Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [69]
“Ms. Baltsa, this is Sylvia Johnson, Washington MPD. My partner and I would like to talk with you
“I’ve been expecting you,” Baltsa said. “I meant to contact the police and offer to come there for an interview
“Well,” Johnson said, “we’ve saved you cab fare. May we come up?”
“Of course
“Is Mr. Melincamp with you?”
“As a matter of fact, he is
“We’ll want to interview each of you separately. Perhaps Mr. Melincamp has a few errands to run while we speak with you
Sylvia heard Baltsa pass along that message to Melincamp, who said, “Sure. Why not?”
They rode the elevator to the third floor, where Melincamp was waiting to ride downstairs.
“Hello there, Mr. Melincamp,” Willie said. “This is my partner, Detective Johnson
“Hello, Detective. How long do you want me to be gone?”
“An hour?” Johnson said.
“Sure
The room occupied by Zöe Baltsa was surprisingly large for a hotel, probably someone’s living room when the building was apartments. Red was everywhere, on the walls, in the carpet, on a floor-to-ceiling faux-leather headboard, on the bedding and velvet drapes. Soft mood lighting gave it the appearance of an elegant brothel from another era.
Sylvia pegged Baltsa as a woman who thought highly of herself and worked hard to maintain that self-image. The agent exuded sexuality, not in an obvious, glamorous way, but through a look in her eyes and the way she manipulated her full, red lips. She wore a pair of tight jeans, a lightweight orange sweater cut short to expose her bare midriff—it clashes with the red in the room, Sylvia thought—and sandals. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon, secured in back by what looked like a piece of American Indian jewelry. After introductions, she invited Willie and Sylvia to take the red love seat in front of the flat-screen TV.
“So,” she said, “I am glad to be able to talk with you. I can’t tell you how upsetting Charise’s brutal murder has been for me and for Philip. It’s like having lost a daughter. That’s how close we were
Had Sylvia and Willie spoken to each other at that moment, they would have said the same thing: Take everything this lady says with a grain of salt.
“I imagine it was quite a shock when you got the news,” Sylvia said, a notepad on her lap, pen in hand.
“To say the least,” Baltsa said, slowly shaking her head. “I mean, here she was, this immensely talented and beautiful young woman, in Washington to study with the best there is in the opera world, and to have some madman take her life and dreams from her in an instant. That’s what it had to be, a madman. No one in their right mind could do such a thing
Willie asked, “Where were you the night Ms. Lee was killed?”
“I was…Let me see. I believe I was right here at the hotel
“All night?”
“Most of it. I went out for dinner
“Where?”
“Oh, Lord, can I remember? Oh, yes, I had dinner at a lovely Thai restaurant. What’s the name? Oh, yes, Bua. It isn’t far from the hotel
“Were you with anyone?” Sylvia asked.
“No. I dined alone. Do you like Thai food?”
Sylvia shot a glance at Willie, whose expression said it all.
“Did you see Ms. Lee that night?” Sylvia asked.
“No,” Baltsa answered immediately.
“When did you arrive in D.C.?” Willie asked.
“On the afternoon of that fateful day. Tell me, have you made any progress in finding her murderer?”
“How come you didn’t get together with Ms. Lee?” Willie asked, ignoring her question. “Isn’t that why you came to D.C.?”
“Yes, of course it was. I—we couldn’t find her
“Nobody knew where she was?” Sylvia said.
“No. We checked with her roommate, Christopher Warren. He’s a pianist, another of our clients
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Willie said.
“He hadn’t seen her all day
“You flew in with your partner?”
“No. Philip came here the day before. He had some business at the opera that didn’t involve me
“He stays at the apartment Ms. Lee shares with the piano player
“That’s right
“How come he doesn’t stay here?”
“You’ll have to ask him.” Her nicely plucked eyebrows went up. “We’re not lovers,” she said. “We’re business partners, that’s all
Talk turned to the