Maxx Nails It

by Peggy Ehrhart

Soft plinks from nylon strings sketch out “Stairway to Heaven.” It's a weird soundtrack for the scene they're looking at, Davie and Maxx. Or, come to think of it, maybe it's not.

Because Suzie-Q is dead, crammed into the grimy alcove between toilet and sink like she tried to squirm away from somebody and ran out of space.

Davie sinks to his knees and grabs the closest part of Suzie-Q, her foot, shod in a stylish black boot with a pointed toe and a stiletto heel. He lowers his head till it's touching her knee.

“Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie,” he moans, his voice like a mournful squeal on a harmonica. At least that's what it reminds Maxx of. She's been sitting in with his band, Harmonica Dave and the Rhythm Devils, and she's got harmonica on the brain.

“I knew something bad would happen.” Davie looks up at Maxx. His face is divided between anger and misery, brow like a thundercloud but mouth sagging like the mouth on a rubber mask.

“Was she using drugs or something?”

“No, no drugs--this is murder. Lola killed her.” He rubs his hand over his brow and wipes the thundercloud away. Now his whole face looks sad. “Lola's a crazy chick. That's why we're not together anymore.”

Maxx bends over to study Suzie-Q. A row of scratches scores the left side of her neck. It looks like she struggled while somebody strangled her, twisting and turning as fingernails raked her flesh.

“Lola's here tonight too,” Davie says, and the thundercloud takes over his brow again. “I saw her car in the lot when I came in. She's probably down in Studio D right now.” He climbs to his feet. “A couple of chicks fighting--” His voice drops and he sighs. “Over me.”

Maxx doesn't think Lola's that crazy. She pulls off one of the long black gloves she's been wearing lately, a thrift-store find. Maxx looks like what she is, a singer in a bar band--tall and skinny, but curvy on top, with hair too blonde to be natural.

Maxx contemplates her fingernails. They're short and unpolished. She thinks about Lola's hands.

The thundercloud is back. Davie 's clenching his fists, kind of panting. “That damn Lola,” he growls. “She was bad news right from the start.

Maxx backs away, alarmed, even though she knows he's not mad at her. “Suzie-Q used to hang out with that guy Frank?” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I saw him leaving the building on my way in.”

“So?”

“How come they broke up?”

“Because she started hanging out with me, I guess. So what?” Davie glowers and Maxx takes another step backwards.

“How did he take the breakup?”

“Not too happy. Who would be?”

“I'll tell Geary to call the cops.” Geary is the studio manager, plinking on his acoustic guitar in his cubbyhole around the corner while a mix of jazz, rock, and blues oozes from under the doors of rehearsal rooms.

Davie pushes through the bathroom door, bumping Maxx out of the way. “I'll take care of this myself. I know where Lola is.” Maxx grabs at his arm but the fabric of his denim shirt slips through her fingers.

* * *

Geary looks up from his guitar and Maxx tells him what's happening. As he reaches for the phone, she notices something, stares at his hand. A few seconds later, she's in the bathroom again, leaning close to Suzie-Q and studying her neck.

“Geary,” she yells around the corner. “Run down to Studio D right now and grab Davie . He's about to do something he'll really regret.”

Maxx runs too, catches up before Geary gets to the door, reaches past him to haul it open.

Lola's shrunk up into a tiny cowering shape with wild dark hair and a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. Two guys are clinging to Davie 's arms. He pulls loose just as Maxx steps into the room.

“Don't hurt her,” Maxx yells. “She didn't do it.”

“Yes she did.” Davie 's voice has that frantic harmonica squeal again. “Suzie-Q was my life . . . and now--” He breaks off stuttering. “I don't care what happens to me.” He springs toward Lola.

“Look at her hands.” Maxx yells again even though she hates what it'll do to her singer's throat. “Lola's hands--look at them.”

She locks eyes with Lola, whose terrified stare takes in the hands that Maxx raises to mime what Lola should do.

Lola holds out shaking fingers.

“So?” Davie 's puzzled enough to stand still for a minute. He's shaking too, but with anger.

“The scratches on Suzie-Q's neck. Where'd they come from? Look at Lola's nails.”

Lola has the bitten fingernails of a little kid.

Davie turns and looks at Maxx, his face a sagging rubber mask again.

“Frank played a guitar with nylon strings, didn't he?”

Davie nods.

Maxx grabs Geary's hands and holds them out where Davie can see them. “Check out the long fingernails on his right hand. Built in picks. The nylon-string guys cultivate them.”

She pulls Geary's hands toward her own neck, lets his nails rake her flesh.

“I'd have scratches on the left side if he dug deep, just like what Frank did to Suzie-Q.”