Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [112]
“Very much
“So do I
The door closed behind him.
Back home, Pawkins rewound what had transpired.
Dillinger had been right. A gun and kindness got you further than a gun alone.
Of course, there had been plenty of kindness on his part, too. He’d committed a hundred grand to the little weasel. But that was okay. He had $350,000 left from Saibrón’s money, enough to fund his own idyllic retirement, along with Social Security and his MPD pension, which was pretty generous. Just as long as he didn’t have to lay out any more.
There was one problem left, however.
Mac and Annabel Smith.
• • •
“Hello?”
“Mac. It’s Marc Josephson
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” Smith said from his study in the Watergate apartment.
“I understand why you would assume that,” Josephson said. “I’m terribly sorry for my behavior this morning. I was upset and—”
“No apologies necessary,” Smith said.
“At any rate, Mac, I’m about to leave for the airport and a flight home. I just wanted you to know that the matter we discussed has been settled
“Oh?”
“Yes, and quite to my satisfaction
“I’m happy to hear that, but there is the matter of the murder of Dr. Musinski. I’m not sure that’s been settled
“Oh, it has, I assure you. Please, put the entire matter out of your mind. Much ado about nothing, as the Bard said. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing you and the lovely Mrs. Smith again, and I thank you for a splendid dinner and drinks afterward. I will be in touch. Do I owe you anything for your counsel?”
“Of course not
Except a better explanation, Mac thought.
“Well, then, cheerio, Mac. Until next time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
That night’s technical rehearsal at the Kennedy Center went well, with only minor lighting and sound miscues. The director, Anthony Zambrano, and his assistants functioned like a well-oiled machine. Even the two people recruited at the last minute by Genevieve Crier to replace Charise Lee and Christopher Warren as supers melded smoothly with the others. Mac Smith was helpful to them and took a certain pride at being an old hand at this supernumerary business.
But while Mac concentrated on where he was supposed to be, and what he was supposed to do under Zambrano’s watchful eye, his attention seldom strayed from Ray Pawkins. Nor did Annabel’s. She sat in the mostly empty theater with Genevieve and a few others from the Washington National Opera. At times, she sensed that Pawkins paid unusual attention to her, too, although she rationalized that her mind-set might be making her paranoid. Knowing something about someone, while they don’t know you know it, is always somehow absorbing.
Mac had filled her in on Josephson’s call and the message he’d delivered, that “the matter” had been settled to his “satisfaction
What does that mean? they’d conjectured over a fast dinner before the rehearsal.
“Do you think Ray paid him off?” Annabel asked.
“Could be, Annie. From the brief exposure we had with Josephson, it was obvious that money was what mattered most to him. The possibility that Ray murdered Musinski didn’t seem to be important. I encouraged him to go to the authorities, but he obviously decided not to
“Which leaves us in a quandary, Mac
They were about to explore that subject when old friends on their way out of the restaurant joined them at their table and talked until it was time to leave for the rehearsal.
Now, as Zambrano called it “a wrap” and everyone scattered, Mac ended up in the supers’ dressing room with Pawkins.
“I thought you were going to call me today,” the detective-super said offhandedly.
“I intended to, but the day got away from me
“What was the reason?”
“For the call? I don’t remember. Couldn’t have been important
Pawkins fixed him in a hard, probing stare.
Mac laughed. “No, I mean it,” he said. “I have no idea why I was going to call you. Maybe to further my education in opera
He was desperate to get Pawkins aside and ask him directly about his involvement