Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [55]
“Did you see the article on Ray Pawkins in Washingtonian?” Morris asked.
Berry laughed. “Yeah, I did. He always had a knack for self-promotion. I could never figure the guy. He was there the night they discovered the singer’s body at the Kennedy Center
“Was he? Why?”
“He’s an extra in the next opera they’re doing. He always loved that sort of thing. Oh, by the way, Pawkins is working for them
“Working for them?”
“He’s signed on as their PI
“To do what?”
“Catch the singer’s killer before we do
“I’ll be damned. That’s all we need, somebody working private and getting in the way
“I’m supposed to meet with him
“To do what?”
“Discuss the case
“The hell you are
“It can’t hurt
“We don’t discuss ongoing investigations, remember?”
“I know, Cole, I know, but maybe he’ll come up with something that will help us
“Or get something from us that’ll help him
“Let’s see how it plays out
“Suit yourself. Hey, Carl, speaking of Pawkins, there might be a break in the Musinski murder
“Musinski? The college professor at Georgetown U? How far back does that one go, five, six years?”
“Six. There was that graduate assistant at Georgetown who looked good, only we could never put enough together to charge him. Forensics might have linked him to the scene
“Took them long enough. They mention that case in the article on Ray
“We’ll want to talk to Pawkins at some point. He was lead on it
“I’ll mention it to him
“Yeah, do that. Be straight with me. Is Willie fit for duty?”
Berry nodded. “He says he is
“And you say?”
“I say that if he says he is, he is. He’s supposed to go on a diet
It got a fat laugh from Morris. “And the President’s press secretary will be candid at news conferences. Keep in touch
Charise Lee’s parents were staying at a downtown Holiday Inn on New Jersey Avenue. Berry went to the desk and asked for Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s room.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have anyone named Lee registered
“They’re from Toronto,” Berry said.
“I can’t check names on that basis,” the young male clerk said. “Sorry
Berry considered pulling out his badge and encouraging the clerk to do better, but decided he’d wait before pulling rank. He took a seat in the functionally furnished lobby and took in the comings and goings of hotel guests. Across the room he saw an older Caucasian man and much younger Asian woman sitting close together on an orange vinyl love seat. Could be, he said to himself as he crossed the lobby and stood over them. “Mr. and Mrs. Lee?” he asked.
His sudden appearance startled them. The woman, slender and wearing a simple dress made of a shiny black material, as black as her hair, quickly stood; the man remained seated.
“I’m sorry,” Berry said. “I’m looking for the parents of a Ms. Charise Lee and—”
“Yes, yes,” the woman said. “I am her mother
“Oh,” Berry said, introducing himself. “I checked with the desk and—”
The man stood. Berry pegged him to be in his early seventies. Bald on top, spigots of unruly black-and-gray hair poking out on the sides of his head, and tufts of hair protruding from surprisingly large ears. He needed a shave, and was slightly hunched, the posture of a man who’d stood bent over for too much of his life. He wore a wrinkled gray suit and a plain black tie whose knot did not meet his throat.
“I’m Charise’s father,” he said in a raspy voice.
He and Berry shook hands. Berry surveyed the lobby. “Maybe you’d rather we went to your room,” he suggested.
“Yeah, that’d be better,” the man said.
His wife looked at a sign pointing to the hotel’s lobby-level restaurant.
“Would you like to go in for something to eat?” Berry asked. “Coffee or tea, maybe?”
“We don’t have to eat,” the man said. “Maybe a cold drink
Berry saw that the restaurant was virtually empty. He motioned for them to follow as he went inside and told the hostess he needed a table for three, preferably