Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [56]
“The name’s not Lee,” the man said. “That’s Betty’s name.” He indicated his wife.
“But—”
“Yeah, I know,” the father said. “It’s confusing. My name’s Seymour Goldberg. Charise decided Goldberg wasn’t a good name for an opera singer, so she took Betty’s name. I told her names don’t matter and that she should be proud of her real name, but you know how women can be
Berry glanced at Betty for a reaction and received a blank look. “It was a better name to use,” she said in a soft, flat voice.
“See what I mean?” Seymour said.
“Yeah, well, I am really sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances,” Berry said, “and I am very sorry about the death of your daughter
“Thank you,” Mrs. Lee-Goldberg said.
It was tea for her, coffees for the men, and Berry insisted upon a double order of English muffins to be shared.
“Have they asked you to identify the body yet?” the detective asked, wanting to get that question out of the way.
“We’re going later today,” Charise’s father replied. “Who did this to her?”
“We don’t know yet,” Berry said, “but we’re working hard to find out. I’m hoping you might have some information that will help us
“What could we know?” Goldberg said. “We live in Canada. Charise decided to come to Washington to study opera with the big names here. I didn’t want her to go, but—”
“It was her choice,” the mother said. “She said she would learn so much and become a better singer
“I admit I don’t know much about opera,” Berry said, “but I understand your daughter was a very talented young lady
“Yes, she was,” the mother agreed.
“She had the voice of an angel,” the father said. He placed his hand on top of his wife’s, and tears formed. Embarrassed, he wiped them away with the back of his other hand. “She got involved with the wrong people,” he declared.
“I’d be interested in hearing more about that,” Berry said, their drinks and muffins on the table.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it,” the mother said.
“Why not?” Goldberg said. “It’s true. I warned her about the sort of people who take advantage of talented young women like her. Those two agents got ahold of her and—”
“Mr. Melincamp?” Berry said.
“That’s right. Melincamp and that woman he works with
“Zöe something,” Berry said.
“That’s her,” Mr. Goldberg said.
“What about a piano player named Warren?” Berry asked.
“Christopher,” Betty Lee-Goldberg said. “He’s a nice young man
“I don’t agree,” her husband said, taking a bite of muffin and a sip of coffee heavily doctored with sugar and half-and-half.
“Oh?”
“He used her, Mr…. you said your name was?”
“Berry, Detective Carl Berry
“I’m sorry, Mr. Berry—Detective Berry—I don’t remember names that good anymore. Christopher Warren used Charise’s talent to make his own career better. I saw through him the minute I met him
“He accompanied Charise when she sang,” the mother said. “He’s a very good pianist
“Were they more than just friends and professional colleagues?” Berry asked.
“Meaning, did they sleep together?” Goldberg asked.
Berry nodded.
“I suppose they did,” the older man said. “I warned Charise about that. She was such a naïve young girl.” Tears again formed and he angrily rubbed them away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t believe this has happened. It wouldn’t have happened if she’d stayed home and not come here. She had a wonderful voice teacher in Toronto, but Warren and those agents convinced her to audition for the opera school here.” He hit the table with his fist. “And all that talk about saving the world. Her friends were full of that stupid talk. They sounded like Communists!”
“Communists?” Berry said.
“Radicals. Believe me, I know about such things. I lost people in the Holocaust. Family. Radicals! Like Hitler. I told her that if she wanted to save the world, she should become successful and be a good citizen, make money and give some to the poor. That’s the way to save