Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [47]
“Okay,” Berry said, “let’s start over, Mr. Warren. Tell me where you were the night your roommate, Ms. Lee, was killed
Warren looked at Kendall, who nodded.
Warren avoided Berry’s inquisitive eyes. “I was—I was at a piano recital that night
“Where?”
“The Kennedy Center
“You were at the Kennedy Center that night?”
“Yes
“You told Detective Johnson that you’d been out drinking with friends
“I know, I…”
“Why did you tell her that if it wasn’t true?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought it would sound better
Kendall’s eyebrows went up.
“Okay,” Berry said, “let’s get this straight. You weren’t out drinking that night but you were at a recital at the Kennedy Center. Sure that’s the truth?”
Warren nodded.
“What time was the recital?”
“Six, I think
“Where in the Kennedy Center?”
“The Millennium Stage
“What theater is that?”
“It’s not a theater. It’s a stage they set up in the lobby. They have performances just about every night there. It’s free
“Who was the pianist?”
“Boris Larkin
“What did he play?”
“I don’t know, different things, pieces from well-known operas
“Did you speak with him after the performance?”
“No
“What time did it end?”
“About seven thirty
“That’s pretty early. Did you see Ms. Lee at the Kennedy Center while you were there?”
“No
“What did you do after?”
“I had dinner
“Where?”
“A little Indian restaurant downtown
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember. I felt like Indian food and walked into the place. I never did catch the name
“You were alone?”
“Yes
“How did you pay?”
“Cash. I gave them cash
“They give you a receipt?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember
“And then?”
“Then I…then I went back to the apartment and watched TV
“Alone?”
“Yes
“I understand your agent is in town and staying at the apartment. Was he there?”
“No. I never saw him that night
The questioning lasted another fifteen minutes. Berry ended the session by saying, “We’ll be keeping your passport, Mr. Warren
“You can’t do that,” Warren almost shouted. “I’m a Canadian citizen!”
Kendall calmed his client and explained that he and the Canadian Consulate would work on his behalf to get the passport back. The attorney reminded Berry that he and his detectives were not to question his client again without his being present.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Berry assured. “You’re free to go, Mr. Warren, for the moment
After Kendall and Warren had left the building, Berry went to his office, where Sylvia Johnson had just arrived.
“What’s with Willie?” Berry asked.
“They’re keeping him overnight, but they ruled out a heart attack. The doctor read the riot act to Willie. His blood pressure is off the chart, and a test showed an enlarged heart.” She laughed. “They told him he has to eat a healthier diet, lose weight, exercise, the works. No more chili dogs, or pizza for breakfast
“He’s lucky. It’s a good warning
She asked about Warren, and Berry filled her in on how the questioning had gone.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think we should keep close tabs on Mr. Warren. In the meantime, let’s call it a day. You up for dinner?”
“Sure. And a drink. I’m off duty
“So am I. Come on, let’s hoist one for Willie.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When the rehearsal at the Kennedy Center was over, the director, Anthony Zambrano, assembled the supers for some last-minute comments, which quickly shifted into a discussion of Tosca and Zambrano’s vision of this particular production. Annabel had joined Mac on the stage, where he was sitting with his boss, GW’s president, Wilfred Burns, the other academicians-cum-supers, and Ray Pawkins in a semicircle around the director. It struck Mac that aside from him and his professorial colleagues, everyone else was well versed in Tosca and opera in general, and eager to display their knowledge. He felt a little out of it as Zambrano spoke in baroque terms about how he intended to break new ground and set a higher standard for future directors of the Puccini masterpiece.
“Is Tosca considered his best work?” Mac