Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [27]
“You have a partner?”
“Yes
“What hotel you staying at?”
“I’m not staying at a hotel. I’m staying here
Portelain raised his eyebrows for a sweep of the room. Melincamp grasped what the detective was thinking. “The couch,” he said. “Pulls out into a bed. Charise and Chris each have a bedroom back there.” He pointed to two closed doors off the living room. “Your colleagues—I suppose that’s what they’re called—were here last night and searched the bedrooms. They left a mess
“That so?” Portelain said. “Evidence techs are usually pretty neat. You can lodge a complaint
“I didn’t mean it that way
“Your partner staying here, too?”
“No. She prefers a hotel. There’s only room for one of us here
Willie’s feet and back were bothering him now and he decided the couch would have to do. He sank into it, struggled to come forward, and managed a position that wasn’t too uncomfortable. “What’s your partner’s name?” He asked.
“Zöe Baltsa
He wrote the name in his notebook, spelling it phonetically. “So, tell me, Mr. Melincamp, when was the last time you saw the deceased?”
“She may be dead,” the agent said, “but she still has a name. Ms. Lee, you mean
“Okay. Ms. Lee
Melincamp said, “I didn’t mean to offend
“Takes a lot to offend me,” Portelain said. “Been offended by the best offenders. When you see her last?”
“A week ago
“A week ago? You didn’t see her last night? Yesterday?”
“No. Zöe and I arrived yesterday with the intention to spend time with her. Chris was worried. Charise hadn’t shown up in class or for her costume fitting yesterday afternoon. I was worried, too. Looks like I had reason to be
Portelain thought for a moment about the questions he’d intended to ask. “Did Ms. Lee and her roommate, this guy Chris, have more of a relationship than just sharing an apartment?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, were they boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Melincamp guffawed. “Of course not. They were both focused on their careers. Chris aspires to become an accompanist for singers. He’s remarkably talented. Charise had the whole world in front of her. My God, what magnificent music came from that little girl. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years as a singer’s agent
“What about other guys? She must have had boyfriends
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Melincamp responded.
“Sure you would,” Portelain said. “Like you told me, a good agent gets to know his clients real well
“There are limits,” Melincamp said. “I don’t pry into their private lives
Portelain jotted nonsense in his notebook, not because he needed a written record of what was said, but because he was deciding where to next take the conversation. He looked up at Melincamp. “I’d like to see her bedroom,” he said.
“Why? They were all over it last night
“Indulge me,” said Portelain, getting up with an audible “Oomph
Melincamp pointed to one of the closed doors. “In there. That was her room
Portelain opened Ms. Lee’s bedroom door and observed without entering. It was a tiny space. A single twin bed took up one half. He noted that the bed was stripped, probably by the evidence techs, who would want the sheets and pillowcase for analysis. He stepped inside, and banged his shin against the bed’s footboard, eliciting a burst of four-letter words under his breath. A small, white dresser was against the wall. He opened its drawers. Empty. He turned and looked at the opposite wall, on which opera posters were attached with pushpins. He recognized one name, La Boheme.
“Anything else?” Melincamp asked from the doorway.
“No, that’s about it,” Portelain said. “I’d like to talk to your partner, and Mr. Warren.” He handed Melincamp his card. “Have them call me to set up an interview
“All right,” the agent said, “although I assure you, they know nothing that would be of help to you
Portelain ignored the disclaimer, thanked Melincamp for his time, and returned to his car, parked a half block away. He squeezed behind the wheel and made further notes before turning the ignition and pulling into traffic. It was almost eleven, which