Murder At The Folk Festival!!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 08:09 PM

Condolezza Schwartz' act had started about forty-five minutes behind schedule what with one thing and another. We could hear her back-yard-in-Yonkers-cowgirl tones throbbinbg lamely through the evening air, and the dull sliding-steel-and-chalkboard rasp of her Country Band In a Box back up group whining piteously while it tried to catch up. They were doing the support vocals and I could even make out the moo--moomoo --mamoo moo incantation, and I was glad we weren't any closer.

The dull roar of the hawkers and festival goers was punctuated by the occasional punch-through of little clumps of selected important phonemes from the band.

"...lunches.....da dee da dee da..bunches.....mufl wuffl wah wah..."

I was wondering if the scorched blister dawg was maybe reorganizing itself in my lower intenstine, when I felt Lucky grab my arm. Two women had walked up to the leather-jacketed punk and his Rottweiler buddies and started talking to the one with the Cosmo logo on his back. One of them was a short preoccupied woman with dark hair.

As the closing bars of the Farm Person love song faded behind the buzz of the midway, I stared hard at what I thought I was seeing. I shook my head hard. Nothing changed.

The other woman in the conversation was Condolezza Schwartz.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 08:49 PM

What a shock it was to my system, I'll tell you that much. Seeing as it was Thursday night, and Condolezza wasn't scheduled for playing until Saturday night...So the Farm Person Bluegrass Wah-Wah from her band doing a sound check had barely filtered through my brain when we saw them standing with Cosmo along the midway.

Lucky saw me staring, and turned around as well, "What is it Blake?" she asked. I pointed to the collection of folk oddities before us, and Lucky's voice dropped to a whisper, "That's her, isn't it?"

It was nearing midnight, and the midway was starting to darken as one by one the strings of lights were extinguished. I could tell Lucky was agitated. She had fallen in the big black hole of detective work, and she had fallen hard.
"But they...I mean, they were supposed to...and she's not...?"
I took her by the arm and joined the crowds heading for the exits. "First mistake," I told her, "is thinking it is ever going to be that easy."

We caught a cab and drove to Lucky's. As the driver pulled to the curb and stopped, so did she. She had one hand on the door, and one foot in the street, when she turned to me and gave me that same up'n'down look of hers that was somehow, this time, almost pensive. She paused before she said, "Aren't you coming up?"

I paid the driver, and left a huge tip because I sure as shooting wasn't going to wait around for change and risk the chance she would change her mind. When we reached her floor, Lucky gave a gasp and took off running. The door to her apartment was open, and the place had been tossed. I'll spare you the string of obscenities that flew out her apartment door, but after a quick check by myself to see if the tosser was still in residence, I found Lucky on the kitchen floor, scooping up dirt and trying to repot a basil plant that the bastard had knocked off of her windowsill.

"Gawdammit, Madison," she broke. "What a mess..."
"Yeah, but there's nothing we can do about it tonight. C'mon," I reached down and helped her off the floor, "You can stay at my place tonight. We'll get this sorted out in the morning, okay?" But I could tell it was the furthest thing from okay, and the entire walk to my apartment building was spent in a silence only occasionally punctuated by sniffles from Lucky Day.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 09:15 PM

That is one of the perks of being me, that my apartment always looks as if it's been ransacked, so I guess I save myself the grief of it ever happening. When we finally got in, I turned to see the most uncomfortable looking Lucky I'd yet to see. She stood, hands in pockets, lightly rocking heel to toe as she looked around the room. "Time to put her train on another track, Mr Madison." I thought to myself.

"Here, have a seat." I waved towards the couch. "You want something to drink?"
"Yeah, whatever you're having, double it." she said

When I returned, Lucky was curled on the corner of the couch. I handed her the drink and sat at the opposite end. "Okay, fledgling detective, what have we learned today?"
Lucky took a long drink before answering, "What, besides 'Never eat carnival food'? Or better yet..." she paused and sighed at my reproachful gaze.

"Okay," she started, then took another drink, "Things that I, Lucille Day, have learned in the past 24 hours..." she trailed off, tapping her nails on her glass. "First thing, Theet Logos wants Condolezza. For what, unknown. He gives me a note that gets me in a heap of shit with the Arab. Theet had a hunting knife, and now he doesn't. Hunting knife turns up in Ned for some unknown reason, but Ned isn't worried so much about said knife as he is about saying Pepsi and Cosmo..."

Lucky curled a little tighter in her seat and her eyes shone. "And the Arab. What's the deal? He's obviously bent because I dropped in on his little party and wasn't invited....Something to hide? Dunno...Unless what he has to hide only applies to Theet...But he spoke to you? Right?"
I nodded.
"He's got the hots for LaCondalezza, fair enough, but he doesn't know about me. It was the roadie that threw me in with you, so he doesn't even know you and I are together? And seeing as he was the only party not in evidence at the festival tonight, then he's probably the goon that killed my basil plant.."

"And just what about Condolezza then? She's got the Arab goon squad, so what does she need you for, no offense.."
I shrugged, noncommittal, and thoroughly enjoying the path this was taking.
"So she asks for protection, then disappears? Not exactly a wise move for someone afraid for their life, now is it? And what was she doing with Cosmo? If Theet is after her and using Cosmo, then why hasn't Cosmo killed her already?"

Lucky paused, to take a much needed breath, and drain her glass. "Refill?" I asked, and she nodded. When I got back, Lucky was sound asleep with her head resting on the arm of the couch.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 09:39 PM

Murder at the Folk Festival
MURDER at the Folk Festival
MURDER at the FOLK FESTIVAL
MURDER AT THE FOLK FESTIVAL

Condolezza Schwartz is playing! I don't care which freaking night it is. but it is NOW!!!

Note the Shift in narration.

"Blake is right he is not cut out for this business. That where I come in. My name is Dislexic Nomel Madison. You can call me Mad Lemon."
"Let me tell you about Douglas Norton Sanchez. A rightwing reactionary redneck from Reston Rhode Island.(actually Virginnia) His friends call him Norchez. Norchez hates hippies and welfare moms and and durned furreners and just about everything else you can imagine; that's not mom and apple pie and American. He told me once that he won't even drive a Chevy Monte Carlo because its named after some count from France.

Norchez is bloodthirsty. Norchez doesn't need any of those pansy reasons to take a life. Norchez is cold. Atop light tower 2 on the East end of the Grassy Noel Amphitheater. The hemp nativity scene is not all it appears to be. The camel has a very long hump. When it is finished we notice that the hump is a Glock & Taylor tripple barreled sniper rifle, with a rosewood bridge and Flame Maple stock. It's manacing ruby laser painting a bead on the golden visage of Condolezza.

Woke up I was with Chelsea Clinton
I saw Hillery and Bill
It was then I had my fill
So I threeeeeew my Mescaline aaawwaaaaaaayyyyyy!!!!

"Too many rounds on the target range had robbed Norchez of the ability to hear any human voice except for James Earl Jones and Bea Aurther's. Otherwise he would have pulled the trigger then and there. As it was, there among the Marajuana Pointsettias, he had an experience of Grinchian proportions and his heart grew three sizes. Right then and there. He no longer wanted to kill Bambi's mom or turn retired people into Soylent Green."

But then, using his last ounce of militia training, he tried to imagine her as an imperial storm trooper. Her macrame shawl, a space suit, her guitar a blaster rifle like a jawa would use. But no. "She's too purty, she's too purty." he repeated over and over, redundantly, ad infinitum, As I, Dressed as a hemp donkey, took him into custody and had the police take him away.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 09:55 PM

Note

Dislexic Nomel Madison

Is obviously Blake Madison's twin brother. "The Blues Detective"

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 11:19 PM

[Guys, guys -- I don't mind if you rip a couple pages outta my calendar but strive for SOME kinda continuity or sumpn....]

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 11:51 PM

[I was kinda thrown by the Thursday/Saturday thing and I had some attempted murder jokes ready. TODAY. ]

The cell phone telephone rings with the tune "Luck be a Lady Tonight":

"Blake Madison"

"Blake, its me Mad Lemon. Where the hell are you? Norchez just tried to kill your client. What kind of a bodyguard are you" I said sourly.

"But I thought she was playing Saturday", he said bleakly.

"She is! Saturday with her band. Tonight 'unplugged'. and she almost got plugged right between her baby blues. Look buddy! I gotta go to Kansas City, so I had to have some action tonight! But you make sure that you're here on Saturday. You can't rely on ole Dislexic Nomel Madison for ever."

"Thanks Mad Lemon. I owe you one!"

"Yeah little brother, I'll put it on your tab."

[Timeline resolved, take it away Amos.]

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 26 Jul 01 - 11:53 PM

****COMPLETE AND TOTAL BOLLOCKS FOR THEMS THAT CAN'T MANAGE THE PLOT****

Well, see, guys, it's a little known trick called 'reading'....I hear it works wonders *bg*

At the beginning, Blake comes to the K'n'C, asks 'what are you doing SATURDAY night..not tonight, or tomorrow night, leading one to believe it is at the very latest, Thursday night...(Wednesday was an arbitrary choice just becuz it was)

You have one night comprised of Theet, the Arabs, then the next morning of Blake meeting Afteh and Lucky peeling Ned off the floor. This would, once again, following the earlier continuation... be Thursday, at the latest Friday, but definately not Saturday...

And the carnival, that night, Thursday night, headed by "On Sponsor Nights Before the Festival" on one of those posts up there would in fact, still make that Thursday night...

Condolezza is scheduled to play Saturday night, she said so herself, not Thursday, not Friday...Saturday...

How in the hell is a girl supposed to be able to figure out who the murderer is if you guys keep skipping around? hmmmm? Give us a little time to let it stew, why dontcha? hmmm? No sense in making it more difficult than it already is!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:17 AM

[Yes you are correct! Obviously Blake was mistaken! Captivated by Lucy's charms no doubt! (I wonder are they real???)and did not know that she was playing at sponsers night! (Sorry, I needed action!!! Give me credit for not killing anyone off though I was sorely tempted! ****BG****)]

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:20 AM

Geese, I must be tired.. Should read "Lucky's charm" ;)

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:47 AM

"What day is it?" I muttered stupidly, wondering where I had gotten the unshaven feeling and the little corduroy tracks I could feel criss-crossing my cheeks."

"It's Friday, you big dope!" Lucky replied, shaking me from my foetal position on the couch, where an oversized cushion in brown cord had made my face look like a Nazcan roadmap. I remembered having carried her in into my bedroom, and that I tucked her in just as she was, except for her shoes, and staggering to sleep on the sofa, which is about eight inches too short for me.

"I think I realized what I learned yesterday, Mister Master Detective!!", she laughed, handing me a huge mug of black coffee.

"What's that??" I asked muzzily, wishing I could crawl back into my own bed. Don't go there, pal, a small thought whispered.

"There's two pieces we don't know. One of them is that WE don't know something. The other one is there's something Condolezza doesn't know. Don't you see??? She thinks she's in cahoots with the baddest bunch of dudes in town, and there's something totally UNREAL abouther perception of it!!"

"After listening to her sing, I'm not surprised," I answered, swinging my aching legs down to the floor and trying to slurp up some very strong coffee. "Great thinking! All we have to do now is go ask her what she doesn't know, and she'll tell us, and we'll have the whole thing figured out!!"

I ducked as a hairbrush flew across the room in my general direction, and quickly outgrew my preconception about girls not being able to throw. It missed my ear by inches and embedded itself in the thin plasterboard behind the sofa.

"Get up!!! Get dressed!!! Come on!!!!" she demanded. "We're going out."

Looking at the hairbrush sticking out of my wall, I figured I'd best do as I was told. I carried my mug into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and started to shave. I could hear Lucky slamming around cleaning up my kitchen, humming a song about "dreaming the impossible dream..." -- which come to think of it was pretty close, seeing it was my kitchen.

Forty minutes later we were munching some baguettes at a sidewalk table outside an economy model of a French cafe -- across the street from the Aubrey, watching the doormen scurry around changing shifts. The Aubrey, now, there is a hotel for you -- once one of the finest in the fair land, now thick with plaster dust, palimpsest, and decayed opulence that can't pull itself together anymore. The carpets are the same ones that Fontaine trod back when; Crosby, LaRue, Mix.... they were all here once. Now they're threadbare and mildewed. Past glories clinging to the present with a thin, nervous grip -- an appropriate pied-a-terre for a woman of Condolezza Schwartz' stature.

We sat and watched, sat and waited....

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 01:03 AM

The early morning phone call from Lemon-head put me in a sour mood. In Blake Madison's book, the only time a man should see dawn is on his way to bed. I rolled over and put the reciever back on the hook, rubbed my eyes, and prepared to return to dreamland when the light knock came at my bedroom door.

"Madison, are you awake?" Lucky softly called, and for a minute, I thought I was still dreaming. I grunted yeah, and sat up. The door opened a crack and she called again, "Are you decent?"
"Yeah, but I'm naked.." I replied. Lucky gave a squeal and slammed the door. God, I love that joke. Then I heard her laugh in the hallway, "Gawdammit, Blake..." and she opened the door.

She came in wearing my crappy bathrobe and looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, I found it hanging on the bathroom door. Hope you don't mind."
I said I didn't, and that was the truth.
She sat on the edge of the bed and handed me a cup of coffee. "I was going to make breakfast," she said, "but the only things in your fridge were a half jar of mustard and a hula girl dash ornament..."

"Did you sleep okay?" I asked. She rolled her head and made some remark about pretzels, then stared into her coffee cup.
"You didn't let me finish last night..." she joked "I was ready to crack this thing wide open."
"Oh really, super sleuth? Pray, tell me what you have divined?"
"Well, not so much divination, more like speculation." she said "We've got some holes in this that are really bugging me..."
I was again quite curious to see what her addled little brain had concocted, so I grinned and said, "Please, do tell."

"Well, first things first, this Condolezza chick is no good. Why in the world would she hire you if she had all of those arabs protecting her? The roadies mentioned her stealing songs. Did she? And from whom? How in the world does she know Theet? And better yet, how does she know Cosmo? Who is that dark-haired lady she was with, and the kicker for me: Why in the world would she hire you, then not make any contact after all this time? Then, that Arab guy. Are you sure he's on your side? Between him, the roadie, and Condolezza, there is that weird triumvirate that just screams bad news, to me anyway.."
I nodded.

"Then there's that Theet Logos character. How does he know Condolezza? Is he the songwriter she lifted from? Did he lose his knife or did he use it himself? And Cosmo, now, he doesn't look like those roadies, but is heone? And we know he knows Condolezza, but what about him knowing Theet? Another threesome that worries me just a little bit." She sipped her coffee and stared out the window.

"But you know the one that has me baffled, is Ned Loonbucket. First of all, why would anyone want to kill that lost soul? And the thing that bothers me the most, is that he was on his way to the Keg'n'Cork. Why was he coming there? To warn me? And Pepsi and Cosmo...why? If Cosmo was a name, does that mean Pepsi is a person too? Did he see Theet with someone, want to come tell me, and they got him before he could? That would explain the knife. And Cosmo...was Cosmo a helping hand, or the murderer? It is slowly driving me crazy, Madison...Just what did Ned know? Or better yet, think that he knew...after all, he WAS Ned Loonbucket..."

I sat for a moment, wishing I could put her brain in a jar and keep it on my desk for emergencies. She had just shone daylight through every hole in this case. There were too many questions and not enough time to answer them all. We would have to be careful, and very lucky.

"But listen," she said, "I wanted to tell you..I gotta get going..."
I looked at her, tousled in the light of dawn, and asked, "So what's on the books for you today?"
"Are you kidding? First off, try to clean up my apartment...shouldn't take too long, the place is microscopic..then, I dunno.."
"When I get things straightend out a bit, I'll look you up, okay?" I asked.
"Sure thing," she replied. "you know where to find me." She then leaned over and kissed my forehead before she left. I set the mug on the nightstand, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 01:10 AM

(aw, fer cryin' out loud, so much for cut and paste...LOL...sorry Amos!)

Anyways, so they are sitting outside the hotel AND??????

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 01:41 AM

(Aside: isn't this the first time we've had multiple persons posting for one character? That might be the "rub" so to speak; still, am enjoying it immensely.)

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 08:55 AM

(I'm off to the side with you: Well, it's still story-time, but no, the problem is that for a murder mystery, ya gots ta have yer facts straight, m'am. Otherwise the flatfeet are just running for nothing ;)

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 09:49 AM

The shrink told me that, I take my meds, my multiple personalities would go away.

That's the last time I shop at Placebo Joe's Pharmacy!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 10:04 AM

What irks me is that Blake had to sleep in the other room twice on the same night!!!!!Is the guy unlucky or what?
yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 10:26 AM

[Peter, for old time's sake, would you mind showing me how to tie that Gordian thing once more?]

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:03 AM

So after apartment cleaning, and errands run. Here we are munching french pastries, waiting outside the hotel of a client who's life has been threatened. We could just go inside and ASK her what she knows etc. I have a hunch she will tell us if she is really afraid for her life. It is then that I realize that the note on the knife did not mention a specific time or place for the murder. She could be in danger now!

Now I finally realize how profoundly stupid I must be. There is cream in my expresso! I'm allergic to dairy!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:24 AM

*...And I feel incredibly stupid....of COURSE he would have carried her to bed and slept on the couch. So much for trying to think like a guy...(for women, anyone over 5 years old, if they fall asleep, she'll tuck them in right where they are.) Live and learn.*

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:30 AM

Well I didn't mean to kill the whole thing!**BG**

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:50 AM

[Murder At The Folk Festival (the dumb detective) suggested addition to the title.

Dumb detectives are funnier. Please continue everyone and keep in mind that at some point we may want to have a "Murder at the Folk Festival" or not... it's all good!]

I knocked on her hotel room door and........

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:57 AM

***yeah, but detective people don't just go up and talk to people in their plots. They wait to be knocked out by them, physically or otherwise. ANd giving L the bed was the right thing to do because you know darn well if he had tucked her in on the couch, she would have woken him up an hour earlier than she did with a glass of tapwater instead of coffee and said "So, how come you got the bed and I had to sleep on the couch, Macho?!!"(LOL)****

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:07 PM

No, no, no. She was already asleep on the couch. He would have gone and gotten a blanket and tucked her in where she was, so as not to wake her. That takes priority over where she slept. Were you guys born in Albania or something? yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:09 PM

In China Town and Maltese Falcon they did. But Blake Madison is no Jake Gettes or Sam Spade!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:15 PM

***I think you're right today, Peter T. But would you have been right yesterday? Are we talking Sam Spade, or Dirk Gently and his Holistic Detective Agency? Granted, Lucky sees through him and knows he has a sensitive side... And come to think of it, I think Madison's grandfather crossed to Ellis Island from Albania, having smuggled into Greece hidden under a cargo of leeks in the hold of a coastal lugger. The immigration officer just gave him the Madison name because he (the officer) had been born in Madison Wisconsin and couldn't figure out how to spell Nevruzete Gjoni Hatziyan. ***

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:21 PM

Yeah, well Lucky might wanna have a talk with Nurse Sherry Aims before she goes falling head over heels for this well....this well-heeled heel of a dick, Madison. How 'bout it, Sherry? Where's a nurse when ya need one?

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:29 PM

Blake Madison always treated Sherry impeccably. He is not a heel -- he is a knight in rusty armour. She walked out on him, in a classic bar scene somewhere in this morass of story lines. yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:37 PM

"Well, I don't mean to interrupt," I said to the voices in my head, "But this IS cutting things pretty close."

I sat across from the Aubrey and waited for Lucky. She came up to the cafe with that same spring in her step, and sat across the table from me.
"How'd it go?" I asked
"Oh, not too bad, got most of it cleaned up, and because of my being such a weak female and all that, Billy let me have the weekend off on account of Ned..." she replied
"Well, that was nice of him."
"Yeah," grimaced Lucky, "He's a real saint."

The two of us chatted away, each with one eye on the front doors of the Aubrey, until we saw the golden mop of hair that was Condolezza Schwartz. She carried her guitar, and flipping her shawl over her shoulders, started walking towards McCurnin Park. Lucky and I got up, and followed close behind her.

McCurnin Park, on summer mornings like this, was usually filled to capacity with sun- worshipers, exercise freaks, and people on their way to work. Today was no exception. I held Lucky's hand, just for credibility, I told myself, but Condolezza was an easy tail, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to spot macramé in a jungle of spandex.
Condolezza spread her shawl under a tree, sat down, and got out her guitar. Lucky turned to me with an expression on her face akin to the one people have when they are holding the milk container and asking 'does this smell fresh to you?'.
"Quick, Blake...stop her before she kills again!!" Lucky giggled and pushed me towards Condolezza

Well, after a stumbling entrance like that, even Condolezza Schwartz couldn't have missed me. I reminded myself that Lucky needed a few lessons in quiet observation, as well as a few other things that wouldn't do to talk about in a family park, the waved slightly and walked over to Condolezza.
"Good morning Ms Schwartz." I started. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Condolezza gave me the hair flip again, what was that anyway? Then politely asked, "Why Mr. Madison, what are you doing here?
"Just my job, ma'am. Making sure that you stay in one piece, that's what you hired me for, isn't it?" I stood and waited while she tuned her guitar to what I can only imagine was some sort of key. Key of self, just like the album, and I stifled a laugh.

"Well, Mr. Madison, I am in one piece, so apparently you are doing you job." Condolezza sniffed up at me, "Now I came out here to be inspired, so I'll have to ask you, is there anything else?"
"Now that you mention it," I drawled, "There are a few things..."

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 12:49 PM

(One more voice in the head: My apologies to the Private Eye Madison, the Gentleman. BTW, last I saw of Sherry, she was in a speedboat with a couple of characters in Florida.**BG**)

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 01:11 PM

Blake: As I felt the sharp pain in my side I remembered the broken spring from my couch. I just didn't have the heart to let Lucky sleep on that batter old chesterfield. Its not like I was born in Albania or something..

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 02:49 PM

I looked down at her long flowing blonde hair and her lovely if reconstructed face and waited for Condolezza Schwartz to answer the string of questions I had rattled off from the top of my admittedly turbulent thoughts. Her attitude, dismissive and self-centered, suddenly shifted and softened. And tears began to form up in her large green eyes.

"Mr. Madison, you may be doing your job entirely too well," she remarked, fumbling in her guitar case for a patchouli-scented tissue. "And you are asking me things that I cannot answer right now. You deservebetter, but I cannot help you. All I can suggest is that you learn as much as you can about two men."

"Huh? What two men?"

"Enrico Rogers. And Sharpir "Image" Roberts. "

"Well, who are they?"

"I can't tell you anymore, Blake. I'm sorry. They work for the Pepsi Cola corporation. Now, please leave!!"

She turned away and I took the hint. It was clear to me she was pushing the envelope just telling me that much. I knew I had some work to do.

As I crossed the park heading back to the street corner where Lucky had retreated to watch, I saw a battered-looking purple pickup, circa 1964, cruising the street along the north side of the park, and suddenly pulling to a stop at the curb.

The smell of trouble came rushing back into my fancy as I joined up with Lucky. She was out of direct view, pressed back against the building, watching and she pulled me in next to her.

"Look!!! That's Logos' truck!!" she whispered urgently.

I watched, pressed up against her enticing side, as Theet Logos climbed down from the pickup and started toward the spot where Condolezza Scwartz was sitting fiddling tunelessy with her guitar strings.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: JenEllen
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 03:27 PM

I walked away from Condolezza Schwartz, only marginally clearer than I approached her. It was certain she was hiding something. Between the muddled conversation on my part, and the vapid intellectual flagellation she was infamous for, I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong about the entire situation. I said my good-byes and walked back into the park. We saw Logos' pickup truck, and I doubled back to see what he was up to. For a long while, Logos stared at the statue of Jacob McCurnin, one of the cities founding fathers and the inventor of the toaster waffle. He must have known I was there, because he looked towards Condolezza, then started down the park jogging path away from her.

By this time, Lucky had found the park swings and was sitting on one, traveling in a lazy pendulum, her toes tracing ellipses in the sand. You know, there are times when I hate myself for standing and watching and getting lost in the beauty of everyday things, but this wasn't one of those times. I watched the breeze twist the hem of her sundress and blow her ponytail, and the sun glow on her shoulders, and, then out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him.
The poor dolt was trying to watch her, through what I could only imagine were invisible little tweety-birds in a halo around his head, well that, and the working end of a hangover....I kept walking. Lucky had already made eye contact with the greaseball in his leather and SexPistols t-shirt, and he was on a collision course. I walked past them and sat at a bench, playing what I hoped was 'good father out watching the kids at the park' and not 'semi-finalist for McCurnin Park Pedophile of the Year 2001'.

"Hey," he managed, in the patois of the street thug, to greet Lucky.
Still swinging, Lucky looked up, "Hey stranger...how are you?"
Now, at this point, I wasn't sure if it was the hangover talking, or the fact that the kid was a few neurons shy, because I swear to you, he looked at Lucky and said, "Wait...we met.. yesterday at the carnival?? I'm Cosmo??" he even turned around and pointed over his shoulder at the writing on his leather jacket, just in case she needed proof, I guess..

"Yeah, I remember you." grinned Lucky. "What are you doing out here? It's kinda early isn't it?"
"I had to go into the police station this morning." he muttered
"Really?" Lucky perked up "What for?"
"Somebody stabbed my uncle, and I had to go give a statement and identify the body."

Lucky's swing stopped cold. She looked at Cosmo again, and asked in a whisper, "Ned?"
Now it was Cosmo's turn to drop jaw. "Yeah..."
"Aw, man," Lucky started "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I liked your uncle a lot." she unwrapped her arm from the swing chain and stuck out her hand, "Lucky Day, pleased to meet you."
If the kid was going to drop his jaw any further, he was gonna have to dig a hole. He took her hand and said, "Cosmo Loonbucket...same."

Cosmo took the swing next to Lucky, and she basically reiterated what she'd told the cops the day before. He just nodded. Then Lucky, god bless her little ponytailed soul, went right to work.
"You know, it was puzzling me a little bit," she said, "he mentioned 'cosmo' and 'pepsi' before he died. Well, now I know that Cosmo is you, but what is the Pepsi? Do you have any ideas?"
The kid took a deep breath, "When Uncle Ned got into town, I told him about the sponsorship for the festival being with Pepsi, and that their advertising department was looking for new old blood. Advance you Career.. You know, those 'come-back' stars to put in commercials and look hip? Anyway, Ned was a pretty big deal in the sixties, when he could still remember songs, and I thought it would be a nice shot for him...I never thought it would get him killed." the kid darkly stared at the ground.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, before Cosmo stood up. "Listen, I gotta go meet some friends. Are you going to the festival tonight?"
Lucky shrugged her shoulders and said, "Yeah, I guess so.."
"Well, there is a dance on the hardwood in the big tent after that Logos banjo workshop. If you make it, save me a dance?"
With that information on Theet's whereabouts dropped neatly in her lap, who was Lucky to refuse? She grinned up at Cosmo, "Yeah, we'll see..."

As the kid walked away across the park towards Condolezza, I came over and took the swing next to Lucky. "Well, that clears a few things up," I said, "but I still have one question.."
Lucky looked at me, "What's that?"
"Just what on earth is a SexPistol? I mean, by themselves, each of those things are just fine, but as a pair, I'd imagine them unstoppable..."
"Jeeziz, Madison" she laughed and stood up. "C'mon, lets walk, and you can tell me all about your visit with the blonde bombshell herself..."

We walked down the park path, both noticing Cosmo Loonbucket and Condolezza Schwartz deep in conversation, and the approaching Theet Logos.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 03:36 PM

"Yes?", she said.
"What are your views on non-violence, Condolezza?"
"But of course, non-violence is everything! It is the air we breathe, that comes as a gift from these flowers, it is how we relate, one to one, and even sometimes in larger groups, and I wrote a powerful song about it that --"
"Not just now, Condolezza." I interrupted. "The truth is that in the last 24 hours, just scratching the not very interesting surface of this folkie crowd you hang out with, one person is dead, I have been knocked out, followed, tied up, had a nice physical chat with your Arab pal, and there is a wandering knife with Theets Logos' logos on it, if not his fingerprints."
"Theets?!!! Oh, no. He had such a beautiful soul, once. Is he here among us?"
I was beginning to get the knack of having a conversation with Condolezza. It was like ice skating on skates from which all the laces had been removed.
"And then there is Cosmo, who is a refugee from Altamont, and, to paraphrase Dame Edith Evans, we all know what that unfortunate movement led to."
She huffed: "I don't know what you are talking about. He was never near Altamont. He has a Masters from Columbia. He is a genius."
"Not to attack the hallowed halls of Columbia, but their standards seem to have degenerated. This guy has a doctorate in bumpatting, and got less than 390 on the W.N.S.S. exams."
"W.N.S.S.?"
"Writing your name on the sand with a stick."
"I can't say that he is promoting my career as strongly as I would hope, but his name has certainly appeared on my checks recently. And on my new CD!!" And she handed it to me, and pointed to a name:
Cosmo Tepperman, Executive Producer and Chair, Sadista Records.
"And" she said, "Here he is now."
A chubby short man in an impeccably tailored Savile Row suit, his remnant hair sprawled over his bald head like the bottom of your spaghetti strainer when you forget to put the salt in the boiling water, and smoking a large fat cigar, was picking his way over the daisies towards us. All I could think of was not that we had been up the down staircase, but that Condolezza seemed to have a Snow White complex, since here was the second dwarf of my acquaintance.
"Lezza, Baby, how are ya? Saving the pipes? What are you doing out here, you aren't singing to this guy for free, are you -- hey, just a joke!" He bore an astonishing resemblance to Big Ears the Elf, except for the lack of beard. He kissed Condolezza on both cheeks, and sat down, rolling side to side for a second, and then settled in.
"Cosmo, this is Blake Madison, who has been saying strange things about you."
I apologised as best I could, without saying anything much.
"Hey no problem, Blakey baby. We both have Lezza's best interests at heart. You really think this threat is real, not just the usual kooks?"
I decided to prod the elf, which never works out well in fairy tales.
"I'll tell you what I think, Mr. Tepperman. I think that what is happening is that there is a quid-pro-quo agreement to which someone in your organization is a party, which is using your company to shuffle oil out of Iraq illegally, and import CDs into the Ukraine, which will pirate them out to Kazakhstan, which will trade them for peaches to Iran, and then the peaches will be traded for Malaysian computer chips, which will show up in your cellphone next year." I am sure some of it was wrong, but I was flying a gaudy kite.
I give him immense credit. He sat there and looked at me as if I were nuts, and then he broke out laughing.
"What are you laughing about, Cosmo, what is he talking about? Oil?" Condolezza asked, an even more bewildered look than normal crossing her face, and looking both ways for traffic.
"I think you should fire this guy, Lezza, he is kookier than the guys trying to kill you."
I stood up. "Well, that's my current theory. Fire me or not, there is a dead man unaccounted for. But you might want to check this out before you do. This was found on the dead man." And I flashed them the matchbox cover. "See you around." I turned to walk away, and turned back. "Oh, and one more thing. I see that Sadista Records is owned by Sherman Oil, and you just went public three days ago. How much did you make on that?"
Cosmo smiled. "You mean me, personally?"
"Oh, why not."
"$12 million. They're playing our song in Washington, or haven't you heard."
I had heard. I walked away towards the Keg, idly wondering if my long awaited tax rebate had showed up in the mail yet, so I could buy that farm I had always wanted.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 03:41 PM

[Sorry, we are now definitely into alternative universes by accident! More than one universe now contains Condolezza Schwartz (no!!), and for the sake of generations yet unborn in many cosmosses I will abandon my version of things, and pick up where others have boldly gone.]

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: MMario
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 03:48 PM

*

Condollezza exists in multiple universes? I am now *officially* frightened

*

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: GUEST,RobDale
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 03:53 PM

"Billions and Billions" Said the author of Cosmos on Discovery Channel as I realized that the Note on the match book was space-related and I contemplated going to talk to C.S. for a third unproductive time....

Just kidding....

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 05:03 PM

As Lucky and I walked home, I mean back to my place, I told her about the bizarre coincidence that I had discovered. The matchbook kid having the same name as the Sadista Records executive, I mean. I told her how I had prodded the millionaire troll with the noodles-cold hairdo. Logos had veered off when he saw the two Cosmii hanging around the targe of his intention. I only hoped he would stay clear of her until the performance was over. After all, I had a client to defend, and his Smith and Wesson bumpersticker and missing hunting knife didn't add up to a "Confirmed friendly" IFF in my book. When we got upstairs, I broke out the Titanium G4 and started scrubbing the Internet for ideas about the two names the Condo-person had left me with. The usual PR garbage from giant corporations, a PDF file about their avowed environmental friendliness and Gaian partnership . I was interested to learn on their "Officers of PepsiCo" page that the CEO was a slick suit using the handle Enrico Rogers. And Sharpir "Image" Roberts was their corporate head of Public Relations. Small bells started going off in the back of my mind.

I broadened the search a little and came up with something even more interesting.

Pepsi's big suits had decided chips and sodas wasn't big enough for them. They had acquired an oil consortium--which incidentally happened to include little Sherman Oil--and brought all the parts together in a holding company called Cosmo Oil, Vaseline and Petreoleum International Development corporation, known as COVAPID.

I learned something else from a newsgroup I found peopled by embittered exPepsico employees.

The operations office in the PR department spent their days pulling off capers to forward the interests of Pepsi in the public "mindshare" -- wow -- and their chief operating officer was named Anita Lyphee. A small dark haired woman. The one I had seen talking to the thugs with Cosmo Loonbucket and Condolezza Schwartz the other night.

Lyphee had connections with the biggest crime families in Mexico, Columbia and Ecuador. She had cornered the market in Panama hats back in 1979 and had gone on from one coup to another since then.

AMzing the things you learn on the Internet.

I dumped some saved pages tot he laser printer in the closet, folded up the Titanium and told Lucky what I had learned about COVAPID. She turned pale.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 05:17 PM

Sometimes I guy's got to do what a guy's got to do. Sometimes that even means going to talk to the flatfoot. I dropped Lucky at work and drove down to the Station, parking at the far end of the block out of habit. I made the walk almost to the door, when it popped open and who should appear but Theet Logos, dazzled by the sunlight on the street and blinking like a gaffed carp. He fumbled for his Vuarnets and slipped them on before the rear door of his limo was opened by a uniformed attendant and he was swallowedby the plush Corinthian leather inside.

I waited until the stretch caddy had zoomed off before I hit the door, the big desk sergeant glancing at me with disdain before sticking his schnoz back into the Newsweek from which he was busily engaged in collecting a world view. Without looking my way again, he said "what can I do for you sir?"

"I'd like to speak with the officer who's handling the Loonbucket murder."

"Well he's very busy. What do you want?"

"I've got some information for him."

The cop sighed and slid open a drawer, sighed again and got up heavily from his swivel chair. "I'm out of witness forms. Stay here, I'll be right back." When he disappeared into a door on the left, I flanked the desk and went down a hall on the right toward a murmur of voices. In an office two doors down three men were gathered around three cups of java and Logos' hunting knife. The conversation stopped as I stopped outside in the hall. The biggest of the three, a red-faced, balding, Irish-looking guy says "who are you? Who let you back here?"

"Dan Blake", I responded, using my traditional lame alias that I fell back on time and again during periods of duress. "Are you the investigating officer on the Loonbucket case?" He nodded and walked around the desk, close enough for me to get a whiff of Bushmill's off his breath. "I've got something to show you. Not here. You've got to come with me."

"Where the hell?" he grinned but there was an undertone of threat in his voice.

"Just down the street. Place called the Zephyr."

"Alright", he grinned to my surprise. We walked out past the Desk Sarge who said "Hey! I told...Everything ok Lieutenant?" The big Detective just said "if anybody calls I'm in conference. At the usual place."

We went out into the street, and I had to pick up the pace to keep up with the cop. "My name's Obannion, Mr Blake," said the Irishman. "You got a lot of nerve interrupting like that. I figure you for a PI."

I grinned back. "Was it the snoopy attitude?"

"No," he said, "it's the whiskey on your breath and the gun in your coat pocket." I was on the threshold of a new experience....I had met a cop I liked."I'll drink to that," I said.

"Damn right you will," Obannion grinned back.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 05:41 PM

**LEJ? Theet isn't the one with the limo -- that's Afteh Whoom, the Persian oil broker. Theet drives a purple pickup with 290,000 miles on it and a "Smith and Wesson on Board" bumper sticker!**

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 06:03 PM

We'd gone through six Bushmills with cold Coors backers, me trying to pump Obannion for info while giving him the stuff he probably already knew. Finally, he said "look, Blake. Stop trying to bs an old bs'er. Fact is Condolezza is right at the top of the suspect list. As long as you're working for her we're just drinking and blabbing."

"Yeah, she's a client, but it goes so far. If she did the old man, I don't want her money." Then I laid out what I knew for him. And he reciprocated. "I saw Theet leaving in his limo. He still on the suspect list?" Obannion laughed "Limo? You mean that beat to hell pickup?" I grinned, but the wheels were turning. It had indeed been Logos getting into the limo. "No", said the cop, "he's not on the list. He's a righty too." I finished the whiskey and put it down slowly. "A Righty?" Obannion ordered another round, turned and said "the wound angle on Loonbucket was impossible for a right-hander. The killer was a leftie. Like Condolezza Schwartz."

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 27 Jul 01 - 11:32 PM

We were getting ready to pack it in. I still couldn't figure it. Why was Condolezza running around with those roadies under Afteh Whoom's benevolent protection. Who WERE those guys? Why was she hobnobbing with a PepsiCo PR operative like Anita Lyphee? And what was Theet Logos doing in a stretch limo? He hadn't cut a disk since they ran out of medium-play master platters. It sure wasn't new found wealth. O'Bannion hadn't had a clue on that front.

I dropped into the phone booth at the front of the Zephyr and called the Keg 'n' Cork. Billy answered.

"Hey, Mister Madison! How ya been!!! Ya looking for Lucky? Hey, you need to take it easy here, ya know? Can't have you luring away the best thing that ever happened to the K'n'C!! Ha Hahh Haaa!!! Ya know??? Hahaha!! Say, lemme tell her to call ya back, wouldja? She's over talking to that banjo playing guy with the bottomless leg, the Heiniken drinker. Yeah, I'll tell her. So long, now, Mister Madison!! Don't take any wooden capos!!! Hahhaaahahaha!! Ya know what I mean???"

I hung up and drove across town to the K&C. I ordered a gingerale at the end of the bar from Billy, then carried it over to where Lucky was sitting with Theet Logos. He looked tired, and distraught, like someone had left his face out in the rain.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked pleasantly.

"Oh, Blake!! I am so glad to see you!!!" she smiled. Y'know -- she looked like she meant it, too. I paused, waiting for her to add to the remarks, but the run wa sover for now. She introduced me to Theet. I sat down across from him, sliding past Lucky who was perched on the end of the booth table.

I decided not to be coy. This guy had walked around the block a few times.

"What were you doing leaving the precinct house in a stretch limo, Theet?" I asked, boring into his tired skull with my gimlet look.

He didn't mind straight talk. He didn't mind dealing it out, either.

"I never could make aliving playing the banjo," he said evenly. "So when I got out of the Navy patrol boat business, and needed to enhance my cashflow, I started a little business dealing ion folk music recordings. There was always enough hangers-on left over from the Limelighter days that I could keep it going, and lately it was even starting to pick up some, make a couple of decent years. Aesthete Productions. Well, I gotta call in my room at the Motel Six this morning from the cops saying I had to go down and explain how my hunting knife got into poor Ned. They said it had marks on the handle that coudl only have been made by fingerpicks. I told them I'd come by, aroiund 10:00 or so, and I was just getting ready to shave when the phone rang again and it was some motormouthed dame worked for the PepsiCo company, said she HAD to see me on a matter of great importance tot he environment, and my business, and so on. So I told her I'd be at the precinct and she said she'd pick me up. That was her limo you saw."

"Anita Lyphee?"

"Yeah. She wanted to buy my business and use it to promote folk songs. I said, gimme a break, lady. The nearest thing to a folk song PepsiCo ever bought was Ray Charles. But she said, no this was serious. Important for the future of the environment, too. Said PepsiCo wasa going to take a major stand on environmental issues, and they thought Aesthete would be one of the key pieces. So they figgered to offer me 6 figures for it. I never had six figures, see. Well, my fourth wife had a double.... an' if you count my daughter, well, she's got one of her own.... so maybe that counts.... but not money..."

He was nodding off and I counted the Heinekin bottles. Six figures indeed. I nodded to Lucky and we helped Logos across the room into Billy's office. He keeps an army cot set up in the back, in between the unopened cases and clenaing supplies. Handy sometimes. We tucked him in, and Lucky gave him a little smooch on the head, and we went back out to the bar. We had some talking to do, and Lucky was still in Billy's 'kidgloves' book, so she took the afternoon off. We jsut walked down the streets together, comparing notes.

It felt a lot better than talking to the Irish detective. Lots better.

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Peter T.
Date: 28 Jul 01 - 09:20 AM

New thread time, for those with trad computers: here!

Subject: RE: Murder At The Folk Festival!!
From: Amos
Date: 01 Aug 01 - 10:44 AM

I woke up with urgency still running in my veins. I opened my eyes and flinched. Someone had left a bunch of excess sunlight in the room I was in, and it was getting all over everything. I tried again, slowly. No use. The sunlight was there and I wasn't in the mood to clean it up. Get used to it, bud.

I saw things I recognized -- the cheap industrial-grade venetian blinds and Motel-8 reject curtains of the Watt Angus Memorial Hospital. My left hand, lying on a white sheet. I noticed my ragged fingernails. Pete O'Banion, his generous rump overwhelming the thin edge of a plastic hospital visitor's chair, turned backwards for comfort.

And Condolezza Schwartz, a little rumpled and without her makeup.

And...Sherry.

All three of them were watching me with grave concern and hopeful little smiles, and thier eyes bugged with undelivered thoughts and conversation. The prospect was more than I could take. The only thing missing was a couple of Cosmos and Aftah Whom.

I groaned and retreated into blackness, the only mercy available.