Free Long Gone Man by Phyllis Smallman Page B

story,” Singer said.
    Lauren waited for her to go on.
    â€œIt might hurt your feelings.”
    Lauren took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I doubt anything about John can hurt me anymore.”
    â€œOkay. Johnny Vibes had a lucrative sideline selling drugs, that’s how he made his money. At every bar we played in, Johnny did his business. It’s hard to say if Johnny used touring to sell drugs or sold drugs to support the tour, but he sold drugs in every state in the country. The drugs brought people out to our concerts. It wasn’t only the music that put them in the seats, although we opened for some pretty big acts; they came for the easy access to drugs. It was like this secret that everyone knew.”
    â€œShit,” Lauren said. She stared at the floor for a while and then added, “John still gets the royalties from the song he wrote, ‘Long Gone Man,’ every time someone uses it. We weren’t just living off drug money.”
    Singer ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face, and studied her coffee.
    Lauren crossed her arms. “John’s death is going to bring about a lot of changes. I won’t be sorry to leave here.”
    â€œDo you know what you’re going to do?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œNo dreams to follow?”
    â€œNope.”
    The phone rang. Lauren made no move to answer it.
    It rang again. “Another reporter?” Singer suggested with a tilt of her head towards the phone. “Do you want me to give them the humble servant routine?”
    Lauren wrinkled her nose. “No.” She went to the phone. As she listened, the tension went out of her body.

Nineteen
    â€œOkay,” Lauren said. “That’s great. Just leave it at the road and we’ll walk down and get it.” She hung up. “That was Hank from the towing company. They got your van. The Mounties put cone lights around it last night to warn people it was there, not that anyone lives up beyond us or was likely to go to the lookout in the fog, but they were being cautious. It was too dangerous to try and move it until this morning.”
    The fear and dread from the night before seeped back into Singer and she shivered.
    â€œThey can’t bring your van up the drive because the Mounties won’t let anyone come up to the house, so I told them to leave it there and we’ll go down. I had them put a new battery in it and check it over.”
    â€œI can’t afford a new battery,” Singer protested.
    â€œWho’s asking you to pay? Finish your breakfast and we’ll take Missy for a walk and get your wheels.”
    â€œWhy would you pay?”
    â€œGood deeds are excellent for the soul and, lord knows, right now my soul needs all the help it can get.” She smiled and pulled a credit card out of the pocket of her jeans. “Besides, I charged it to John.”
    The trees still dripped with moisture but the fog had lifted. Beyond the stone wall bordering the edge of the cliff, a bald eagle rose from a nest at the top of a fir tree.
    â€œHoly cow,” Singer said.
    Lauren glanced to where the eagle balanced on the currents. Wings teetering, it hung there, seemingly effortlessly, a black silhouette on the sky.
    â€œHaven’t you ever seen one before?”
    â€œGod, not like this.”
    â€œThey have a brood there every spring, just adding more and more sticks to that big messy nest.”
    â€œMan, I’d already figured out that you’re a clean freak, but don’t tell me you worry about the housekeeping habits of eagles. That’s too much.”
    Lauren followed Missy to the edge of the patio, where the little dog snuffled at all kinds of interesting things hiding under the fallen leaves. Singer shielded her eyes with her hand and watched the eagle. When it disappeared in a sharp dive, she crossed the flagstone patio to the eighteen-inch stone wall, the only barrier from a drop into the tops