The Case of the Non Singing Singer

By Kenny Love

Copyright © 2008 Kenny Love All Rights Reserved

Storyline: After having solved the case of why a band's CD was not selling a couple of years ago and having become somewhat of a local celebrity with having done so, Detective John Clark's services are, once again, contracted to crack a case of how and why a local singer was shot at a popular local nightclub.
NOTE: Detective John Clark made his debut in "The Great CD Cover Mystery," which can be read at CDMystery.html but is not to be confused with the character Detective John Clark from the NYPD television series.

Characters: Detective John Clark, Deb Turbulent, Captain David Tolliver, Charlie: Cornball

After having gotten used to suddenly being a celebrity within the local music community I had managed to attain from having solved a case of why a popular band's CD would not sell, I was back to being Average Joe Citizen again. I could tell that businesses were getting a bit weary of me through a gradual drying up of services that had been overly present.
Such as the limit of 15 cups of coffee that the little coffee shop down the street had suddenly imposed...cheapskates. Or, the fact that Joe's Diner across town had reduced my three daily free meals to a single helping.
From my famous case, I had ended up dating Deb Turbulent, who was the lead singer of the band whose case I had taken. Deb was still gorgeous, but had let her nice pageboy haircut that sucked me in grow out to shoulder length.
We had let our relationship get serious and were giving consideration to taking it to the next stage, which was going to Disneyland together. Her bandmates, however, never took a liking to me, and when Deb announced our relationship to them, it became quite an issue and she ended up quitting the group altogether. :-)
Anyway, Deb and I are doing fine, but enough about me. I'm here to tell you about my latest case, so here goes...
On this evening, at approximately 7:15 p.m., Deb and I were waiting to get a table at Pappadeaux's, our favorite Cajun restaurant on the southwest side of Houston on Westheimer Road.
After being seated, we ordered appetizers, with Deb getting her usual order of a half-dozen of Mixed Oysters & Shrimp and me ordering the Texas Gulf Coast Oysters.
We had been enjoying their deliciousness for only five minutes when I got a call. It was Captain David Tolliver from HPD on the line. Normally, cops don't call private detectives at the onset of a homicide case, but this was special.
Detective John Clark: "This is Clark."
Captain Tolliver: "How ya doin', John?"
Clark: "P O'd, Captain. I'm right in the middle of my fourth Pappadeaux oyster. How do you think I'm doing?"
Tolliver: "Sorry about that, but this is important."
Clark: "So is this oyster! What you got?"
Tolliver: "A dead singer."
Clark: "What?"
Tolliver: "Somebody shot a singer over at Jimmy Jammy's a few minutes ago."
Clark: "Singer must have hit a couple of wrong notes too many."
Tolliver: "Don't be a wise-ass, John. This person is dead."
Clark: "Yeah, so I've been told. Any witnesses?"
I suddenly realized that Deb had that look on her face that says I should have let the voicemail catch Tolliver's call.
Tolliver: "Of course not...at least, none that will talk to us."
Clark: "I thought bands didn't usually start gigs until around 9 p.m."
Tolliver: "Normally, they don't."
Clark: "So, explain to me how a singer, of all people, gets killed in a nightclub before the sun sets, with no witnesses."
It was more of a rhetorical statement than a professional question, but Tolliver felt the need to respond anyway.
Tolliver: "That's why you earn $300 a day plus expenses...to detect."
Clark: "I am also detecting something that smells like what I stepped in when I visited the family farm one summer."
Tolliver: "How soon can you get down here?"
Clark: "Give me 15."
Tolliver: "By the way...how's Deb? Still gorgeous?"
Clark: "Well, Captain, it's a little hard to tell since, at the moment, fire is coming out of her eyes like Supergirl. But, if it's any consolation, I'm certain that by now, she hates your guts completely."
Tolliver: "See ya in a few."
I hung up.
Clark: "Sorry, babe, but you may want to join me on this one."
Deb:: "You know? One day I may actually get to know what finishing a meal at Pappadeaux's is really like."
We left and headed down to Jimmy Jammy's on Fondren Road. The place was known for rocking harder than a seaship in a Cat 5 hurricane. I pulled in, parked, and we went inside. Tolliver and a couple of uniforms, one a sergeant, were talking. The uniforms left as we approached.
Tolliver: "Hi, Deb."
Deb:: "Captain."
Tolliver: "How was Pappadeaux?"
Deb:: "I'm not sure, because I keep having this recurring nightmare that when I'm just about to enjoy my meal, you call."
Tolliver had no energy to go heads up with her and turned to me.
Tolliver: "See what you can dig up, and let me know first thing tomorrow."
I nodded, Tolliver left, and Deb went and stood against a wall with her arms folded while I approached a guy at the bar who was sitting on a stool and facing outward with his head down.
Clark: "Hey..."
The guy looked at me, then dropped his head again.
Clark: "I'm Detective John-
Guy: "Clark...I know who you are...you were in all the papers a coupla years back."
Clark: "Well, you know me, but I'm at a sudden disadvantage here."
Guy: "I'm Charlie."
Clark: "Still feeling disadvantaged, Charlie...got a last name?"
Guy: "Cornball."
Clark: "Excuse me?"
I couldn't be sure, but I thought he said his last name was Cornball.
Guy: "Cornball...my last name...it's Cornball."
I immediately understood why Mr. Charlie Cornball was reserved in offering up his entire name in one sentence to a perfect stranger. And, while I wanted to immaturely burst out laughing as if I had just heard a Steve Harvey comment, I managed to maintain my composure.
Clark: "Okay, Mr. Cornball."
Cornball: "Look, just call me Charlie, because I can't even stand to hear my own last name."
Again, I wanted to die laughing, and turned aside to let a bit of it out, but managed to suppress most of it.
Clark: "How do you come to be here?"
Cornball: "I manage the place."
Clark: "So, tell me...what happened."
Copyright © 2008 Kenny Love All Rights Reserved
Stay tuned for Part 2...
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