Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [108]
Annabel laughed, too. “I hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but I think you’re right
They popped into the nearest luncheonette and found a vacant booth, where both ordered salads and iced tea. Genevieve, always verbose, was especially talkative this day, and entertained Annabel with a succession of stories about her life, first as an actress in London and Hollywood, and more recently her job with the Opera.
“…and finding supers for every production can be a bloody nightmare,” she said. “I have my own techniques.” A wicked laugh. “I haunt health clubs and gyms. I want my supers to be in good shape—so do most directors, and I try to accommodate. You might have noticed that many gays are particularly fond of opera. I’ve gotten some wonderful supers at the yearly Miss Adams Morgan Pageant. And, there’s always church
“Church?”
“I watch single men go up for Communion and make mental notes which ones would be good supers
“You’re a mobile talent scout, Genevieve
“I suppose I am. Of course, when children are involved it can be really dicey. Thank God for our volunteers who are willing to play backstage nanny. And the parents!” She rolled her eyes and made a dismissive sound through pursed lips. “Most are okay, but some can drive you mad. Like last year when I was providing supers for Die Walküre.”
“I saw that,” Annabel said. “Were there children in it?”
“No. I’m not talking about children anymore. These were adults. I went mad, absolutely tore my hair out trying to please the director. Gawd, he was impossible. But I came through
“You always do, it seems
“Yes, and I love it!”
“Have you spoken with Ray Pawkins lately?” Annabel asked.
“That darling man? As a matter of fact, I have. Yesterday. We’re grabbing a bite tonight before tech rehearsal
“Do I detect a budding romance?” Annabel asked.
“No, silly. We’re just good friends. How many men do you find in this city who love opera?”
Annabel thought of Mac. “Not many,” she said. “Does he ever talk about his life as a Homicide detective?”
Genevieve screwed up her face in thought. “Hmmm. No
“I’m fascinated with that famous case he investigated six years ago, the one involving the Ph.D. musicologist from Georgetown, Aaron Musinski
“Wasn’t that something? Everyone was buzzing about it
“And Ray never mentions it?”
“No. I asked him once about that case. He said that was then, and this is now. I understand
“Well, we’d better get back. The afternoon session will be starting
They were approaching the entrance to the building when Genevieve stopped Annabel. “What do you think of Ray, Annabel?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He certainly is…interesting. Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered if you or Mac have noticed anything unusual about him
Was this an opportunity to share with someone other than Mac what Josephson had claimed? She thought not.
“He seems very self-confident,” Annabel substituted.
“Yes, he is that. He seems to have two sides, two personalities. But maybe that’s what makes him so attractive. Forget I even asked. Let’s get inside.”
• • •
Speaking of Ray Pawkins.
He spent the rest of the morning at his home, music pouring from the speakers in his elaborate study, and through wireless ones he’d placed in other areas of the house—Verdi, Wagner, Mozart, and Strauss. The volume was loud, louder than even he was accustomed to. He paced from room to room, still in his robe and slippers, and sang along with the sopranos and tenors, stopping every now and then to gesture dramatically in a particularly strong or poignant section of the score. At times, he conducted the orchestra, holding an imaginary baton and urging the musicians to instill more spirit into their playing, pointing at the brass section for emphasis, lowering the volume with outstretched hands, palms down, nodding his head in approval at how they’d followed his directions. It was a fatiguing performance, and by the time lunchtime rolled around, he was bathed in sweat, and hungry. He showered and