Spiral

voice cracked as he nearly screamed his words. ”We got all the fucking time we need to get this shit right!” It was dark and smoky inside the bar, which seemed to reach deep beyond a ramp wide enough for a platoon to march up it three abreast. The performance area lay to the right, a man I at first didn’t recognize standing with his back to me, black hair cascading onto his shoulders in almost lush waves.
    Gordo Lazar was facing me. ”Spi, we got company.” The man with all the hair turned around abruptly. Held himself, wearing a rug that blew past toupee all the way to wig.
    ”The fuck do you want?” he said to me.
    ”Hey,” came an unfamiliar voice out of the darkness. ”If you’re gonna talk with your lawyer or whatever, I’m gonna—” Held wheeled around toward the voice, an index finger swiping viciously under his nose. ”The fuck kind of houseman are you?”
    ”The boss said you guys were supposed to be professionals—”
    ”—sup -posed to be?—”
    ”—from the old days. Well, I run this control board seven nights a week, and this is the longest I’ve ever seen a sound check—”
    ”Go fuck yourself!” from Held.
    ”Okay,” said the voice in back. ”I’ll tell the boss you’re gonna wing it tonight.”
    Footfalls sounded hollow in the nearly empty place. ”Christ, babe,” said Buford Biggs to Held in a mollifying tone.
    Now Held wheeled on him. ”We don’t need a houseman doesn’t stick with his job.”
    Queen came out from behind his drums. ”Like I told you coming in here, I know the dude. Let me talk to him.” I said, ”First I’d like to talk with all of you.”
    Spi Held wheeled on me, now, like the villain in a cartoon. ”This is more important.”
    ”Not to the man paying the freight”
    Held opened and closed his mouth twice, but no words came out. Then he sniffled.
    Ricky Queen said, ”How about if we break for ten, Spi? I go talk to the houseman, you guys talk with the detective Here, and when I come back, he’s still got questions, I’ll handle him myself?” Queen looked over to me, a little grin toying with the comers of his mouth. ”I think I can handle Mr. Detective until he’s... satisfied.”
    Held never turned to look at his drummer. ”Yeah. Yeah, good idea, Rick. We could use a break.”
    ”Amen to that,” said Buford Biggs, lifting his hands from the keyboard in front of him.
    * * *

    We sat at a square table on the fringe of sunlight spilling through the door to the outside world. Spi Held was across from me, Biggs to my right and Lazar to my left.
    Held said, ”Okay, ten minutes.”
    I decided to lead with the bomb. ”Sundy Moran.” Gordo Lazar flinched, then looked over at Buford Biggs, who tried very hard to be casual. Spi Held glanced in a confused way at Lazar first, then Biggs.
    ”What the fuck is a Sunday Moran?” said the leader of the band.
    I watched Lazar before answering. ”Not ‘Sunday,’ but S-U-N-D-Y. A woman’s name.”
    The bass guitarist furrowed his brow. ”Actually, it started out as ‘Sunday.’”
    Held joined me in looking at Lazar, who made a point of not looking at Biggs anymore.
    I said, ”Let’s hear it.”
    Gordo Lazar ran a hand over his shaved head, then stroked a scar on his right cheek. ”It was back when we were touring, man. The original Spiral. We did a gig down here— Miami somewhere, I don’t know, they kind of blended together.” Lazar inhaled and exhaled. ”Anyway, this one chick was standing near the stage, flashing Tommy.”
    ”Flashing?” I said.
    ‘Yeah.” Lazar realized I didn’t get it. ”You remember ‘streaking,’ right?”
    ”Somebody running naked through a crowd.”
    He nodded. ”Or when that guy did it at the Oscars, and the television camera just missed bringing his dick into fifty million living rooms.” Lazar’s eyes went down toward the tabletop. ”Well, flashing was when a braless chick flipped up her shirt, flashing tittie.”
    ”And this woman did that to Tommy O’Dell?”
    ”Her and dozens of others. Man, Tommy had the magic. But this one, she had a set could poke your eyes out, and so he had one of the roadies tap her to come backstage afterwards.”
    Spi Held swiped under his nose again. ”The fuck does this have to do with Very getting killed?”
    ”Be patient,” I said. ”We might be about to hear.”
    Lazar glanced up at me, then back down again. ”Before you know it, Tommy’s planking this chick in the bed on our bus.”
    Held