Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 811 & 812, March/April 2009

She’d been trying to decide if she found me tolerable or not. She’d just made her decision. Not trying to hide her irritation, she said, “I’m just doing what he asked me, Mr. Rafferty. I’m not privy to his thoughts.”

“Aw, God. I’m sorry. I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

“Well, there are a lot of people here tonight who’d be happy to visit with him in his dressing room. Consider yourself lucky.”

She didn’t have anything more to say to me until we reached backstage and the row of three doors off the left wing of the stage. She knocked gently on the center door and said, “Mr. Temple?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Rafferty is here.”

“Great. The door’s unlocked.”

She stood back for me. I wondered if she could tell how angry I was at hearing his voice. Four years of rage, of betrayal. I wanted to rip the knob off and flatten the door on my way inside, where I’d grab him and begin beating him to death.

But he was quicker than I was. He stood in the open door, all black-clad rock star, smiling camera-big and camera-bright. He’d learned that smirking with your mouth made you enemies. Now he tucked his smirks into his dark eyes. He took a step forward and I thought he was actually going to give me a Hollywood man-hug, but he obviously sensed that that might not be such a good idea so he settled for waving me in. The small room held a large closet, a makeup table with the mirror encircled by small bright bulbs, and several vases stuffed with red congratulatory roses.

“Close the door, would you?” he said.

“You want it closed, you close it.”

He walked over to the dressing table and hoisted a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Black. “I’m sure you’d rather have this than all that sissy-boy wine they’re serving. You get some Jack, I get the door closed. That’s how the world works, Rafferty.”

I kicked it shut with my heel.

“Nice to know you’ve grown up,” he said, not looking at me, pouring each of us healthy drinks.

“What the hell you want to see me about?”

The eye smirked as the hand offered me my drink. “We didn’t leave on the best of terms. Maybe I feel guilty about things.”

“Oh, man. Spare me this crap, all right? You dumped us because you knew we were going to get a contract and then you’d have to share the spotlight with us. You wanted it all your own.”

The sharpness of his laugh surprised me. The contempt was bullet-true. “God, Rafferty, do you really believe that? Please tell me that’s not what you really think.”

But before I could say anything he went on.

“I stayed a year longer than I should have. I stayed because we went all the way back to grade school. I stayed because we were friends. But Pete’s habit got worse and worse and you—” He paused.

“And me? What about me?”

I noticed that the smirk was gone. The gaze was uncomfortable. “You’re not the greatest guitarist I’ve ever worked with.”

“I was good enough to write songs with.” But the whine in my voice sickened me as much as it probably pleased him.

“You’ll notice I’ve never recorded any of those songs. Never played them on stage. Never tried to sell them.”

“So you called me in here to tell me what a genius you are and what losers Pete and I are?”

“I called you in here to have a drink and to say that I’m sorry for how things were left. It’s natural for you to think of me as a bad guy. But I had the right to do what I did. A lot of people leave groups and go out on their own. I didn’t commit any mortal sins.”

“Maybe not. But you helped destroy Pete.”

“Pete was already destroyed. It was just that neither of you would admit it then. I’ve kept track of him. In and out of rehab. Every time the stays get longer. Every time there’s a little bit less of the Pete we grew up with.”

The words came out. I didn’t say them. In fact I was as shocked as John had to be. “Well, right now there’s enough of him left to be off alone somewhere with your wife.”

There was a flash of deep pain in the eyes. “I’m well aware of that, Michael. One of my people has been keeping an eye on her for me. Kelly and Pete are in a small office off the balcony. I’m trying not to think about what’s going on.”

Again he spoke before I could.

“I could stop them. But she needs to get it out of her system. She thinks she’s still in love with him. Her one true love. I have everything I’ve always wanted now, but I’ll never have her the way Pete had her. Maybe when she sees him tonight, sees that he’s not who he once was—” He shrugged. “But that’s kidding myself. She loves the idea of Pete. She knew he was a junkie and that’s why she went off with me. But she can’t get rid of this idea of him.” He tapped his forehead. “She won’t see him as he really is. He’ll be the old Pete to her.”

I wanted to think that this was just a performance. That way I could enjoy it as simple bad acting. But I knew better. As much as I hated him I knew that he was telling the truth.

“That make you happy, Michael?”

“Yeah. It does. The one thing you can’t have. That makes me very happy.”