01 Rock 'n' Roll is Undead - Veronica Mason Read online

  “Nope. Besides, isn’t your car here?” I slumped my shoulders and leaned back against the seat. The tension in my back coiled tighter with each passing minute.

  “Yeah, Danny is waiting over there.” Kitty popped her gum and pointed.

  I looked over at the line of cars. Her boyfriend leaned against her white Toyota, chewing his fingernail. With sharp fangs like his, I doubted he ever had a problem with hangnails.

  “You’re handling this well.” She gave a half-hearted smile.

  I’d grown accustomed to the pitying smiles from everyone. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a situation that warranted them. But in spite of those times, this time was the most bizarre.

  “No way. I’m not handling it well, at all.” I shook my head. “I’m freaking out, but I’ll be fine. I just need rest.”

  “What do you think happened to him?”

  I bit my lip. “I honestly have no idea. I just hope they find who did it.”

  “Me, too. Me, too. Well, you need your rest.” She patted the car again, then stepped back. “You’ve got a big night coming up soon. With this stress, you’ll need all the relaxation you can get. You have to knock this producer’s socks off. I need you to become famous so you can introduce me to Toby Keith.”

  “Right, because I’ll instantly become friends with every famous person.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Listen, honey, we’ll follow you.” She closed my car door.

  “I’m fi—”

  She raised her hand. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Fine.”

  I pulled away from the parking lot. The crowd had thinned out, but the news vans still circled the lot like sharks at feeding time. Kitty and Danny followed me onto the busy street. Danny always did tailgate.

  I wasn’t sure who was in the car tailgating him, though.

  Chapter 8

  “Hello,” I whispered into the phone. The clock on my nightstand read seven a.m.

  Who in the hell was calling me this early?

  “Veronica, it’s Frank.”

  “God, Frank, why are you calling at seven in the morning?” I pulled the pillow over my head to block out the sunlight. “Ever since they came out with that damn sunscreen you all are up at the butt crack of dawn.”

  “I need you to come over to The Lipstick Lounge. Monty Bradford is letting us use the club for auditions. I’ve found a couple of guys I think might work.”

  “Frank! Already?”

  “Yes, already.”

  “I don’t know, Frank. It seems wrong to be moving on so quickly after Johnny was murdered in the parking lot, right under our noses. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet.”

  “Look, I told you this only happens once in a lifetime. Johnny would want you to move on. He came here wanting to make it, and he wouldn’t want to stand in the way of someone else reaching that goal. For once put your life in front of others.”

  “Oh, lay off the crap, Frank. You act as if you knew him so well.”

  “I knew him more than you think. While you were out on dates with that loser, we hung out.”

  “I’m going to ignore that. Rick was a nice guy…sort of. He had issues, that’s all.”

  I didn’t want to admit out loud what a rat Rick Reardon truly was. He’d persuaded me with his smooth talk. Frank had been so much easier to deal with when Rick was around. I’d been too busy trying to make the relationship work to pay attention to Frank’s constant stupid remarks. Now I wanted to bop him in the head on an hourly basis.

  “Yeah, whatever, you’re lucky to be rid of him.”

  “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes. Is that good enough for you?”

  “I guess it’ll have to be.”

  After hanging up, I made a dash straight to the shower. The water ran over my face, breaking free the last haze of sleep. I had to force myself to climb out from under the soothing water. Sleep and a shower didn’t help me comprehend what had happened last night. Not so surprising, I guessed. Violence happened in the world all the time, but I thought of vampires as invincible, or at the very least, immortal.

  When I’d returned home only a few hours ago, I’d attempted a spell to rid negativity and one to help me sleep. Obviously, the one for sleep hadn’t worked and probably not the other one, either. The one thing that had came from the spell: words. The words ‘beware of the music man’ flashed through my mind. I had no idea what the words meant, but with my non-skills, they probably meant nothing. Magic had been in my family as far back as I could trace my family tree. At the age of five, my parents introduced me to my witch skills, or, unbeknownst to them at the time, my lack of witch skills. Now, every time I performed magic something so embarrassing happened, I hated to discuss it.

  During my first attempt at magic, I’d wished for a tube of lipstick. Yes, lipstick. I don’t know why I wanted lipstick so badly. To my five-year-old mind, a tube of lipstick was the most important thing in the world. So a shiny tube of red lipstick appeared in my hands, and to this day, a tube pops up every time I cast a spell. Now I’m known in witchy circles as ‘the lipstick witch.’ Yeah, that’s embarrassing. However, I never have a shortage of colors for my lips. Sure, the lipsticks were a great perk, kind of like getting a free tube with purchase at the makeup counter. But to be honest, I’d much prefer the spells to work.

  No matter how much I practiced, I hadn’t inherited the family talent. Why I continued to try, I had no idea. Spells, potions, I attempted it all. Grandma Annie said witchcraft was my birthright. She’d given me an old leather-bound book of magic spells. The cover was dirty as if her dog had buried it in the backyard and she forgot to wipe it off before giving it to me. She promised if I practiced the spells within the pages, I’d be a top-notch witch. So far, that hadn’t come to fruition. In fact, I was more of a magical menace than ever. She also reminded me that magic wasn’t a cure all. I knew that all too well. All the magic in the world hadn’t saved my brother.

  Another bad dream had seeped into my sleep—I’d been at an old abandoned farmhouse, lost and running away from the dark shadow. Maybe it was because of discovering Johnny, but that didn’t explain the nightmares over the past month. Mostly the dreams were of being chased and not being able to escape when captured. The strange car following Danny after we left the bar didn’t help stifle the creepiness factor, either. It had followed us for some time until Danny ran a red light.

  Another scorching day lay ahead, so I slipped on one of my favorite leopard print halters and a red pencil skirt, then pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I clipped a flower onto the side. The phone rang again as I grabbed a breakfast bar and headed for the door.

  I gripped the receiver on my vintage style phone. “I’m on my way.”

  “Ms. Mason?”

  “Yes?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Detective Walker. I just have a few more questions for you. Can we meet?”

  Ah, yes, the voice of a drill sergeant—a bloodsucking drill sergeant. How could I forget?

  “I’m on my way to audition a new bass player.” After the words left my lips, I regretted them. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “Wow, you sure don’t waste any time.” His tone changed.

  I paused to choose the right words. “It’s not exactly something I want to do. Johnny was really good. One of the best. He’ll be hard to replace.”

  “But the show goes on, right?” I heard the smirk in his voice.

  “Can’t you ask the questions over the phone?” I pulled my purse back onto my shoulder and leaned against the small table by the door.

  “I’d rather do it in person, if you don’t mind?”

  Did I have any other options?

  “I just don’t have the time. My schedule is full all day.”

  “I’d hate to have to escort you to the station. A witch hanging around an all vampire bar seems unlikely, if you ask me.”

  So that’s how he was going to play it. “You can�
�t do that.”

  “Want to try me?”

  Actually, I didn’t want to try him. “Can you come by the club this morning? Lipstick Lounge, you know it?”

  “Another vampire bar, huh? I’m aware of where it is. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Great, can’t wait.” I plopped the phone down and headed for the door before it rang again. I couldn’t help where paying gigs were. I played at human clubs, too, although I’d never discovered a dead body at one, but still….

  It was a short distance to town, and I lost myself with the sound of Elvis Presley singing Good Luck Charm. It looked as if I would need a good luck charm in light of recent events. Heck, I had a spell book for good luck charms, and every other kind of charm you could imagine, collecting dust on my bookshelf at home. If only it were that easy for me. But I digress.

  A few minutes later, I walked through the front door of the club. Craig stood on stage with drumsticks in hand and a blank look on his face. His usually pale face was even whiter.

  “Where’s Frank? Let’s get this show on the road,” I said.

  He was probably off sharpening his fangs. Pointy teeth were his preferred method of intimidation. Maybe Frank would like a taste of his own pushy medicine. He’d always rushed people. Everything was timed. He couldn’t stand the ass-whooping he needed.

  “Here I am, Doll.” Frank emerged from the back room. He seemed chipper—too cheerful. I felt as if a dark cloud hovered on top of us, yet Frank was business as usual.

  “Let’s play some bock-n-boll.”

  “You’re drunk. It’s morning and you’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m not drunk.” Frank hiccupped. If there was any question whether or not he was drunk, he just answered it.

  “No more drinking today, okay? Sober up.”

  “I’m sober. I can play the gibtar.”

  “Great. It’s great to know you can play the gibtar. But can you play a guitar?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m good to go.” He waved off my question.

  “Frank, I’m not sure I want to know where you dug these guys up at the last minute.” No pun intended. “Do they even play the bass?” I set my bag on the table and eased into a seat.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled, exposing his fangs. They were bright and sharp and sent a chill down my spine. I’d never get used to seeing fangs, and Frank always had a way of making me uncomfortable. He pulled his guitar from its case and busied his hands tinkering with the strings.

  “And furthermore, I have no idea how you got them here so early. Do they have other jobs? I know nothing about them.”

  Still no answer. He looked down as if he didn’t hear a word I said.

  “Frank!” I pounded the table. “Listen to me.”

  He looked up, another sly smile sliding across his face.

  “What did you do?” I asked. Never trust a vampire with a smile like that.

  Chapter 9

  “I may have told them you’re signing a record deal and you’re the next big thing. They want a part of that.” He laughed.

  “What! So you want someone who is that immoral?” Wait. Frank wasn’t exactly known for his morals. “And I haven’t signed, nor do I even know if I will.”

  Craig coughed from behind me. I spun around and noticed the first of the proposed bass players walking toward us. I gave Frank one last evil glare, then turned to watch the other one emerge from the front door. Both men wore jeans and t-shirts with more wrinkles than my grandfather’s face who’d smoked a pack a day for fifty years. Did they coordinate their outfits? We weren’t a grunge band. My day kept getting better. A smarmy detective, a drunken pain-in-the-ass vampire, and badly-dressed musicians. What was next?

  I sat for what seemed like forever waiting for the torture to be over. The second bass player was finishing his rendition of a cat dying. Neither one had been good, but one was better than nothing, I guessed. I'd have to discuss the situation with Frank and Craig and see if they felt the same way. Then again, Frank would hire almost anyone.

  When the door opened, we looked up. Daylight splashed across the front of the bar. Apparently the vampires were still a little jumpy and not used to the whole being-able-to-go-out-in-sunlight thing. The stocky detective from last night walked toward me. His face was expressionless. He stared straight ahead. A trip to Disney World would do him some good. He had that tough cop look down pat. All I wanted was to get this over with and be finished with the questions for good.

  “Can we speak in private?” he asked and motioned across the room.

  Every time I talked about last night the vision of poor Johnny's body flashed through my head. It was something I'd never forget. Nightmares would haunt me for years to come, no doubt. But at least the vision with the killer had stopped.

  “Hi, Detective Walker. You weren’t kidding about needing to talk to me, huh?” I didn’t expect him to show up so soon after I arrived.

  “I don’t kid. This is serious, someone was murdered.”

  Well, yeah, duh, I’d discovered the body.

  “Can I speak with you privately first?” he requested again. “Then I’ll talk to the other band members.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. How about we sit at the table over there in the corner?” I pointed.

  He nodded. “That’s fine. After you.” He gestured for me to go first.

  I made my way over to the table and pulled out a chair. “I’m not sure what else I can tell you past what I said last night, Detective Walker.”

  “I just want to make sure we didn’t miss any details.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from me, retrieving a notepad from his pocket, then clicking his pen.

  “Sometimes we overlook little things in the heat of the moment. Or you may remember something later, after your mind has had time to process everything.”

  I believed him, but there really was nothing. I couldn’t tell him about my vision. He wouldn’t believe me. Besides, I didn’t know if I believed myself. What did the visions mean, anyway? Maybe I had an overactive imagination.

  “So you’re already looking for a replacement, huh?” He pointed to the men on stage.

  I didn’t know what to say. It was as if he’d smacked me in the face with his words. I frowned. But the longer I went without saying something the worse it looked. I needed to talk now. All I could think of at that moment was to ask whether they made blood glazed doughnuts. What a stupid question. Of course they did. They made blood everything. Damn Frank for making doughnut jokes in front of the cop yesterday.

  “Um,” I stuttered.

  Okay something other than stuttering. Speak. Speak now.

  “I didn’t want to,” I blurted out. Great. I was so smooth.

  He’d have me confessing to a crime I didn’t commit if I wasn’t careful. Heck, he’d have my written confession to some random robbery, kidnapping and who knew what else. There had been a lot of break-ins recently. I could see the headline now: The lipstick witch behind bars! Finally captured!

  “You didn’t want to what?” His frown grew.

  “I didn’t want to get a replacement so soon. I thought we should give it until at least after Johnny’s memorial. But Frank insisted because I have a record producer coming to my show on Saturday night, that’s not exactly something you can cancel. I mean you can, but I’ve worked for a break like that for a long time. Most of my life as a matter of fact.” I took a deep breath. Okay, I was rambling. But I tended to do that when I got nervous, and I was definitely nervous.

  “So Frank just happened to know someone to take the bass player’s place at a moment’s notice?”

  “Right. That’s correct.” I fidgeted in the chair. “He said he knew these guys and made some calls around looking for a replacement. They’re not great players, neither of them, but like I said, I kind of need to do this, you know. Frank says Johnny would want me to move forward and he’s right. Johnny would be pissed at me if I missed out on this chance. He really was a nice guy.”

  “S
o do you always listen to everything Frank tells you to do?”

  “What? No way. But he was just talking some sense into me, you know.”

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to kill Johnny?”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t think of anyone.”

  “Think hard. Did he have enemies?”

  Every vampire I knew had enemies. I shook my head again.

  “Fight with anybody? Maybe get into an argument with someone in the crowd?”

  I paused. Then it clicked into my memory. “Now that you mention it, there was this guy about a month ago. He wanted us to let him play the bass just for one song. He wanted to impress his girlfriend. We told him we couldn’t do that. We’d practiced too long to let just anyone play. He wouldn’t stop, just kept asking and asking. Finally, Johnny told him to take a hike. He told him to start his own band if he wanted to impress his girl. Of course, the guy didn’t like that none. They exchanged a few words, but he finally left.”

  “Was that it?”

  “Well, no, he was waiting outside for us when the show was over. He wanted to fight, but the bouncers stopped him. They made him leave. Johnny didn’t call the police, though. I was glad they didn’t fight. He wasn’t a vampire and I was really afraid of what might happen to the guy.”

  “Not all vampires are as violent as you think, Ms. Mason.”

  “It’s been my experience that all vampires are extremely dangerous when placed in certain situations,” I said.

  “I think that goes for anyone, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “So was that it?” he asked.

  “That was it, never saw the guy again.” I looked at my red-polished fingernails.

  “Were there any other altercations?”

  “I can’t think of anything.”

  “What kind of practice schedule do you all normally have?”

  He looked up from his notepad. His dark brown eyes blended in with his dark lashes. The room was dim in our corner of the bar, although, the sun shone brightly outside. A few dark tinted windows dotted the front wall. I guess the owner didn’t want anyone to see how sparse the crowd was in there on some nights. The inside of the bar was covered with red velvet and intricate black ironwork—very gothic.