My new detective novel A Piece of Work takes place in 1959, and it features a scene in a Harlem blues club. Making a cameo role is the incomparable jazz trumpeter Miles Davis. On August 17, 1959, Miles Davis had released the studio album Kind of Blue. Many critics regard that album as the greatest jazz album of all time.Here in this excerpt from A Piece of Work we find the protagonist, Lee Linville and his friend Sid in a basement blues club where they meets the mysterious and enticing Lena Lehane.
“Do you dig jazz?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, I dig it,” Sid said.
“Oh yeah, I dig it too,” Lee lied.
“You see those cats on the main kick?” she asked.
Sid and Lee turned to the band onstage.
“You see that cat with the horn?” Lena said.
They looked at the trumpet player.
“That’s Miles Davis.”
Linville wanted to ask, who’s Miles Davis? but he did not.
“That’s Miles Davis?” Sid exclaimed.
“That’s the man,” Lena said. She took a cigarette out of her purse and held it out. “Either one of you fine gentlemen have a light for a lady?”
Both of them scrambled through their pockets for a light.
Sid came out with a matchbook. He broke one off, struck it and lit her cigarette. My god, thought Lee, she even smoked sexy.
“Would either of you fine gentlemen care to buy a lady a drink?” she asked.
Lee reached into his pocket, but he knew there was no money there.
“We certainly would,” Sid said. “But unfortunately we’re down to our last ruff.”
Lena looked indignant. “I thought all you white boys
had money. I should have known you were cut-rate just by looking at you.”
“You like white boys with money?” Linville asked.
“What else are they good for?” Lena said.
“You know a white skin beater used to hang out here? Name of Rafferty. Doug Rafferty.”
“Yeah, I know him.”
“You do!” Lee wanted to ask her more, but Lena held up a hand as she looked towards the stage. She butted her cigarette in an ashtray without even looking at it.
Miles Davis stood at the microphone and addressed the audience. Davis was a handsome man in his early thirties, with his hair cut short and serious demeanor. His eyes were solemn and when he spoke his voice was soft and came out like a hoarse whisper.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Just a couple of months ago we lost a giant talent. A singer and songwriter that can never be replaced. I am talking about the late, great Billie Holiday.”
At the mention of Billie Holiday the patrons applauded and Sid gripped Lee’s arm.
“I didn’t know Billie all that well,” Davis continued. “We didn’t hang out or nothing like that. I know she loved my son, Gregory. I like to remember Billie before… when she was younger. She was a good looking woman. Nobody could sing like Billie. Everybody loved Billie. I would like to call a woman up on the stage. She’s a fine dinner and she’s going to sing some of Billie’s songs. Please pound your mitts for Miss Lena Lehane.”
Lena stood up from the table to the applause of the audience. She stepped up on stage and in front of the microphone.
“For my first number I would like to sing Long Gone Blues,” Lena said, and had to pause at the outburst of applause, whistles and cheers. “Billie wrote Long Gone Blues and if you ever heard her sing it, you could just tell she sang every word like she meant it.”
I’ve been your slave
Ever since I’ve been your babe
But before I see your door
I’ll see you in your grave
I’m a good gal
But my love is all wrong
I’m a good gal
But my love has gone
The song was a sultry number reminiscent of the late 1930s.
“She’s good,” Sid leaned over and said in Lee’s ear. “But not as good as Billie was.”
