Overture to Murder, page 17
For the first time, despite Larry’s vehement disapproval, Julia felt firm in her resolve. She was convinced that no matter what, she had to do her part, however small, to help make the opera house safe again. She would have to find a way to persuade Larry of the value of her contribution to the inspectors’ investigating efforts, to do her part in getting to the bottom of the situation—without placing herself or her child in danger. Whether he would come around to her point of view remained to be seen.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Fricka
Du schufst ihm die Noth,
wie das neidliche Schwert.
You created in him the need,
as you did the vanquishing sword.
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
In the wings, Felicia and James helped Taylor and Cristina organize and divide their work of questioning company members who were involved in the rehearsal.
“Thank goodness the cast for this opera is small,” Felicia said. “One of you can speak with the musicians in their lounge. The other can use the pressroom for the additional company members.”
“That should work. I’ll take the musicians, Cristina. You take the others.” Taylor said. “This situation is a special case, Felicia, in that the cause of death might have been poisoning, as it was in the previous incident.”
“This kind of ‘M.O.,’ as we say in the business, could have been used by someone who was in the company but not in the cast or crew,” Cristina added.
“Does that mean you want to interview everyone in the company?”
“If it’s okay with you, Felicia, we’ll start with those who were directly involved.”
“Of course. Please follow me.” Felicia led the two inspectors to the stage and addressed the company members who were waiting there. “We are going to divide you into two groups. Pierre-Henri, all of the crew, come with Taylor, me, and the musicians,” she said, gesturing at Taylor. “The rest of you, follow Cristina to the pressroom.”
Luisa, onstage kneeling over the body, looked up at Felicia. “Given the nature of this piece of evidence, Felicia…” She gestured at the spear, wrapped in a collection of evidence bags. “…I think someone should speak to the person responsible for overseeing props.”
“That would be Richard, our Master of Properties.” Felicia turned to James. “Please call Richard and ask him to come to the musicians’ lounge as soon as possible.”
Luisa mouthed a “Thank you” to Felicia. Taylor and Cristina shepherded their operatic flocks to their respective hillocks.
* * *
Richard arrived at the lounge as Pierre-Henri and Mikko were explaining to Taylor how the staging with the spear plays out in the plot.
“Mikko plays the villain, Hunding, who murders Siegmund, played by…” Pierre-Henri paused. “…Our late colleague, Andres. By stabbing him in the chest with the spear.”
Taylor could see Mikko was shaken. He nodded toward the singer. “What can you tell me about this spear?”
“It’s…it’s sharp enough to look authentic onstage from the audience,” Mikko said. “But I could not have known that it had been…tampered with.” Mikko’s tears were causing his stage makeup to run in rivulets down his face. “Andres was my closest friend. No way would I have harmed him.”
Taylor thought Mikko’s protestations genuine; nonetheless, having spent some time at the opera house, he felt any opera singer could put on a convincing acting performance—on or offstage. And he couldn’t rule out a jealousy factor at play between the two singers.
A dark-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses appeared. “I can confirm that’s true. Mikko and Andres were like brothers.”
“And you are?” Taylor asked.
“Richard Keene, Master of Properties. I’m the one responsible for all the props.”
Taylor could see Richard was agitated. “Do you participate in creating them?”
“Often, yes.”
“And in this one?”
“I helped design it and sculpted the handle onto it. I try to make the props look as authentic as possible in the context of the opera stories.”
“What substance did you use for that?”
“It’s something called Green-Stuff 2-part Epoxy. Very commonly used in theatre productions. With some paint, the sculpt cleaned up nicely so the glue would not be visible.”
“Is this epoxy toxic?”
“Not generally, though we always wear masks when handling these kinds of materials.”
“What exactly was your task in handling the spear once it was made?”
“I inspect every property before handing it off to a singer or super. But there are so many props in this opera—swords, spears, and the like—it’s impossible to watch all of them at all times.”
“Who else has access to the prop room?” Taylor asked.
“It’s kept locked all the time, except when there’s a rehearsal or performance going on,” Richard said. “But during those times, it’s impractical to secure the props when we’re constantly going back and forth to take some out and bring others back. Which also makes it difficult for anyone who isn’t supposed to be there to sneak in unseen.”
“But it is possible for someone who works at the opera house to have crept in after hours and alter the spear without your knowing?”
“By ‘alter,’ you mean…?”
“According to the initial findings by our M.E., the spear might have had a poisonous substance affixed to the tip.”
“What?” Richard took a moment to process Taylor’s statement.
“Were you aware that Mikko’s spear might have been tampered with?”
“If the spear was tampered with, I should have known.” Richard frowned. “In which case, it was my fault. I wasn’t vigilant enough.”
“Sounds like you have a difficult job there. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Taylor said. “But would it be feasible that someone altered the spear without your knowing?”
“It’s possible, yes,” Richard said. “But I’m still the one in charge, the one who has to answer to everyone. And I’ve fallen short in my duties. You shouldn’t blame Mikko for anything. He is merely acting his part.” He shook his head. “Poison. My God.”
Taylor felt a frisson of sympathy for the Prop Master. “It isn’t necessarily your fault. From the looks of it, we may be dealing with a mastermind who will stop at nothing to accomplish whatever evil he or she is determined to perpetrate. The same one who might have poisoned Yves Chauvet. Even your constant vigilance might not have prevented this calamity.”
* * *
Once the crew and other company members had filed into the pressroom, Cristina lost no time in posing the hard questions to Felicia.
“As general director, I’m sure you must know the ins and outs of company relationships and conflicts,” Cristina said. “So, tell me. Who had it in for Andres?”
“Andres was popular. Everyone liked him,” Felicia replied. “Everyone but Helene, the singer who plays the all-important role of Brünnhilde.”
“Ah, yes. The one who accused Andres of sending her threatening letters.”
“That is correct. It now seems clear he was not the source of those letters.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Cristina said. “But whether or not he sent the letters, if Helene believed they came from Andres, it would explain her possible vendetta against him.”
Cristina looked around for Helene. It was not difficult to identify her. She was the only person in the room who was sitting alone—and looking unruffled.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fricka
Entzieh’ dem den Zauber, zerknick’ es dem Knecht!
Schutzlos find’ ihn der Feind’!
Then annihilate its magic, let its steel fall to pieces!
Let his enemies find him defenseless!
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
Despite her role in investigating Chauvet’s murder, Julia wasn’t taken aback when Taylor insisted on questioning her about Andres.
“Were you or any of your orchestra colleagues friendly with Andres, Julia?”
“Musicians rarely mingle with singers, or with stage directors. But I’ve told you that before.”
“Just double checking. But you are friends with that singer, Marin, yes?”
“We knew each other at the Met. But the way that theatre is set up makes it easier to meet other company members,” Julia said. “That’s not the case here.”
“Did you see what happened onstage in the scene between Andres and Mikko?”
“I don’t watch the stage. That’s my official statement.” Julia lowered her voice. “But just between us, I’ve played this opera many times at the Met, I know it inside out, and I do watch the action. So do other musicians who sit close to the outer edge of the pit wall. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I get the picture,” Taylor said. “Go on.”
“That scene shakes me up emotionally,” Julia said in a normal voice. “Believe me, I would have noticed if anything looked weird or different. I didn’t. Until, of course, Andres didn’t get up.”
“Duly noted.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. But since you know Marin, I thought you might question her for me and report back.” Taylor gazed around the crowded room. “I have a whole congregation waiting here.”
“I can do that.” Julia paused. “Just so you know, this second murder has really stressed me out.”
“I’m not surprised.” Taylor peered at her. “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”
“I admit I’ve been considering it. I’m sure you can imagine how Larry feels about my being involved, after this latest imbroglio.”
“Don’t you worry about Larry. I can talk to him. Cop to cop.”
“Thanks, Taylor, but this is my battle. He’s justifiable in his worry about how my involvement, especially with a second murder, will impact our little girl, Rebecca. I am, too. If I’m to stay on board, I’ll have to convince him how valuable I am to you.”
“If anyone can do that, you can, Julia. But I also understand your family concerns. Feel free to let me know if you need support.”
Julia rose, feeling torn. She was sure that aiding in the investigation was the right thing to do. Her innate curiosity, her compelling desire to help put the puzzle pieces together, was an important facet of her psyche; she could feel its power pulling at her.
On the flip side, thoughts of Larry and Rebecca heightened Julia’s agitation. Larry cared about his family’s safety. She understood why he was dead set against her being involved in the investigation.
Rebecca, Julia knew, felt the opposite. Granted, Becca was just a child. But Julia held a firm belief in the natural instincts of children. She was pondering this as she sat down next to Katie.
“What’s up, Jul?”
Julia felt grateful Katie knew her well enough to intuit that something was going on in her head. “I’m having this rush of clashing emotions, Katie. I feel guilty about opting to help with the investigation when Larry forbade me to. He’s anxious about Rebecca’s safety as well as my own. I get that. I’m her mom. But she believes in me, even if Larry doesn’t. I’d feel the same remorse whether I help or not. I’m between those two hard places, you know?”
“Therein lies the problem, Jul. No one can forbid you to do anything. You’re your own person. Do what feels right for you. Becca will be fine.” Katie rose. “I’m out of here. You coming?”
“Not yet. I want to collect my thoughts before I have to deal with Larry.”
“Smart plan.”
Watching Katie depart, Julia sat still and intoned a silent prayer for Larry’s forgiveness and understanding.
* * *
Cristina felt the antipathy emanating from Helene as they sat opposite each other. The little she knew about divas and drama queens stemmed from her relationships with a few opera-savvy friends. Her professional experience lay with hardened criminals, sex offenders, and drug dealers. But beneath Helene’s indifferent exterior, Cristina sensed fear and loathing in equal amounts.
Helene spoke first, preempting any question. “I have nothing to tell you, detective.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Cristina said. “And it’s ‘inspector’—if you don’t mind.”
“If you insist.”
Helene’s arrogant attitude put Cristina off, but it didn’t surprise her. She occasionally read in the San Francisco Classical Voice that opera singers—especially sopranos, who had to crank out those high notes every night—did not like to be messed with.
“Tell me about your relationship with Andres, Helene.”
“We had no relationship. We were total opposites, artistically and personally. I, an aristocrat. He, a peasant. There was no synchronicity between us. And no love lost.”
Cristina could see the disdain in Helene’s scowl and taste the venom in her assertion. “Then tell me about your rivalry.”
“That provincial bumpkin—” to Cristina, the word sounded overstated in Helene’s Teutonic accent—“wanted all the attention for himself. Always trying to steal the limelight. Humph.”
“Given the threatening letters he supposedly sent you, could you have fantasized something bad happening to him?”
Helene’s hesitation raised Cristina’s suspicions. “Fantasy is not reality, inspector. Yes, we were bitter enemies. But if I had entertained such fantasies, I would not have acted upon them. That is low-class behavior.”
“I see.”
“And the contentiousness between us gave us both extra, how do you say, ‘play’ from the press and the public. That kind of attention cannot be bought.”
“Thank you for your frankness,” Cristina said. “You’re done for now. But I may want to speak with you further.”
“As you wish,” Helene said and swept out of the room in true dramatic diva fashion.
After Helene had left, Cristina pondered the letters. Perhaps Andres had sent them; perhaps not. But with things as they stood at the moment, i.e., Andres unable to speak for himself, it seemed doubtful that the author of the threatening missives would become known anytime soon.
One thing was certain, however. Helene had compelling reasons for wanting Andres to disappear, not only from the opera scene but from the face of the earth. And perhaps opportunity as well.
Chapter Forty
Brünnhilde
In solchem Strauße streit’ ich nicht gern,
lieb ich auch muthiger Männer Schlacht
In discord like this I take no pleasure,
though sweet to me are men’s battles
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
Julia felt apprehensive about taking over Marin’s questioning, but it occurred to her that Taylor was testing Julia’s statement that some of the performers would open up to her. She and Marin were longtime friends, and she knew Taylor had an endless list of company members to interview. Since she had volunteered her help, it was time to deliver on her offer.
“Sure is echo-y in here.” Marin looked up at the sky-high ceiling and sank down in the chair opposite Julia at a table set up in a corner of the lobby. “Well, here I go. Again. I’d say it’s déjà vu, except this time, the interviewer is much easier on the eyes.”
“Gee, thanks. Can you text that to Larry? He’s terminally pissed at me about pretty much everything.”
Marin smiled. “I’m sure he is. But I’m proud of you for taking this on, Jul. A friendly face makes things easier. So, what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with which singers had issues with Andres.”
“None of them,” Marin said. “His PR machine made him the numero uno international opera star. Talk shows, benefits, CD signings. But from what I’ve heard, he was a puppy dog. All the singers liked him. Except Helene, of course. But I’m sure you know about their difficulties with each other.”
“Those menacing letters, for starters.”
“Right. That’s absurd. She was overreacting for the sake of escalating the media hype. She detested him because she thought he was stealing her thunder. It was about the jealousy.”
“But couldn’t that overreaction have goaded her into acting on her animosity toward him?”
Marin gave a low laugh. “Not bloody likely.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve worked with Helene in a slew of opera houses. I know what she’s capable or incapable of,” Marin said. “She may be a great singer and may have reigned at the Met as a Wagnerian, but I doubt she could come up with an elaborate scheme like the one that killed Andres.”
“Not even to hire someone to kill him?” Julia asked.
“Not a chance. She’s not terribly bright. In fact, she never learned to read music.” Marin lowered her voice. “That’s a well-kept secret, by the way. You didn’t hear it from me.”
“You keep saying that. What about Mikko?”
“Are you kidding? No one is less likely to have harmed Andres. They were best buds, trust me.”
“I do.” Julia remained unconvinced, but she didn’t want to reveal that to Marin. “We’ll see what Taylor thinks.”
“If he has a brain in his head, he’ll agree with me.”
“You’ve been helpful, Marin. Thanks.”
“No prob.” Marin spied James hovering in front of the bass bas-relief of Adler. “Want me to grab James? He can tell you more about what goes on between the singers than anyone.”
“Sure.”
“By the way, Jul, did you know he was the one who figured out Andres was dead?”
Julia nodded. “I saw him from the pit when he checked for Andres’s pulse.”
“Thought so.”
Marin rose, approached James, and gave him a nudge in Julia’s direction. He strode over to Julia and sat down. “I’m glad to see the SFPD is finally getting their act together, ‘Ms. Inspector.’”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I’m hardly worthy of the title.” Julia tried to keep her smile businesslike. “You were the first one to check out Andres?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Fricka
Du schufst ihm die Noth,
wie das neidliche Schwert.
You created in him the need,
as you did the vanquishing sword.
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
In the wings, Felicia and James helped Taylor and Cristina organize and divide their work of questioning company members who were involved in the rehearsal.
“Thank goodness the cast for this opera is small,” Felicia said. “One of you can speak with the musicians in their lounge. The other can use the pressroom for the additional company members.”
“That should work. I’ll take the musicians, Cristina. You take the others.” Taylor said. “This situation is a special case, Felicia, in that the cause of death might have been poisoning, as it was in the previous incident.”
“This kind of ‘M.O.,’ as we say in the business, could have been used by someone who was in the company but not in the cast or crew,” Cristina added.
“Does that mean you want to interview everyone in the company?”
“If it’s okay with you, Felicia, we’ll start with those who were directly involved.”
“Of course. Please follow me.” Felicia led the two inspectors to the stage and addressed the company members who were waiting there. “We are going to divide you into two groups. Pierre-Henri, all of the crew, come with Taylor, me, and the musicians,” she said, gesturing at Taylor. “The rest of you, follow Cristina to the pressroom.”
Luisa, onstage kneeling over the body, looked up at Felicia. “Given the nature of this piece of evidence, Felicia…” She gestured at the spear, wrapped in a collection of evidence bags. “…I think someone should speak to the person responsible for overseeing props.”
“That would be Richard, our Master of Properties.” Felicia turned to James. “Please call Richard and ask him to come to the musicians’ lounge as soon as possible.”
Luisa mouthed a “Thank you” to Felicia. Taylor and Cristina shepherded their operatic flocks to their respective hillocks.
* * *
Richard arrived at the lounge as Pierre-Henri and Mikko were explaining to Taylor how the staging with the spear plays out in the plot.
“Mikko plays the villain, Hunding, who murders Siegmund, played by…” Pierre-Henri paused. “…Our late colleague, Andres. By stabbing him in the chest with the spear.”
Taylor could see Mikko was shaken. He nodded toward the singer. “What can you tell me about this spear?”
“It’s…it’s sharp enough to look authentic onstage from the audience,” Mikko said. “But I could not have known that it had been…tampered with.” Mikko’s tears were causing his stage makeup to run in rivulets down his face. “Andres was my closest friend. No way would I have harmed him.”
Taylor thought Mikko’s protestations genuine; nonetheless, having spent some time at the opera house, he felt any opera singer could put on a convincing acting performance—on or offstage. And he couldn’t rule out a jealousy factor at play between the two singers.
A dark-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses appeared. “I can confirm that’s true. Mikko and Andres were like brothers.”
“And you are?” Taylor asked.
“Richard Keene, Master of Properties. I’m the one responsible for all the props.”
Taylor could see Richard was agitated. “Do you participate in creating them?”
“Often, yes.”
“And in this one?”
“I helped design it and sculpted the handle onto it. I try to make the props look as authentic as possible in the context of the opera stories.”
“What substance did you use for that?”
“It’s something called Green-Stuff 2-part Epoxy. Very commonly used in theatre productions. With some paint, the sculpt cleaned up nicely so the glue would not be visible.”
“Is this epoxy toxic?”
“Not generally, though we always wear masks when handling these kinds of materials.”
“What exactly was your task in handling the spear once it was made?”
“I inspect every property before handing it off to a singer or super. But there are so many props in this opera—swords, spears, and the like—it’s impossible to watch all of them at all times.”
“Who else has access to the prop room?” Taylor asked.
“It’s kept locked all the time, except when there’s a rehearsal or performance going on,” Richard said. “But during those times, it’s impractical to secure the props when we’re constantly going back and forth to take some out and bring others back. Which also makes it difficult for anyone who isn’t supposed to be there to sneak in unseen.”
“But it is possible for someone who works at the opera house to have crept in after hours and alter the spear without your knowing?”
“By ‘alter,’ you mean…?”
“According to the initial findings by our M.E., the spear might have had a poisonous substance affixed to the tip.”
“What?” Richard took a moment to process Taylor’s statement.
“Were you aware that Mikko’s spear might have been tampered with?”
“If the spear was tampered with, I should have known.” Richard frowned. “In which case, it was my fault. I wasn’t vigilant enough.”
“Sounds like you have a difficult job there. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Taylor said. “But would it be feasible that someone altered the spear without your knowing?”
“It’s possible, yes,” Richard said. “But I’m still the one in charge, the one who has to answer to everyone. And I’ve fallen short in my duties. You shouldn’t blame Mikko for anything. He is merely acting his part.” He shook his head. “Poison. My God.”
Taylor felt a frisson of sympathy for the Prop Master. “It isn’t necessarily your fault. From the looks of it, we may be dealing with a mastermind who will stop at nothing to accomplish whatever evil he or she is determined to perpetrate. The same one who might have poisoned Yves Chauvet. Even your constant vigilance might not have prevented this calamity.”
* * *
Once the crew and other company members had filed into the pressroom, Cristina lost no time in posing the hard questions to Felicia.
“As general director, I’m sure you must know the ins and outs of company relationships and conflicts,” Cristina said. “So, tell me. Who had it in for Andres?”
“Andres was popular. Everyone liked him,” Felicia replied. “Everyone but Helene, the singer who plays the all-important role of Brünnhilde.”
“Ah, yes. The one who accused Andres of sending her threatening letters.”
“That is correct. It now seems clear he was not the source of those letters.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Cristina said. “But whether or not he sent the letters, if Helene believed they came from Andres, it would explain her possible vendetta against him.”
Cristina looked around for Helene. It was not difficult to identify her. She was the only person in the room who was sitting alone—and looking unruffled.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fricka
Entzieh’ dem den Zauber, zerknick’ es dem Knecht!
Schutzlos find’ ihn der Feind’!
Then annihilate its magic, let its steel fall to pieces!
Let his enemies find him defenseless!
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
Despite her role in investigating Chauvet’s murder, Julia wasn’t taken aback when Taylor insisted on questioning her about Andres.
“Were you or any of your orchestra colleagues friendly with Andres, Julia?”
“Musicians rarely mingle with singers, or with stage directors. But I’ve told you that before.”
“Just double checking. But you are friends with that singer, Marin, yes?”
“We knew each other at the Met. But the way that theatre is set up makes it easier to meet other company members,” Julia said. “That’s not the case here.”
“Did you see what happened onstage in the scene between Andres and Mikko?”
“I don’t watch the stage. That’s my official statement.” Julia lowered her voice. “But just between us, I’ve played this opera many times at the Met, I know it inside out, and I do watch the action. So do other musicians who sit close to the outer edge of the pit wall. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I get the picture,” Taylor said. “Go on.”
“That scene shakes me up emotionally,” Julia said in a normal voice. “Believe me, I would have noticed if anything looked weird or different. I didn’t. Until, of course, Andres didn’t get up.”
“Duly noted.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not at the moment. But since you know Marin, I thought you might question her for me and report back.” Taylor gazed around the crowded room. “I have a whole congregation waiting here.”
“I can do that.” Julia paused. “Just so you know, this second murder has really stressed me out.”
“I’m not surprised.” Taylor peered at her. “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”
“I admit I’ve been considering it. I’m sure you can imagine how Larry feels about my being involved, after this latest imbroglio.”
“Don’t you worry about Larry. I can talk to him. Cop to cop.”
“Thanks, Taylor, but this is my battle. He’s justifiable in his worry about how my involvement, especially with a second murder, will impact our little girl, Rebecca. I am, too. If I’m to stay on board, I’ll have to convince him how valuable I am to you.”
“If anyone can do that, you can, Julia. But I also understand your family concerns. Feel free to let me know if you need support.”
Julia rose, feeling torn. She was sure that aiding in the investigation was the right thing to do. Her innate curiosity, her compelling desire to help put the puzzle pieces together, was an important facet of her psyche; she could feel its power pulling at her.
On the flip side, thoughts of Larry and Rebecca heightened Julia’s agitation. Larry cared about his family’s safety. She understood why he was dead set against her being involved in the investigation.
Rebecca, Julia knew, felt the opposite. Granted, Becca was just a child. But Julia held a firm belief in the natural instincts of children. She was pondering this as she sat down next to Katie.
“What’s up, Jul?”
Julia felt grateful Katie knew her well enough to intuit that something was going on in her head. “I’m having this rush of clashing emotions, Katie. I feel guilty about opting to help with the investigation when Larry forbade me to. He’s anxious about Rebecca’s safety as well as my own. I get that. I’m her mom. But she believes in me, even if Larry doesn’t. I’d feel the same remorse whether I help or not. I’m between those two hard places, you know?”
“Therein lies the problem, Jul. No one can forbid you to do anything. You’re your own person. Do what feels right for you. Becca will be fine.” Katie rose. “I’m out of here. You coming?”
“Not yet. I want to collect my thoughts before I have to deal with Larry.”
“Smart plan.”
Watching Katie depart, Julia sat still and intoned a silent prayer for Larry’s forgiveness and understanding.
* * *
Cristina felt the antipathy emanating from Helene as they sat opposite each other. The little she knew about divas and drama queens stemmed from her relationships with a few opera-savvy friends. Her professional experience lay with hardened criminals, sex offenders, and drug dealers. But beneath Helene’s indifferent exterior, Cristina sensed fear and loathing in equal amounts.
Helene spoke first, preempting any question. “I have nothing to tell you, detective.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Cristina said. “And it’s ‘inspector’—if you don’t mind.”
“If you insist.”
Helene’s arrogant attitude put Cristina off, but it didn’t surprise her. She occasionally read in the San Francisco Classical Voice that opera singers—especially sopranos, who had to crank out those high notes every night—did not like to be messed with.
“Tell me about your relationship with Andres, Helene.”
“We had no relationship. We were total opposites, artistically and personally. I, an aristocrat. He, a peasant. There was no synchronicity between us. And no love lost.”
Cristina could see the disdain in Helene’s scowl and taste the venom in her assertion. “Then tell me about your rivalry.”
“That provincial bumpkin—” to Cristina, the word sounded overstated in Helene’s Teutonic accent—“wanted all the attention for himself. Always trying to steal the limelight. Humph.”
“Given the threatening letters he supposedly sent you, could you have fantasized something bad happening to him?”
Helene’s hesitation raised Cristina’s suspicions. “Fantasy is not reality, inspector. Yes, we were bitter enemies. But if I had entertained such fantasies, I would not have acted upon them. That is low-class behavior.”
“I see.”
“And the contentiousness between us gave us both extra, how do you say, ‘play’ from the press and the public. That kind of attention cannot be bought.”
“Thank you for your frankness,” Cristina said. “You’re done for now. But I may want to speak with you further.”
“As you wish,” Helene said and swept out of the room in true dramatic diva fashion.
After Helene had left, Cristina pondered the letters. Perhaps Andres had sent them; perhaps not. But with things as they stood at the moment, i.e., Andres unable to speak for himself, it seemed doubtful that the author of the threatening missives would become known anytime soon.
One thing was certain, however. Helene had compelling reasons for wanting Andres to disappear, not only from the opera scene but from the face of the earth. And perhaps opportunity as well.
Chapter Forty
Brünnhilde
In solchem Strauße streit’ ich nicht gern,
lieb ich auch muthiger Männer Schlacht
In discord like this I take no pleasure,
though sweet to me are men’s battles
Wagner, Die Walküre, Act Two
Julia felt apprehensive about taking over Marin’s questioning, but it occurred to her that Taylor was testing Julia’s statement that some of the performers would open up to her. She and Marin were longtime friends, and she knew Taylor had an endless list of company members to interview. Since she had volunteered her help, it was time to deliver on her offer.
“Sure is echo-y in here.” Marin looked up at the sky-high ceiling and sank down in the chair opposite Julia at a table set up in a corner of the lobby. “Well, here I go. Again. I’d say it’s déjà vu, except this time, the interviewer is much easier on the eyes.”
“Gee, thanks. Can you text that to Larry? He’s terminally pissed at me about pretty much everything.”
Marin smiled. “I’m sure he is. But I’m proud of you for taking this on, Jul. A friendly face makes things easier. So, what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with which singers had issues with Andres.”
“None of them,” Marin said. “His PR machine made him the numero uno international opera star. Talk shows, benefits, CD signings. But from what I’ve heard, he was a puppy dog. All the singers liked him. Except Helene, of course. But I’m sure you know about their difficulties with each other.”
“Those menacing letters, for starters.”
“Right. That’s absurd. She was overreacting for the sake of escalating the media hype. She detested him because she thought he was stealing her thunder. It was about the jealousy.”
“But couldn’t that overreaction have goaded her into acting on her animosity toward him?”
Marin gave a low laugh. “Not bloody likely.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve worked with Helene in a slew of opera houses. I know what she’s capable or incapable of,” Marin said. “She may be a great singer and may have reigned at the Met as a Wagnerian, but I doubt she could come up with an elaborate scheme like the one that killed Andres.”
“Not even to hire someone to kill him?” Julia asked.
“Not a chance. She’s not terribly bright. In fact, she never learned to read music.” Marin lowered her voice. “That’s a well-kept secret, by the way. You didn’t hear it from me.”
“You keep saying that. What about Mikko?”
“Are you kidding? No one is less likely to have harmed Andres. They were best buds, trust me.”
“I do.” Julia remained unconvinced, but she didn’t want to reveal that to Marin. “We’ll see what Taylor thinks.”
“If he has a brain in his head, he’ll agree with me.”
“You’ve been helpful, Marin. Thanks.”
“No prob.” Marin spied James hovering in front of the bass bas-relief of Adler. “Want me to grab James? He can tell you more about what goes on between the singers than anyone.”
“Sure.”
“By the way, Jul, did you know he was the one who figured out Andres was dead?”
Julia nodded. “I saw him from the pit when he checked for Andres’s pulse.”
“Thought so.”
Marin rose, approached James, and gave him a nudge in Julia’s direction. He strode over to Julia and sat down. “I’m glad to see the SFPD is finally getting their act together, ‘Ms. Inspector.’”
“Thanks for the compliment, but I’m hardly worthy of the title.” Julia tried to keep her smile businesslike. “You were the first one to check out Andres?”
