Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [67]
It was over cappuccino and a platter of small cookies and fruit that Annabel brought up the Musinski murder of six years earlier. “I was fascinated to read that you were the lead on that case, Ray,” she said.
“All part of my illustrious past,” he said lightly.
“They never found those scores, did they?” Mac said.
“No” was Pawkins’ reply.
“Or arrest anyone,” Annabel said.
“They had a prime suspect,” Pawkins said casually, “a grad student at the university. We all knew he did it, but we could never come up with enough evidence to convince the prosecutors to charge him
“This grad student knew the deceased, Professor Musinski?” Mac asked.
“Oh, yeah, he sure did,” Pawkins said. “He worked closely with him as an assistant. We grilled him pretty hard, but he never broke
“Where is he now?” Annabel asked.
“Still at the university,” Pawkins said. “My MPD source says they might reopen the case based on new forensic evidence
“That’s good to hear,” Mac said. “Do you think this grad student killed the professor to get his hands on the musical scores? What were they—Mozart?”
“Musinski was a Mozart expert, wrote books about him and his music,” Pawkins said. “But his primary interest was some string quartets supposedly written with Joseph Haydn
“Supposedly?” Genevieve asked.
“No one’s ever seen them,” Pawkins said, leaning back in his seat and dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. “They only exist because Musinski’s niece claims her uncle said he’d brought them back from overseas a couple of days before he was murdered. Know what I think?”
“What?”
“I don’t think those musical scores ever existed in the first place
“Then why was Musinski killed?” Annabel asked. “The scores would provide the motive
Pawkins laughed. “Maybe the kid got a bad grade from the prof and decided to even the score. This was great, but I have to get going.” He reached for his wallet.
“On me,” Smith said, waving him away.
“Not on your life. My turn
“Yes, but this is Cafe Milano,” Mac said.
“That makes it more special for me to treat,” Pawkins said, pulling a credit card from his wallet and motioning for the waiter.
“What an unexpected surprise,” Genevieve said as they parted outside the restaurant. “Thank you so much
“Thank Mr. Pawkins here,” Mac said.
“Yes, thank you, Raymond,” Genevieve said.
“Come on,” Pawkins said to her, “I’ll drive you back to Takoma Park
At home in their Watergate apartment, Annabel said, “Mr. Pawkins does quite nicely on a retired detective’s salary
“I didn’t want him to pay,” Mac said, “but he seemed determined. Bad form to argue over it
“Did you notice what he was wearing?” Annabel asked as they dressed for bed.
“He carries clothes well,” Mac said.
“That suit came straight from Savile Row,” she said, “and those shoes were custom-made, too
“Maybe he won a lottery we don’t know about,” Mac suggested, “or had an unmarried rich uncle who died and left his fortune to his only nephew
“Maybe,” Annabel said. “I think Genevieve is smitten with him
“No
“Yes. I can sense it
“Not a bad match-up,” Mac said. “She’s attractive and a culture-vulture, and he’s not without his own brand of erudition. They both love opera. By the way, Zambrano told us the story of Tosca. He had this wonderful tale of when a soprano playing Tosca jumped to her death, landed on a trampoline, and bounced back up for the audience to see
“I’ve heard it,” Annabel said with a laugh. “That’s a staple. Opera is full of such stories, real or imagined. I think that’s why everyone thinks operas, and the people who perform them, are crazy
“Well,” he said, “I like the soprano bouncing off the trampoline. Should go over well with my students, a few of whom I’d like to bounce off a trampoline—or a brick wall
“Good night,” she said, kissing him sweetly on the lips.
“It’s early,” he said.
“Not for me,” she said. “Meetings exhaust me
The strains of Tosca drifted into the bedroom from the den where Mac had put on the CD. Annabel turned over, fluffed up her pillow, and fell asleep, a contented smile on her face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO