Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [66]
“You’re going with them?” Pawkins said to Genevieve.
“Of course
“Want a fourth?” Pawkins asked.
“Sure,” Mac said. “Why not? But if we don’t go now, it’ll be the three of us at a Burger King
He walked to his car, followed by Genevieve and Pawkins, who decided to go together in Pawkins’ car. Genevieve had to return to Takoma Park after dinner, and Pawkins said he’d be happy to drive her.
Cafe Milano, on Prospect Street in Georgetown, had replaced the Jockey Club as Washington’s prime celebrity gathering and gawking spot since opening in 1992. Its owner, Franco Nuschese, an acknowledged master host, was capable of making everyone feel famous and at home. That skill, plus superb northern Italian food, made it the hottest table in D.C.
Like all good hosts, Nuschese recognized Mac by name as he came through the door, despite Mac having been there only a few times before. “Ah, Mr. Smith,” he said, “it is good to see you again. The signora is waiting.” He threaded a passage through a knot of people three deep at the bar, to another dining room, away from the bar’s cacophony. Annabel sat alone at a table for four, set for two.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mac said, kissing her on the cheek and taking his seat. “The rehearsal ran long, and I was waylaid by Genevieve and Ray Pawkins on my way out
“I was getting worried,” she said.
“Genevieve and Ray are on their way. They’re joining us
“Oh?”
“Glad you landed a larger table. A prime one, I might add, away from the bar
“I mentioned to Bill Frazier that we wanted to have dinner here and he offered to make a call. Nothing like having the chairman of the Washington National Opera put in a good word
They’d just ordered drinks when Genevieve and Pawkins arrived.
“If I’d known I’d end up here tonight,” Genevieve said breathlessly, “I would have changed into something dishy. I felt like Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, Beatrix Potter’s matronly washerwoman, walking through that crowd at the bar
Pawkins chuckled. “I’d say you look like anything but a washerwoman
“Isn’t he sweet?” Genevieve said.
“Sweet’s my middle name,” Pawkins said.
“I love the Domingo Room,” Genevieve said, pointing in its direction. She referred to one of Cafe Milano’s private dining rooms, named after WNO’s general director. One night in 1996, shortly after Plácido Domingo had arrived in Washington, he stopped in to eat and suggested to the owner that a door be put on the entrance to a private room to cut down on noise from the bar. When he returned the next night, the door was up and the room renamed the Domingo Room. A few years later, Nuschese commissioned a Russian artist to create a ten-foot painting on the room’s ceiling of Domingo in costume as Verdi’s Otello. The maestro has looked down on all who dine there ever since.
Over a large platter of beef and spiny lobster carpaccio with baby arugula and apple citronette sauce, accompanied by a bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva, Podere Tereno, talk eventually came around to the Charise Lee murder. Naturally, most questions were directed at Pawkins.
“Is there any progress?” Annabel asked.
“Nothing yet,” he replied. Had he still been with MPD, discussing an ongoing case would have been off-limits—officially. But like most cops he knew, that rule was frequently ignored. Besides, those sharing the table with him this evening were, after all, his clients. “I’m in touch with a contact at MPD. They’re looking closely at her roommate, a pianist from Toronto named Christopher Warren. They’re also questioning every student in the Young Artist Program, and a couple of agents from Toronto who represented the victim and Warren
“Christopher called in sick today,” Genevieve said. “He said he couldn’t make tonight’s rehearsal
“Maybe you’d better get a sub for him,” Annabel offered.
“That’s a good idea,” Genevieve said.
“No it’s not,” Pawkins said. “Let’s keep him close. I might learn something from him
“It couldn’t have been him,” Genevieve said, wrapping her arms about her as though the AC had suddenly been turned up. “He’s a lovely boy
“That may be,” Pawkins said, “but MPD