the best who frequented the Bluetone. They didn’t normally play Tuesdays and rarely played together. After unpacking his guitar, Corbin navigated through the crowd to the bar, where Penny sat sipping from a drink with an umbrella and playing with her new silver necklace. Her large soft eyes and enormous smile announced her excitement at seeing Corbin.
“Hey there,” Corbin said, before kissing her.
“Hey back,” she said, stealing a second kiss.
They stared into each others’ eyes for a few seconds, both of them grinning uncontrollably.
“Big crowd tonight,” Corbin finally said to Blue, though his eyes remained locked on Penny.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Blue said. “We been turnin’ people away.”
Corbin finally shifted his gaze from Penny to Blue. “Something special going on?”
“Just this,” Blue answered, sliding a folded newspaper across the bar. “The paper’s been talkin’ about your playin’.”
Corbin skimmed the article. “Hmm.”
“Is that all you got to say?”
“Hmm. . cool.”
Penny laughed. Blue didn’t.
“We got some requests you play that piece from Friday.”
“Really, somebody wants to hear that again?” Corbin asked, as he scanned the crowd.
“Yeah, ’bout sixty people,” Blue said.
“You’re shittin’ me?!”
“Barman’s honor. We also got a dozen more people signed up for a copy of it when you get around to cutting a copy.”
“In that case, I guess I should get started. Don’t want to keep the audience waiting, do I?” Corbin kissed Penny again, sliding one hand across her back as he did. She slid her arms around his waist. When they separated, he left for the stage.
“Why didn’t you tell him, Blue?” Penny asked.
“He don’t need that kind of pressure. Let him enjoy himself.”
Penny looked over her shoulder at the record company representative. He looked like anyone else in the crowd. “Do you think he’ll like Alex?”
“Rex and I go way back. If I know Rex, he’ll like him. That’s why I asked him to come tonight.”
“You know, Alex may never forgive you when he finds out,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh, Rex would’a come soon enough. I just sped up the process.”
Up on stage, Corbin placed his guitar in his lap. He took another sip of beer. “I understand there’s been a request or two that we play the same thing we played last Friday.” Corbin adjusted his guitar strings. “Normally, we wouldn’t do that, but since we’re all friends, I guess we can make an exception.”
The crowd laughed and then roared with applause.
Blue’s friend Rex left near the end of Corbin’s set. He didn’t say a word to anyone. Penny watched him leave.
“He’s leaving. What does that mean?” she asked Blue.
“That’s a good sign. He usually leaves after five minutes if he hates it, twenty minutes if he likes it but can’t sign it, and after an hour no matter what.” Blue looked at his ancient watch. “He stayed almost two hours tonight.”
“Should we tell Alex?”
“Wait until tomorrow. Rex gonna call me tomorrow if he wants to talk to Alex.”
Twenty minutes later, Corbin left the stage. The crowd continued to applaud as he made his way to the bar. When he reached the bar, Penny launched herself from the barstool into him and hugged him tightly. She placed her head against his chest and didn’t let go for some time.
“Brilliant, babe!”
Corbin smiled.
“Just brilliant,” she added.
“Thanks, I was pretty happy with it.” His tired voice revealed his exhaustion. Despite his exhaustion, Penny recognized a deep calm about him, which he always got when he played at Blue’s bar. She also saw the now- familiar soft sparkle in his eyes.
Penny looked at her watch. “All right, Mr. Happy, I need to go home.”
“You’re not coming over?”
“Nope.” She pushed him away. “I told you, my other sister’s in town. I’ll call you on the weekend.” She started to leave but then turned back, grabbed the surprised Corbin by the shirt, pulled him toward her, and kissed him. Then she winked at Blue and left.
Blue laughed. “She’s a keeper.”
Corbin smiled.
Corbin saw the flashing light the moment he entered his apartment. He set down his guitar and walked over to the table where the cell phone lay. He picked up the phone. Beckett had called. Moreover, Beckett left Corbin a message, despite being told never to do that. Corbin pressed recall and placed the phone to his ear.
“We have a problem.”
Part Three
Chapter 23
Rookie Philadelphia police officer Paul Webb kicked in the door. Five officers rushed into the room with their weapons drawn. Their target, Washington Davis Beaumont, lay face down on a mattress. A pistol rested on the nightstand near his head. Beaumont made no effort to reach for it.
Sgt. Warner Russell, a fifteen year veteran, rammed his knee into Beaumont’s back, pinning him to the bed. “Don’t move motherfucker or I’ll blow your brains out!” yelled Russell in his heavy Philadelphia accent. He jammed his weapon into Beaumont’s temple.
“You gonna show me a warrant?!” Beaumont demanded.
“Shut the fuck up!” In one fluid motion, Russell holstered his weapon, pulled his handcuffs from his belt, locked Beaumont’s hands behind his back, picked Beaumont off the bed, and wiped the sweat from his brow onto the sleeve of his dark-blue uniform jacket. Russell pushed him toward two other officers. “You’se two take Beaumont to the cruiser. Rook,” Russell addressed Officer Webb, “search the other rooms. I’ll search this one.”
“Hey, you can’t search my place, you ain’t got no subpeonis, offica’,” Beaumont said mockingly.
Russell’s eyes narrowed, accentuating the crookedness of his face. His right eye sat slightly lower than the left and his nose and chin were too far to the right, the aftereffects of several fights. He grabbed Beaumont by the back of the neck and shoved him against the wall. “Wha’d I tell you,” he growled, before stepping back and motioning the two officers to take Beaumont out of the apartment.
When they were gone, Russell closed the front door to keep anyone in the hallway from seeing what was going on inside. With the door closed, Russell walked over to the nightstand, opened its top drawer, pulled a large manila envelope from his jacket and emptied its contents into the drawer. As he did, Webb returned from searching the filthy kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, Russell saw Webb watching him. Russell closed the drawer.
“Hey Rook, why don’t you check the nightstand,” Russell said, trying but failing to sound nonchalant. “Beaumont was tryin’ real hard to keep us from looking in there. Might be something important.”
Webb walked over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. Inside were documents, credit cards and checkbooks.
“Whoa, hey! You found his stash! You’ll probably get a commendation for this.”
“I don’t understand? What’s going on, Russ?” Webb asked. The meekness of his tone betrayed his lack of confidence when it came to challenging the forceful personality that was Warner Russell.
