"I know," Brad said as he reached over the bar and gathered up two menus. "The timing is off."

John was careful to keep his voice down as he answered, "I wonder if it was me they were shooting at."

Brad stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Maybe there's more to Tammy Goodchild than music."

John nodded thoughtfully.

Over at the jukebox, John slipped in two quarters and randomly picked something out. The place slowly started to come to life as more people ambled in. He noticed one guy who had been there the night before and a few other repeat customers.

Brad disappeared into the back for a few minutes before returning to their conversation.

"I need to be following up on the Michael Gallager death instead of harping on Goodchild," John admitted more to himself than Brad.

"I can't believe you haven't heard of her."

"I know. I'm just not in the local click like you are. I need to learn more about her," the private eye said and added, "My life might depend on it."

"Did you check her side of the story?" Brad asked.


John felt guilty for taking a dime from his client. He had not even researched her background, what actually happened the night Gallager died, what she did and what she saw. Maybe he was taking this case a little too lightly, he thought. Sometimes the simple becomes complex and the complex becomes simple when nothing is done at all. "That's what I mean by having work to do," he said. "I need to talk to Tammy without her agent in the picture. And I need to get with Frank and see what really happened to that car and Michael Gallager."

Brad promised to keep his ears open and to tell John if anything new was learned. John managed to find out about a few other bands that had management deals with Michael Gallager. Brad even volunteered to call John if any of the guys from the other bands came in.

John used the drive time from the bar to his office to think. He had the rest of his day planned out. First he would call and set up some time for Tammy. He really wanted to hear her side of the story and any details he may have missed when she first cam to him with her problem. His second tack was so slip by his mother's house and see how she was doing. He would then try to take a look at Mr. Gallager's smashed Corvette. Having worked on his own vehicles all of his life, he could easily tell if the brake line had been tampered with in any way.

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