Casualty of Glamour (part v)
“Keith wasn't just a rockstar...” an officer began.
“Simplest way to explain why, more 50 years after Black Caesar. He still feels different from almost everyone who came after. Plenty of singers had great voices. Plenty of front--men can command a stage. And plenty of musicians wrote classic songs----”
“Everyone except Baccino.” corrected the detective's partner.
“Her mother said it's the same guy.” said the detective.
“Same guy scheduled to perform at the Gladstone in 1976?! C'mon.”
“So you're saying there's no connection? No resemblance...?”
The resemblance was uncanny. After interviewing the woman's mother, Detective Carver had researched to discover a news story of a shooting outside a bar---racially motivated. Old newspapers reported that after a performance, a black rock-n'-roll front--man left the stage with two white women... arousing envy from the crowd. Then someone brandished a gun.
The black-and-white headline had called it an attempted lynching.
Pictures sensationalizing the white assailant sat alongside pictures of the bar, and a photo that unmistakably matched all descriptions they'd been given about Baccino.
It looked exactly like the face on his Spotify page. It didn't make any sense.
Carver sighed and looked across the room. In the back, the oldest officer at the station slowly made his way over and said, “I have footage from one of his concerts in Toronto.”
Detective Carver blinked. “Show me.”
They left the station. Took a drive to a condo in Old Toronto. The grey--haired officer brought out a cassette--tape and fumbled around with a dusty VHS system for a bit. While he worked, Carver glanced at his shelf: worn hard--cover books on astrology, ancient religions, mysticism, voodoo, magic and tomes from 20th century occult figures.
He recognized only one name, Dr. Hyatt. That name was all over skyscrapers in different parts of Toronto. He remembered an obscure story from his trainee days.
A beep from VHS cut through the silence. The officer’s TV crackled to life.
“I wasn't able to get a full recording of the show. But what you're about to see---” He trailed off as the music began, running fingers through what was left of his hair.
They watched Keith perform Black Caesar with his band on the VHS.
The officer had been right about his voice. The detective didn't believe in the supernatural, but he had no explanation for all this.
“That's Diva beside him.” offered the officer after the clip stopped.
“Is she still alive too?” Carver asked quietly.
“Yes.”
Back at the station, Ruiz was getting agitated. He'd already burned through his pack of menthols and was considering another. The stress ate at him like worms.
He felt insulted Carver didn't bring him to see the concert. He left the station and walked to a bookstore, looking for some magazines. He searched a couple floors before he found the clue that he was expecting. The photo on that iPhone lock---screen had come from an editorial in a French magazine. The fashion model was on the cover with Baccino and another woman, he studied their expressions, then opened it.
He paused on the third page, then looked back at the cover. Publish date was recent.
Ruiz prayed she was alive.
There was something about the energy in her eyes that just thrilled him.
At Yorkville's Chanel store, the dark--haired woman with blonde highlights sips champagne as she looked around. The speakers played while the click--clack of her stilettos mixed with their music playlist. She glanced at a clerk who moved towards her swiftly, then pointed at a beautifully crafted bag near the center of the store. The clerk smiled.
“Noir...” she demanded.
“Très élégant mademoiselle.”
She smirked airily and kept drinking. There wasn't much time to waste.
When it was time to pay, she used a card, then asked if it could be delivered to a specific address. The clerk assured her that it could. She asked for pen and paper, then wrote down the name of a hotel in the Yorkville, and her phone buzzed three--times.
The hip--hop ringtone started. She already knew it was Baccino.
No time to waste.
Discontent - Cino Sundays 003
The complete recording remains inside the Mirror Room
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