Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [43]
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There was a time in Mackensie Smith’s life that taking an afternoon off was anathema. Catching a movie matinee was out of the question, even when there was little to do in his law office on a given day. And to enjoy a sexual episode while the sun still shone was—well, the guilt associated with it wasn’t worth the pleasure. Not guilt for engaging in sex, but for doing it during working hours.
But he’d changed.
He and Annabel had returned to their Watergate apartment after the meeting at WNO’s administrative offices and thoroughly mangled the king-size bed they’d so carefully made up that morning. Sated, they made the bed again—both were committed neatniks—and enjoyed a postcoital glass of mango juice on the terrace.
“Do you know what I thought about while we were in bed?” she asked.
“Not me?”
“Of course you. But for a moment, I pictured myself as Delila in Samson and Delila.”
He grinned. “And I was Samson?”
“Yes
He placed his fingers on his receding hairline. “Is that what happened to my hair?” he asked. “You cut it off to rob me of my strength?”
“I had a little help from Mother Nature. By the way, Delila in the opera is pronounced Dah-lee-la, with the emphasis on the final ‘la.’ At least that’s how Saint-Saëns pronounced it
“I wouldn’t doubt it for a minute. So, what’s on our agenda for the rest of the day?”
“There’s the rehearsal at seven
“I almost succeeded in forgetting about that
“Which I would never let you do. I thought I might go up to Takoma Park and ask around about Charise Lee
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, to get a feel for how and why her murder might have happened
“Now, hold on a second,” he said, sitting taller and facing her directly. “Solving the young lady’s murder isn’t your business
“How can you say that?” she countered. “I think it’s everyone’s business. After all, I am on WNO’s board. We all have an obligation to do whatever we can to help find her killer
“Wrong,” he said, his finger stabbing the air for emphasis. “The police are responsible for that and—”
“And your Detective Pawkins
“Right. They’re pros, Annie. I’m sure that between them they’ll talk to anyone and everyone who might have something to offer. As for us, we’ve already done our duty. Pawkins is on the case because of you and me. Leave it at that
“And you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“You’ll be content to simply sit back and let the so-called pros do the job? What if we can come up with something that would be helpful to them?”
“If that happens by accident, fine. Aside from that, we have other things to worry about, like my classes and your gallery. And, of course, my debut as an opera star
“That’s right,” she said brightly, as though he’d made a revelatory statement. “Your debut. A star is born. I hope the paparazzi aren’t lurking downstairs
They left the terrace and went their separate ways, agreeing to meet up at the Kennedy Center at seven. He headed for his office at GW to catch up on paperwork, and she said she was going to her Georgetown gallery to do the same.
“You take the car,” he said. “I’ll walk
“Sure you can?” she asked wickedly.
As he headed off at a pace health fanatics would term a “power walk,” she climbed in their car in the parking garage beneath the Watergate and pulled out onto the street. But instead of going to Georgetown, she went up 16th Street toward Takoma Park and the Washington National Opera’s satellite facility. Although she