Terror On Tour Chapter 5

Terror On Tour

Chapter 5

Whoa, who is that? I muttered. He turned to the engineer. Can you make a copy of that message. We need to phone the authorities.

Probably just a prank call, Darius muttered.

I think you should call the police, Van remarked.

I pulled out my cell and dialed 999 the local equivalent of 911. I spoke to the dispatch who directed me to the local police station. Soon I was talking to a DC McLennon who said she would be right over to the radio station.

Corey and Teresa came into the control booth when I hung up my cell. Who were you calling?, Corey asked. A pizza delivery? I’m starving. I didn’t eat much breakfast I was so nervous about this interview. I think we did OK?

You did great, Van said.

I made the recording, the sound engineer remarked.

You made a recording of our interview? Teresa said. Cool.

I did, but that wasn’t what I was talking about. There was a crank phone call made a few minutes ago. I made a recording of that as well.

What? Corey said worriedly. What do you mean?

I just got off the phone with the police, I related. There were some threats made—serious threats that we can’t ignore. Someone called it in just after your interview.

Darius threw up his hands and they slapped against his leg in frustration. More problems with you guys, he muttered.

It’s not our fault, Corey said quietly. You can’t blame this stuff on us.

Corey’s right, I said. This isn’t their fault. Someone is out to mess up their plans for this tour. We need to find out who it is—and soon. They have the concert tomorrow night then on to Paris. This is serious. We have to find out what’s going on.

I know, Darius said. But we have enough to deal with without all these problems. You better get to the bottom of this or the higher ups at the record company are going to get very nervous and who knows what they’ll do when they get nervous. It’s never a good sign in the music business to be nervous.

I nodded. We understand. But you have to give us more time. The authorities are aware of everything that has happened so far and are working at finding out who’s responsible. I turned to the engineer who made the recording. What’s your name?

Mackenzie, he said with a grin. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.

That’s OK, I said. Mackenzie, can you make a copy of the recording for the police?

Already have it, he said, pulling a disc out of the console and waving it in the air. This is the phone call that was made. Hopefully they can trace it as well. We don’t like these kinds of calls, obviously. It looks bad for the station as well.

Do you get very many crank calls? I asked and Mackenzie shook his head. Not really, but every once in a while we do. More often with the big name artists. A lot of them are just nut cases and aren’t serious.

Did this guy sound familiar? Corey wondered. Maybe he’s done this before with other artists. But Mackenzie shook his head again. Sorry mate, he said. I don’t really remember voices but this one I’ve never heard before.

Don’t worry, guys, I said. We’ll find out who’s doing this. You just concentrate on the concert tomorrow night and the one in Paris on Sunday. Frankly I was worried about Corey. All these disruptions weren’t good for him or his emotional state. I looked over at him and he exchanged glances. He still seemed OK, but that could change quickly.

DC McLennon arrived a few minutes later. She was an older woman with her blond hair in a bun on top of her head. She was large framed and tall with steely grey eyes and a no nonsense attitude. She spoke with Mackenzie and the others at the station while Corey, Renny and Teresa followed Van and me out to the corridor where we met with Darius. He led us to a conference room down the hall. DC McLennon met us there 10 minutes later.

We take death threats very seriously, she remarked, holding up a copy of a CD that Mackenzie had given her with a recording of the threat. She put the CD away and pulled a notepad from her pocket. I spoke with  a DC Mendon over in No. 4 District and he’s filled me in on what happened at your hotel. We are working on who poisoned Mr. Price, she added. We will find who made this call as well. We’ll get to the bottom of this. She turned to Teresa and Corey. We’re sorry your stay here in London has not been without incident. Believe it or not, I like your style of music. I heard your song on the radio and it’s good, she added with a grin. I wish you guys luck on your tour.

Corey thanked her then gave her four tickets for the concert. She left soon after.

OK, so your interview went well, Darius remarked. Your song will now be added to the playlist here at the station, and we wait for it to create some buzz. I would advise you if you have Twitter accounts—and you should have at least one for the band, to get active on it. Start getting followers. Get your friends to get the word out about the tour. We at TopFlight will start to create a buzz as well, but as you can imagine we have lots of other artists. We don’t have a lot of money or resources to spend on promoting a new band like yourselves, but we want you to succeed obviously. If you succeed then we succeed. But you have to make an effort on your own. That’s how things are done nowadays.

We’ll help you with that, I said, looking at Van, who nodded. We’ll start spreading the word on Facebook as well, I added.

Darius nodded. Yes, that’s the attitude you blokes need to have. You guys will have an awesome career. Now get back to your hotel. Rest for a bit. The concert is tomorrow night. Let the police handle these threats. Concentrate on the music, OK?

Corey and Teresa exchanged glances. We will eat sleep and breathe music, he promised. Darius cracked a grin for the first time since meeting him.

It was after lunch when we got back to the hotel. We cruised the street and found a fast food joint about a block away. Renny had been quiet all morning. He sat at the end of the table and ate in silence.

Everything OK, dude? Van asked him before biting into his humongous bacon cheeseburger. Renny just nodded and continued to eat his own cheeseburger.

We returned to the hotel and it was almost 3 pm. Teresa, Corey and Renny headed to the music room in the basement where their equipment had been set up for them to practice. It was a locked room and needed the concierge of the hotel to open the door for them. Van and I decided to accompany them and watch them practice.

Standing outside the door waiting for the concierge was a young guy who came up to us. This is Charlie, Corey said. Charlie nodded, offering his hand to me and Van which we shook.  

Charlie was of Asian descent with long straight black hair and glasses. He had on long black Bermuda shorts and a bright yellow t-shirt with matching yellow high top sneakers with blue laces.

Nice to meet you, Charlie, I said and Van nodded.

The concierge, Andre came along a moment later. He was a middle aged guy in dark pants and a red jacket. His hair was blond and cut short. He had a trimmed blond beard and looked serious as he walked along the hallway towards us.

Andre put the key in the door and opened it and went in the dark room and switched on the lights. We followed him inside—and gasped. A man was lying on the floor in front of the band equipment. He wasn’t moving.

It was Henry, the desk clerk.

I ran over to him and knelt down beside him. I felt for a pulse and found a weak one. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 999. Meanwhile Andre called his supervisor on his own cellphone and a few minutes later the day manager Minerva Smithson arrived. She was an older woman dressed in a dark skirt and high heels. A white blouse with a bow around her neck and a dark blue blazer with her nametag on it. He hair was curly and short and was a dirty blonde colour.

What’s happened here? She asked looking at Henry.

We found Mr. Wilcox like this, Andre reported. A few minutes ago. The band was coming here to practice. We’ve called an ambulance they should be here soon. I don’t know how he got in here or why he was in here.

Well, when he comes to, we need to ask him, Minerva said with a sour expression. She turned on her heels to leave but turned back. She fixed Corey with a hard expression. You and your band have been nothing but trouble since you arrived here. I don’t mean to be blunt but if this, she remarked, waving her arm at Henry’s prone figure, is somehow related to your band and its troubles, then I will have no option but to expel you from our hotel. We run a respectable establishment. Already news of your guitar players poisoning is circulating the hotel. We can do without the negative publicity. Only out of the goodness of my heart am I allowing you to stay for now. But be warned.

But it’s not our fault, Corey said, looking to me for support.

Corey’s right, Ms. Smithson, I said. We are sorry for the trouble but someone else is causing these problems. We’re working on getting to the bottom of it.

“We’re” working on it? She said with a smirk. You mean the police are working on it, surely. What are you doing?

I’m an amateur detective, my father is a private investigator back in Canada. I learned some tricks from him. I’ve solved a few cases on my own back home.

I heard Andre snicker behind my back. Van heard as well. What’s so funny, dude? He blurted, turning to face the concierge.

Nothing, Andre said, composing himself. Minerva didn’t look very impressed either. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, just let them know that I was helping find the culprits.

Very well, she said finally. Do what you must, but the police will surely find out what happened. Once the ambulance has dealt with young Henry then you may practice. But I can’t say I won’t be glad when your tour moves on. With that she turned on her heels again and glided out of the room. Andre followed her. We were left alone with the unconscious Henry.

See anything odd, I remarked, looking around the room then glancing back at Henry.

He’s in his street clothes, Van replied. Henry was dressed in baggy jeans and t-shirt and sneakers.

He must have been off duty when he came in here, I surmised. Either at the end of his shift or before he started his shift. He must have come in here for some reason. Hopefully when he regains consciousness he will tell us.

And there’s a nasty gash on the back of his head, Teresa said kneeling down beside him. Someone’s hit him with something very hard.

I strolled around the room and soon found a piece of 2x4 behind the drum kit, like it had been tossed there. Look at this, I said kneeling down beside it. There was a dark hair caught in a splinter at the end of the piece. This is evidence I said, pulling out my cell phone and dialing the police once again. Henry had been attacked!

The paramedics arrived soon accompanied by Andre who had gone up to wait for them. I didn’t mention the wood to Andre. Once the paramedics were gone the police arrived soon after, Minerva was with them. I’ve told the officer here DC Altman about your finding Henry in here. I was surprised to see the officer here, though, I didn’t think this was a matter for the police, she said eyeing me with the same sour look as before.

We found something else, I said, leading the officer back to where the piece of wood was. DC Altman took an evidence bag from her pocket and with gloved hands put the wood inside and sealed the bag. We will be questioning Mr. Wilcox once he regains consciousness.

DC Altman questioned us further and made notes and soon left. Minerva just glared at us then left the room.

Friendly staff around here, Teresa muttered.

Suddenly someone burst into the room. It was Darius. Quick, you guys have to get over to the hospital. It’s Dylan. He’s taken a turn for the worse. I don’t think he’s going to make it!