“Why?”
“I know my last name now.” For an instant, I didn’t have anything to say in response. The statement was so simple, but he said it with such…happiness. Who would have thought that one little word could make his face glow like that? I masked my surprise by scribbling down what I had heard on the notepad and closing the phone.
“Well, we’ve got a name, a number, and a reference. Maybe today isn’t a total loss.”
He made a scornful noise. “Please, what would you be doing if you weren’t out solving my death?”
“Lying in bed with a cup of coffee and a good book,” I replied with a wistful sigh. He muttered something about being a drama queen under his breath while I stood and stuffed my phone in my pocket.
“Where to next, fearless leader?”
“Home. We’ve done a lot today and your mind needs to reset itself. Come on.” We passed back the way we came but I kept an eye out for any unusual dark-haired men. Y’know, other than the one walking right next to me. Maybe I was just being paranoid again but ever since he mentioned the man, I had felt like someone was watching us. I hoped for once it was just my imagination. If only I could be so lucky.
Chapter 4
“So you don’t have enough money to buy a caramel apple, but you can afford a laptop?”
I leaned over the side of the kitchen table, plugging the landline for the Internet into my laptop. Couldn’t afford wireless yet but I was working on it. “It’s called saving up. Considering the nature of my work, I knew I’d be needing one unless I wanted to schlep to the library every time I want to search for something.”
I plopped down in my chair and opened the Internet browser, taking me straight to Google. Michael propped his elbow on the back of my chair, leaning in to see. I typed in “Michael O’Brien Albany NY 518 555-8762” and hit Enter. The page exploded full of entries. I read through the headlines that included pictures and none of them were the dead man standing to my left. However, one of them caught my eye because it had to do with the club Chloe had mentioned, Devil’s Paradise.
Underground Band ‘Throwaway Angels’ Smash Hit in Devil’s Paradise
“Gee, is there enough symbolism here for you?” I muttered. Michael snorted with laughter. I opened the article and began to scan through it, particularly the first couple paragraphs.
August 5th, 2010—Local talent Throwaway Angels hits it big at club Devil’s Paradise in Albany, NY. Tonight was the first performance to sell out tickets more than a week in advance for such a small establishment and the response through email, phone calls, and Tweets suggests that fans are begging for more.
The band, consisting of five members, is of the garage rock variety: showcasing strong vocals by the femme fatale Casey Beck and the hunky Michael O’Brien, dual guitarists Kate Levitz and Stanley Cooper, and drummer Martin Cunningham. Michael O’Brien founded the group over a year ago and had been strategically planning performances ever since until they were able to secure a gig. He has not released a statement as to whether or not they will do a follow up to their explosive concert.
“Well, this explains my Guitar Center visits,” Michael said.
The rest of the article went on to describe which songs they played, which wasn’t terribly useful, so I copied and pasted the article in a Word document for safekeeping. “If we’re lucky, we can figure out an address from this information. If you really did that well at the club, someone will try to find you in order to get a statement or invite you guys back.”
I paused, frowning. Michael tilted his head at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I was going to say we need to contact your band mates, but…they probably don’t know you’re dead.”
He shrugged. “For all we know, one of them did it. Think about it: with such a successful debut, what if one of these guys wanted to gank me to become the new leader of the band?”
I shook my head. “That’d be a damn stupid thing to die over. Playing at a football stadium during the Superbowl is worth killing for but Devil’s Paradise in Albany? Not so much.”
Michael raked his bangs away from his face with a sigh, his expression somewhat melancholy. “It’s just a theory. Couldn’t hurt to write the story in case it turns out to be true.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “Who are you? Richard Castle?”
He flashed me a roguish grin. “Only if you’ll be my Beckett.”
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”