“Like a sack of cold slimy Spam giving you a full-front tackle,” Ben answered. “Except it turns out not to be Spam.”
Denny shook all over. “Brrrrrrr. Glad it wasn’t me. Worse than fingernails on the chalkboard.”
“Much.” Ben tried to get back on track. “Did you hear anyone say anything unusual?”
“Not that I recall. Well, just Earl. Muttering about something—I didn’t know what. Man, he was really uptight that night.”
Ben nodded. “Diane told me she thought you seemed rather uptight yourself.”
“Me? Hell, I’m always uptight before a show. Stage jitters, that’s all.”
“You’ve probably heard that I saw some guy who said he was delivering a rug. I don’t suppose you saw him, by any chance?”
“ ’Fraid not. After we finished rehearsing, I went out to have a smoke and pray. I like to get in a worshipful mood before we perform. So I walked out toward the woods till I found a place I could be alone.”
“So you could … pray?”
“Right.”
Ben’s lips parted. “But you didn’t—”
Denny laughed. “No, Ben, I didn’t strip off my clothes. That isn’t a requisite, you know. We do it here, where we have some privacy, because we think it brings us closer to God. But I don’t do it, like, in the middle of the workday. What do you think I am, some kind of nut?”
“Perish the thought.” Ben decided to try another tack. “How long have you known Earl?”
“ ’Bout a year. Since he opened the club.”
“Not before?”
He shook his head. “I’d heard his name, mind you. I was playing some clubs down in Dallas and Oklahoma City. Of course, whenever people started talking jazz sax, someone would mention Earl Bonner. Earl Bonner and the great Professor Hoodoo. They’d tell the whole story. You know, how they were the best of friends and played together like magic, but then they fell in love with the same woman, and Earl blew the Professor away. It’s almost a legend now. Like Frankie and Johnny.”
“So you knew Earl had done time for that murder.”
“Oh, sure.”
“And you assumed he was guilty.”
“I think everyone assumed he was guilty, Ben. It, like, went without saying, you know?”
“And that didn’t bother you?”
Denny grinned. “What, like, he might come after me next?” He chuckled softly. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t cross the man. Covet not another dude’s squeeze. That’s my motto.”
Words to live by, Ben thought. “Still, if he lost his temper once …”
“Hey, everyone’s got a temper, okay?” For the first time Denny was showing a trace of his. “You just have to learn to keep it under control. And Earl’s had twenty-two long years to practice, okay? Next question.”
Ben squinted. What had he triggered? “Did you ever hear Earl talk about … what happened before?”
“Of course not, man. That’s not somethin’ a man drops into casual conversation.”
“Can you think of anything else you know about the murder?”
“Which one? You seem to be investigating both.”
Ben paused. He supposed he was at that. But that grisly smile told him that the two killings were connected. Or that someone wanted it believed they were, at any rate. “Either one.”
“Well, the expert on Professor Hoodoo would be Scat. Scat goes back further than Earl or the Professor combined. He’s been playin’ forever, man. Word is he taught Gabriel how to blow.”
“And he was with them at the time of the first murder?”
“I think so. They were thick as thieves. Played together, worked together. Inseparable. Till they were separated by the law, that is. And the grim reaper.” He smiled. “But Scat’s the expert on Professor Hoodoo. I’d talk to him if you’re really interested in this whole big back-story thing.”
Given the circumstances, Ben thought, that seemed like pretty good advice.
“For that matter, didn’t Hoodoo have a brother?”
Ben snapped his fingers. “That’s right—Grady Armstrong. I met him at the club.”
“He might have some light to shed on the situation.”
Ben made a mental note. Maybe he would at that.
He glanced up at the front of the arena. The preacher was still bellowing away, raising his fist, giving the call to action—without a single reference to the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothing.
“How long have you been a member of this group?” Ben asked.
Denny shrugged. “ ’Bout three years now.”
“Mind if I ask how you got into it?”
Denny hesitated a moment. “A few years back … I was pretty messed up. You know, drugs and all. I was taking uppers before I played, downers to sleep. Coke for a good time. Almost all the musicians I knew did it. Difference was, they could handle it. I couldn’t. Pretty soon, I was so screwed up, I didn’t know night from day. Didn’t know when I was on and when I was off. Used to be the music was all I needed to get me through, you know? But after a while, that wasn’t enough. I needed the junk. I needed the bright lights. Truth is, I was about one short step from a pine box. And I knew it.” He inhaled slowly. “I knew it, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
He paused before looking up again. “And then Rona Harris introduced me to this place. Now, it’s not like everything changed all at once. I was a junkie; I had to dry out. But they helped me, you know? They got me through it. I felt for the first time like someone really cared.”
“I know how important that is,” Ben said.
“Once I had my head clear, I took to this place like a duck to water. I believed what the preachers had to say. And this whole business of taking your clothes off—it may sound like nothing to you, but I found it liberating. Like I didn’t have to hide anymore. Like the real me was set free.” He smiled. “I still play the music, as well you know. But I don’t feel like I have to. It’s something I do, but it doesn’t own me. It doesn’t control me. It’s part of my life, but it’s not my life. Am I making any sense?”
Ben nodded. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“Hey, it’s not just me. It could work out for you, too.”
“Well …”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Ben, you seem a little tight, you know? All locked away. If you started coming out here, you could feel a little … freer.”
“I don’t think I want to be that free.”
“What’s the big deal? People make such a fuss about nudity—it’s not like we’re having some big orgy out here. It seems strange, but it’s almost a totally asexual experience.”
“Asexual,” Ben echoed.
“Right. We’re all so used to it, we hardly even notice.”
“I would notice,” Ben said emphatically.
“Maybe at first, but that would pass. You’d forget about the need to hide and start to just—well, be who you really are.”
Good grief, Ben thought, are we back to that again? “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You should.” He glanced over Ben’s shoulder and saw Kerrie waiting in the background. “Like I said, it could be a meaningful spiritual experience.”
“That’s what you said.”
“And, if it turns out I’m wrong, hey—that Kerrie is a hot chick.”
Ben tried not to smile. “In a totally asexual way.”
Denny winked. “My thoughts exactly.”
Chapter 29
TYRONE THREADED HIS way through the mazelike alleyways of the condemned Rockwood section of North Tulsa. It was already dark, and the streetlights had all been broken out a long time ago. No one bothered to replace them. After all, no one lived out here anymore, right? No one was supposed to, anyway.
He tried to remember the path that took him where he needed to go. All of these buildings were crumbling, barely enough remained to be called ruins. They were just worthless piles of rubble waiting for someone to care enough to bring in a wrecking ball and lay it all flat. He felt like Theseus trailing his way through the Minotaur’s labyrinth, something he’d read about in one of Earl’s books. ’Cept he didn’t have any string with him at the moment; he would have to rely on memory. And make sure he didn’t bump into the Minotaur.