Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [115]
“Wilfred Burns, the president of GW, huh?” Willie said. “I don’t figure him for a killer
“Or the other supers on there from universities,” Berry said. “There’s also a half-dozen people from the opera company we haven’t talked to
“Who’s this Mackensie Smith?” Sylvia asked.
“One of the supers. Teaches law at GW. His wife’s listed there, too. She’s on the Opera board
“Ray Pawkins,” Sylvia muttered, still going over names.
“I’ve spoken with Ray a few times,” Berry said, “but we should do a formal interview, cover all the bases
“Cover all the butts, you mean,” growled Willie.
“If you say so. I’ve got others tracking them down. I want you to interview those two agents again, Melincamp and Baltsa
“What in hell for?” Willie said. “We’ve already questioned them twice
“Maybe the third time will be the charm,” Berry said.
“Does this have to do with that dispatch from Homeland Security?” Johnson asked.
“No,” Berry said. “I ran it by Cole. It’s strictly an FBI matter. Maybe if they lived here, we’d get involved, but not our job. You said they claim that the woman, Baltsa, took Ms. Lee in after her father had abused her. But Melincamp debates that. Right?”
“That’s what he said,” Johnson replied.
“And he lied about when he came to Washington. Right, Willie?”
“I don’t know if the dude actually lied. Maybe he got a little mixed up
“Yeah, well, getting a little mixed up in a murder investigation might mean something bigger. Check in with me this afternoon about the tickets, Sylvia
Johnson and Portelain first stopped at the Hotel Rouge. Their call to Zöe Baltsa’s room went unanswered. Willie asked the desk clerk whether he’d seen Baltsa that morning. Answer: no.
“Let’s try the apartment,” Sylvia suggested, heading for their car.
“Who’s there?” Melincamp asked through the intercom.
“Police,” Johnson said. “Detectives Johnson and Portelain
“Just a moment
Melincamp buzzed them in, and stood in the doorway to the apartment. He was dressed in a blue summer-weight suit, a blue-and-white checkered shirt, and a maroon tie.
“How are you?” Willie asked as they walked past Melincamp.
“I’m all right,” he answered, not sounding at all sure. “Why are you here?”
“Just checking back, that’s all,” Willie said, his eyes taking in the room, where two suitcases stood in a corner.
“Taking a trip?” Sylvia asked.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Melincamp said. “I’m going back to Toronto
“You and your partner?” Willie asked.
“No. I mean, she’s already left.” He wiped perspiration from his upper lip with the back of his hand.
“Is that so?” Willie said. “We just left the hotel. Nobody said she’d checked out
“She probably hasn’t yet. Her flight is later today. She’s probably running last-minute errands. I don’t know where she is. Look, I have to leave
Johnson ignored him. “The reason we’re here,” she said, “is to see whether you’ve had any additional thoughts about Ms. Lee’s murder, came up with anything you might not have told us the last time we spoke
Melincamp screwed up his face in exaggerated thought. “No,” he said, “I can’t think of anything. Maybe I should ask you the same question. Have you come up with anything new about her murder?”
“We’re making progress,” Willie said. He grunted, and swung his left arm in a circle.
“You okay?” Sylvia asked.
“Yeah, yeah, just some arthur-itus
“We’ve been going back over the notes of our previous conversations, Mr. Melincamp,” Johnson said, “and there’s a discrepancy we’d like to clear up
“A discrepancy? What do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, “when Detective Portelain first interviewed you—I believe it was here at the apartment—you said that you’d flown to Washington the day of the murder. But Ms. Baltsa said you came a day earlier than that
“She did? I don’t understand. What difference does it make when I arrived?”
“It could make a lot of difference. What did you do that first day in town?”
He forced a laugh. “How can I remember? There’s always so much to do, so many people to see
“Well, maybe you can try to remember,”