apprehended him, and dragged him back to Aaron's temporary office. He screamed and fought and cursed and moaned, and was surprisingly tough, but in the end he gave in. Everyone was exhausted by then.
"Who did you kill?" Ron demanded.
"What?"
"Who did you kill?"
"No, you're going about this all wrong, mate," the man said, "If you're tryin' to nab me for something, you don't want to admit that you don't know what it is I did." Aaron silently admitted to himself that it was a good point.
"We know you killed someone," said Ron, "So who was it?"
"Well, if you don't know who it was, then you don't have a body, right? And if you don't have a body, then you clearly don't know I did it, 'cuz, there's no evidence." ' Damn, ' thought Aaron, ' he's a lot smarter than his silly hat would lead you to expect. '
Evans continued to use the hard sell on him, but Aaron just sat back and watched it. After about ten minutes, the Englishman didn't crack, so he simply said, "He didn't do it, Ron. You can go, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"You're bleedin' well right you're gonna be sorry for the inconvenience! This is wrongful imprisonment, I'm gonna sue you..."
"No, wrongful arrest. Wrongful imprisonment is something else. If we'd tied you to the chair, then that would have been wrongful imprisonment, but we just wrongfully arrested you. And as we're private detectives paid for by Boeing, you were never charged with anything formally, so it'll be hard to make it stick. I'll be happy to recommend a lawyer for you, if you like though. Ron, call Susan and have her pick out some lawyers for Mister Le..."
"All right, all right," the Brit cut him off. "So what's going on?"
Aaron sized him up for a moment, then said, "We think—thought—that there's been a murder somewhere..."
"Boss, no!" Evans exclaimed!
Aaron continued without pausing, "...on the base, but as you and the head of Boeing security point out, no body: no crime," then shot his sidekick a cold stare.
"He's our chief suspect!" Evans exclaimed.
"Oh, he is not. He didn't do it."
"You don't know that," Ron said.
"Yes I do, and you do too. Just look at him. Did you kill anyone, son?"
"No sir," the Brit said, "no, I could never kill anyone... life is too sacred, All you need is..."
"Then why did he run?" Evans demanded.
"Probably because we chased him," Aaron offered.
"'S right, mate! Human nature!" The Brit said.
"Again, I'm sorry for all the fuss, sir. I do ask that if you see anything suspicious here, you please let me or Mr. Evans know, ok?"
"Gear!" And he walked away.
When he was out of site, Evans said, "You want me to tail him?"
"Oh, hell yeah!" said Aaron.
* * *
The opening act sucked. What made them worse, Aaron thought, was the elements of their songs were actually kind of good, but they just didn't work in relationship to each other. Their Everly Brothers-styled harmonies were very nice and very tight, and their drummer was very, very good, but he kept launching in to Gene Krupa-like drum leads that completely overshadowed everything else. The lead guitarist—the one who'd been talking to Orbison about God earlier—was technically very good, but hadn't developed any particular style or flash of his own, and he and the bassist were clearly at odds with each other musically. And that bassist—that bassist was just the worst thing Aaron had ever seen. Lord, he was terrible. Aaron had a thing for music, and when the music press had described the bassist as a 'brilliant deconstructionist,' he'd been interested to see them play live just so he could figure out what that phrase meant. Turns out it meant playing one note on one string for an entire song, then playing the same note on the same string for the next entire song, and so on, for the whole set. Terrible. John, Paul, George, Pete, and Stu might be the fab five of England, but it was pretty clear that The Silver Beatles were never going to amount to anything in the 'States.
In the security booth,
"Who did you kill?" Ron demanded.
"What?"
"Who did you kill?"
"No, you're going about this all wrong, mate," the man said, "If you're tryin' to nab me for something, you don't want to admit that you don't know what it is I did." Aaron silently admitted to himself that it was a good point.
"We know you killed someone," said Ron, "So who was it?"
"Well, if you don't know who it was, then you don't have a body, right? And if you don't have a body, then you clearly don't know I did it, 'cuz, there's no evidence." ' Damn, ' thought Aaron, ' he's a lot smarter than his silly hat would lead you to expect. '
Evans continued to use the hard sell on him, but Aaron just sat back and watched it. After about ten minutes, the Englishman didn't crack, so he simply said, "He didn't do it, Ron. You can go, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"You're bleedin' well right you're gonna be sorry for the inconvenience! This is wrongful imprisonment, I'm gonna sue you..."
"No, wrongful arrest. Wrongful imprisonment is something else. If we'd tied you to the chair, then that would have been wrongful imprisonment, but we just wrongfully arrested you. And as we're private detectives paid for by Boeing, you were never charged with anything formally, so it'll be hard to make it stick. I'll be happy to recommend a lawyer for you, if you like though. Ron, call Susan and have her pick out some lawyers for Mister Le..."
"All right, all right," the Brit cut him off. "So what's going on?"
Aaron sized him up for a moment, then said, "We think—thought—that there's been a murder somewhere..."
"Boss, no!" Evans exclaimed!
Aaron continued without pausing, "...on the base, but as you and the head of Boeing security point out, no body: no crime," then shot his sidekick a cold stare.
"He's our chief suspect!" Evans exclaimed.
"Oh, he is not. He didn't do it."
"You don't know that," Ron said.
"Yes I do, and you do too. Just look at him. Did you kill anyone, son?"
"No sir," the Brit said, "no, I could never kill anyone... life is too sacred, All you need is..."
"Then why did he run?" Evans demanded.
"Probably because we chased him," Aaron offered.
"'S right, mate! Human nature!" The Brit said.
"Again, I'm sorry for all the fuss, sir. I do ask that if you see anything suspicious here, you please let me or Mr. Evans know, ok?"
"Gear!" And he walked away.
When he was out of site, Evans said, "You want me to tail him?"
"Oh, hell yeah!" said Aaron.
* * *
The opening act sucked. What made them worse, Aaron thought, was the elements of their songs were actually kind of good, but they just didn't work in relationship to each other. Their Everly Brothers-styled harmonies were very nice and very tight, and their drummer was very, very good, but he kept launching in to Gene Krupa-like drum leads that completely overshadowed everything else. The lead guitarist—the one who'd been talking to Orbison about God earlier—was technically very good, but hadn't developed any particular style or flash of his own, and he and the bassist were clearly at odds with each other musically. And that bassist—that bassist was just the worst thing Aaron had ever seen. Lord, he was terrible. Aaron had a thing for music, and when the music press had described the bassist as a 'brilliant deconstructionist,' he'd been interested to see them play live just so he could figure out what that phrase meant. Turns out it meant playing one note on one string for an entire song, then playing the same note on the same string for the next entire song, and so on, for the whole set. Terrible. John, Paul, George, Pete, and Stu might be the fab five of England, but it was pretty clear that The Silver Beatles were never going to amount to anything in the 'States.
In the security booth,
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