Without You

For a minute, Jackson didn’t speak, thinking how lucky he was to have Terrance. His body was toned but solid, bearing testimony to his long hours in a gym. His groomed mustache and beard surprisingly didn’t detract from or hide his charming smile. When it came to fraternizing with the customers, he was a smooth operator.

Although Jackson paid him out the kazoo, money didn’t necessarily buy loyalty. And loyalty was Terrance’s trademark. When he left Terrance in charge, Jackson never worried about the day-to-day operations.

“I didn’t quite cover everything,” Jackson finally said.

“Anything I can handle?”

“Yeah, finding us a new band ASAP.”

Terrance’s dark eyebrows rose in a question. “Aw, hell, don’t tell me The Jammers quit?”

“They did. Apparently they had a squabble that couldn’t be resolved.”

“Damn, what a crock. They were the best we’ve had in a long time.”

“I agree, but we have no choice but to move onward and hopefully upward.”

“I’ll get on it pronto.”

“When you’ve narrowed the choice to two, let me know.”

“Will do.” Terrance rose and walked out the door, only to return a minute later, his features scrunched in a frown.

Jackson was already back at his desk, going through the ledger. Looking up, he asked, “What?”

Terrance cleared the threshold, then eased the door shut behind him. “You have a visitor.”

“Who?”

“A Detective Gomez.”

A matching frown marred Jackson’s features. “What does he want?”

“Wouldn’t tell me. Said he needed to see you.”

Jackson shrugged. “Then, send him in.”

“Want me to hang around?”

“Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. You just tend to the band business.”

Moments later, the detective strode through the door. Coming around his desk, Jackson met him in the middle of the room and they exchanged handshakes.

Jackson sized Gomez up quickly: young, good-looking and cocky. Though he couldn’t say why, the hairs stood up on his neck. Perhaps it was the way Gomez was eyeing him, like he was fresh meat about to be devoured.

Jackson smiled politely and asked in a cool tone, “What can I do for you, Detective?”

“Answer a few questions.” He paused. “If you don’t mind.”

“I’ll let you know after you’ve asked them.”

From the expression on Gomez’s face, the answer didn’t sit well with him, though he said, “Fair enough” in an even tone.

“Care to have a seat?”

Gomez shook his head. “I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

For a moment, silence prevailed in the room as though each man was sizing the other up. Jackson had already done as much and decided Gomez didn’t like him. That in itself didn’t mean anything, except that it made this visit more awkward.

“I understand Roberta Klein is a friend of yours.”

Jackson hadn’t the foggiest idea what this interview was all about, but in his wildest imagination, he wouldn’t have connected it to Roberta. “You’re right,” he said with caution. “Has been for years. Why do you ask?”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“What’s this all about, Detective?”

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Cole, I prefer to ask the questions.”

Jackson was a master at hiding his emotions. If Gomez thought he was going to rile him with his brash tactics, he couldn’t be more wrong. “Fine. Fire away.”

“So, again, when was the last time you saw Ms. Klein?”

“Last evening, though I suspect you already know that.”

“It appears you were the last person to see Ms. Klein alive.”

Shock rocked Jackson. “Are you saying she’s dead?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A weakness invaded Jackson’s system, making it impossible for him to remain standing. He sat down and stared at the detective. Impossible. Roberta couldn’t be dead. A million questions blazed to mind, but he kept his mouth shut. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say. And this was Gomez’s show—he’d made it clear he intended to run it.

“Care to comment, Mr. Cole?”

“When I left her, she was alive and well,” Jackson responded in a dazed voice.

“That so?”

Jackson suddenly wanted to knock the condescending smirk off his face. Instead, he managed to keep his cool even under the unexpected assault. “How did she die?”

“She was found slumped over the table, apparently strangled to death.”

Jackson felt sick to his stomach. At the same time, blind fury charged through him. If he got his hands on the person who had so cruelly snuffed out Roberta’s life, he’d save the justice system a lot of time and money.

“Know anything about that?” Gomez asked.