Chapter V: Hot Music

The Spanish room of the Greystark, the most magnificent hotel in town, was engaged. At eight o’clock on the night of the event the huge ballroom was nearly filled. Gaudy decorations had transformed the room into a great hacienda; brilliant streamers waved and floated and intertwined in a glowing mass of color.

Gay parties met and chatted, and the hum of steady conversation provided an accompaniment for all other sounds--the tuning of the instruments, the ceaseless rumble of passing traffic, the occasional clear laugh of a woman.

Up on the specially constructed platform, Leo Archer and his band were making ready. As always, Archer looked extremely bored and cynical. A sneering smile edged his lips as he looked out upon the festivities. Now and then he said something to the radio announcer of KYK, who faced a microphone just to the left of the platform.

On the floor Terhune was moving about from group to group, greeting all and sundry with his fixed smile. Over in a corner were Hughes and the dazzling young widow, Mrs. Van Goss.

Dave Cates could take in the whole scene from where he was sitting--up in an obscure little balcony with the curtains drawn just enough to permit of concealment. Before him, too, was a microphone, and beside him was a little lever by which he could switch the control instantly from the floor announcer to himself.

“Some gang, isn’t it, Ann?” he grinned, “Hadn’t you rather be down there with ’em than sitting up here just looking on?”

“Don’t be silly, Dave,” she said softly, smiling at him.

She was rather puzzled at all this, the microphone and the partly drawn curtains; but she asked no questions, realizing that Cates was on police duty of some sort.

With a crash of cymbal the band went into a modern, popular trot. The blue eyes of Officer Cates went to Archer. For all his boredom the man was a genius, and he was at his best to-night.

Leading his band with the baton, his eyes gleaming to the cutting thrusts of the trumpets, to the sense-lulling croon of the saxophones, to the twang of the banjo, he was a master of jazz.

Then the music softened and a hokum man stepped to the front of the platform, singing:

“The moon was new
And so was love.
This eager heart of mine was singing
Lover where can you be--ee----”

* * * * *

Cates glanced at Anabelle Talbot. In that music he could feel the expression of a longing--of a longing that was universal and poignant. Well, he knew what it was. He knew from the sudden throb in his temples as Anabelle’s hazel eyes met his for the briefest of instants. The age-old, deathless search for an ideal--and the ideal was here by his side.

“Oh, lover come back to me.”

Then the trumpets caught up the chorus and tossed it tempestuously about. Booming, thrilling, haunting music! No wonder Leo Archer was called a genius; no wonder he could name his own salary.

With a swirling rush of syncopation that died abruptly on a piercing, sustained note, the number ended. Thunderous applause broke out, applause in which Dave Cates joined.

“Gee, that music gets me!” he exclaimed.

Miss Talbot nodded understandingly.

“It gets me, too, Dave,” she said. “But wait until you hear the number he’s just written. He wrote it in three days, they say. The title of it is ‘Hot Music.’”

Officer Cates stared, then threw back his head and laughed.

“Well, if that’s not a pip!” he cried. “Lady, lady, that one wins the world! I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s good.”

“Why, what in the world----”

“You’ll find out shortly, Ann,” chuckled Gates. “Yes, very shortly.”

He pushed the curtain a bit to one side and scrutinized the crowd carefully. Ah, there she was--the woman he was looking for! She had just stepped in front of the band platform where Archer could hear her, and she was saying something to her companion. Then the two of them moved near Terhune and spoke again.

Dave Cates grew tense. Watching like a hawk he saw that Archer was stirring restlessly about, that Terhune seemed uneasy. In a moment Terhune left the hall.

Archer faced his band and held out his baton. The instruments came to attention. Down came the baton and seemed to strike forth a coherent cataclysm of sound from brass and strings. Flaring, the music rose to the heavens. Then, with the introduction well under way, Leo Archer laid down his baton and went hurriedly from the hall.