhere he looked were the unmistakable signs of A. A. Milne. He had written all the Winnie-the-Pooh classics right there in those rooms.

They drove back to London for the release party of new Stones album,
Beggar's Banquet
. Clovis accompanied Brian. The rest of the band treated him as if he'd just stepped in dog shit. Clovis watched how they went out of their way to alienate Brian and it made him sad. It also pissed him off. He knew Brian's worth to the band, and this just wasn't fair.

However,
Beggar's Banquet
was a masterpiece. Brian Jones had helped lead the Stones back to their R&B roots. Brian had put his imprint on the album with brilliant slide guitar on “No Expectations” and “Stray Cat Blues,” harmonica on “Parachute Woman,” “Dear Doctor,” and “Prodigal Son”
,
and a host of other instruments on other songs. Brian felt good about his contributions, but the Stones never seemed satisfied by his efforts.

The Rolling Stones jumped into their next project, a TV special called
The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus
, a bizarre mix of midgets, jugglers, clowns, fire eaters, and of course, rock and roll. It was to promote
Beggar's Banquet
. The show featured several popular groups of the day, including Jethro Tull, the Who, Marianne Faithfull, Taj Mahal, and John Lennon fronting a supergroup made up of Eric Clapton on guitar, Keith Richards on bass, and Jimi Hendrix's drummer, Mitch Mitchell. They called themselves The Dirty Mac.

Brian wandered around zonked out of his head. It embarrassed Clovis and Bobby, who were accompanying him. Why did he feel the need to be stoned around his peers? It was as if he were subconsciously trying to fail. Determined to keep him straight, they kept pumping coffee into him and making him wash his face with cold water.

The shoot started early and ran until very late. A studio audience was brought in to simulate a live concert. The day started brilliantly. Everybody sounded great. Everyone there, including the Stones, thought the Who stole the show. They performed their mini-rock opera
A Quick One While He's Away
.

As the afternoon turned into evening, and evening turned into late evening, and late evening turned into early morning, the Stones finally went on. But, they had misjudged the situation. The audience at this point was too tired to react and the Stones seemed to force their performance. The set sounded flat compared to the Who. The band was clearly exhausted after a full day of shooting. Overall, it was not a particularly good performance, and the Stones ultimately decided to put it on the shelf.

Brian had fun hanging around with the other musicians. Most of the groups had to make do with tiny dressing cubicles, except the Stones and John Lennon. John had demanded and got a full-size star's motor home plus another room in which his supergroup could tune up.

Brian and Bobby ran into John backstage. He was with the tiny Japanese conceptual artist everybody was talking about named Yoko Ono. Bobby, as close as he was to John, had never met Yoko. In fact, John had become somewhat reclusive since he and Yoko had been together. Old friends dropped away; he stopped calling people. Such is often the case with new lovers; the rest of the world seems to fade into the background. They prefer each other's company to old friends and colleagues.

John hugged Brian. “How's it goin', mate? How's your love life?”

Brian responded with a moment of stoned confusion. “Why? What have you heard?”

John leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

“Whoa, slow down. I haven't heard anything. Why are you so paranoid? Brian, we need to talk.”

John Lennon led Brian and Bobby to his motor home dressing room. Yoko followed silently by John's side. Once they got inside, Yoko surprised Bobby by locking the door. She looked at Bobby and blushed.

“So John won't be disturbed,” she said in a tiny little teacup voice.

“How about the rest of us?” Bobby wisecracked, but Yoko didn't get it. “I'm here, too.”

John put a hand on Brian's shoulder. “Okay, what's going on?”

Brian cast his eyes down. “The rest of the band hates me, and I'm in serious danger of getting fired from the group.”

John shook his head. “You're in danger of getting fired from the group you started? Ha! Fuck them. You should quit right now, right here today. You're the star of that band. I tell you what, let's make a deal: you quit your band and I'll quit mine, and we'll start a supergroup. We can have anyone we want.”

Brian smiled. “That's incredibly kind of you, John.”

“I'm serious. You have your whole life in front of you, and you can do whatever you want. You're a great musician, man, act like it.”

“Sometimes I feel like giving up …”

“Shirrup!” John spat. “That's loser talk! You're the original Rolling Stone. Don't sit around waiting for the ax to fall, quit now. You can start a new band anytime you want. I'll help you. We can play all the blues you want.”

“Thanks, John. … I don't know what to say.”

“I saw the way they treated you.” John nodded toward the door. “They spit on you. I don't like that. You should see the way my guys spit on Yoko. They treated her like a dog. You have to take the bull by the horns, Brian. Fuck the Stones and the Beatles; they're yesterday's papers. Let's form our own group and get back to the roots.”

John's treasonous words hung in the air like a battle cry. He didn't care. He spoke bluntly.

Brian smiled. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Bobby changed the subject. He said to John, “Brian bought a country house. Cotchford Farm in Hartfield, Sussex. The former home of A. A. Milne.”

“Christopher Robin? Winnie-the-Pooh?”

“Yes,” Brian said. “The place is magic; you must come visit once I'm moved in.”

“We can rehearse there in complete privacy.”

Someone knocked on the door. Yoko answered. It was Eric Clapton. “Sound check, lads.”

In the end, BBC never aired
The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus
. The Stones thought their performance was flat. The Dirty Mac never appeared again, John soon changed their name to the Plastic Ono Band.

Erlene and Cricket arrived in London with three-year-old Winston. Bobby cried when he saw them. He knew Cricket was miserable in London, but they wanted to stay together through the Brian Jones crisis as much as possible. They had decided to move back to Baltimore as soon as things calmed down for Brian. Clovis and Erlene had also changed their plans. Now they intended to live together in London during her pregnancy. Once the child was born, they would return to Baltimore. Erlene needed to stay close to her man. She was convinced that Eleanor Rigby had passed a message to her, and as long as Bobby and Clovis stayed with Brian, nothing bad would happen.

The next morning, Clovis and Bobby drove down to Cotchford Farm. Brian had already parked his Roll-Royce there and had installed his latest girlfriend, blonde Swedish dancer Anna Wohlin. Anna was protective of Brian, and unlike Anita, they got along perfectly. Brian banned all drugs from his property. He even went so far as to search people coming in. From now on, it would be nothing stronger than alcohol. Anna busied herself in the kitchen, and Brian fussed like an old lady. The house rejuvenated him. The spirit of Christopher Robin lived in every nook and cranny. It revitalized him.

Cotchford changed Brian almost overnight.

“I feel like I'm finally home,” he said. “I never want to leave this place. I'll stay here until I die.”

He showed Bobby and Clovis the room that he wanted to rebuild into a recording studio. Clovis checked it out, measured a few things, and pronounced the studio absolutely doable.

He had just enough room to install a multitrack board, and an Ampex 16-track tape recorder in the control room, and still have room for the studio itself. Brian suggested Clovis steal microphones from Olympic Recording, but he refused.

“It would wreck my karma,” he said. “It's taken me a long time to get it right.”

“That's why I love you so much, Clovis, you are a righteous dude.”

Clovis grinned. “Ain't no big deal. … If I steal something from the studio, before the day is over, someone will have stolen something from me. That's how flat my karma is right now.”

Brian said, “Can you put together a budget for the studio? I have no idea what's it's going to cost.”

“No problemo, pardner. I'll give you a price for the equipment, and a price for the construction work. Shouldn't be too bad.”

“Bobby, have you had a chance to develop the pictures from Joujouka?”

“I have to take them to a lab that specializes in custom low-light exposures. It's going to take a little extra time and cost a bit more money. I haven't had a chance to drop off the film yet.”

“Can you get started on that?”

“Sure, just as soon as I get back to London.”