The Rock 'N Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - a Spike Berenger Anthology Read Free Page A

anyone, but who was counting? For a fifty-year-old, middle-aged, twenty-five pound overweight private investigator he could be a winning beau.
    Berenger tried to exude sexual intensity into the mirror but ended up laughing at the absurdity of the idea. He quickly turned on the shower and got inside the stall. As the hot water washed away the sweat he thought back to the birthday party that had taken place in the studio. It hadn’t been a particularly happy occasion for him. He wanted to turn fifty about as much as a cat wants to lose its eighth life. Berenger wasn’t much of a believer in birthday parties but his staff had insisted on celebrating. They had invited his ex-wife and kids, too, and that was a little weird. Berenger loved Michael and Pam, both of them pushing the tail ends of their teens, and he still had a warm fondness for Linda, the woman he had married rather abruptly in 1984. Michael and Pam were born minutes apart in 1985 but by 1987 the marriage was kaput. Berenger just wasn’t the go-to-work-and-then-come-home kind of husband. There were too many pulls on his life and he had to satisfy each one. Apparently he hadn’t satisfied Linda’s. He had to hand it to her for not remarrying, even though she had changed her name back to Steinman.
    Turning fifty was similar to turning forty, although Berenger had to admit it wasn’t as bad. This time he merely went on a three-day binge of Southern Comfort and marijuana, out from which he had decided to climb that very morning and come to work. Ten years ago he had disappeared for nearly two weeks.
    That one was a hangover for the books.
     
    D ressed and refreshed, Berenger was preparing to leave his private quarters and join the rest of his staff when his phone buzzed. It was Rudy, calling from the ground floor office.
    “Yeah?” Berenger answered.
    “Get down here,” Rudy said. “We have a client.”
    “You don’t say?”
    “I do say.”
    “Who is it?”
    “Does the name Gina Tipton mean anything to you? She’s in my outer office as we speak.”
    Gina Tipton !
    “Flame’s first wife?” Berenger blurted, unable to mask his amazement.
    “Yeah, Flame’s first wife!” Rudy answered with enthusiasm. He obviously thought there was money to be made.
    Peter Flame had been the number one topic in the music news for the past two weeks. Ever since his apparent suicide after the New York performance of his American tour, the tributes and testaments to the rock star’s life had been flooding the airwaves. Not since the death of John Lennon had the world been so mournful over a musician.
    “She’s here with her lawyer,” Rudy added.
    Berenger asked, “Has something happened I don’t know about?”
    “Haven’t you heard the news? The police arrested Flame’s son for murder.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah. Can you believe that?”
    “Which son?”
    “Adrian.”
    “I thought Flame hung himself. It was a suicide.”
    “That’s what they thought at first. Now they’re saying it was murder. Last night they picked up Adrian Duncan and booked him.”
    Berenger was surprised. “Well, hell, I didn’t hear that. I didn’t turn on the news today. In fact, I haven’t heard any news for the past three days.”
    “So get down here.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    Berenger had been a fan of Flame’s and had known him personally. Berenger remembered meeting him in 1979. At that time Berenger was the tour manager for Grendel, a Prog Rock act that had been pretty big in the early seventies but was on its last legs by then. Flame was mates with Grendel’s front man and guitarist and as a favor he hired the band to support his solo tour of Europe. Berenger got to know Flame as well as anyone that summer. Later, when Flame’s Heat was back together, Berenger ran into Flame again on several occasions associated with the music business. Berenger thought Flame was a decent guy. Hell, the man was a legend, right up there with the greats. Berenger was shocked to hear of