Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [96]
“Maybe they gave her Coke instead of Pepsi,” Mac said.
Genevieve gently punched his arm.
Mac said, “Annabel and I have to run. That dinner I mentioned
“I’ll walk you out,” she said.
As they headed up the aisle, Pawkins fell into step with them.
“You’ll miss the best part,” he said cheerily. “The cover has real pastoso. She sings ‘Vissi d’arte’ better than the lead
“‘Pastoso’ is an Italian term for singers with a warm, mellow voice,” Genevieve translated for Mac and Annabel’s sake.
“Thanks,” Mac said. “Sounded like lunch
They reached the exit and stepped out into a night illuminated by a full moon. A lone taxi stood waiting at the curb across the street.
“I enjoyed that,” Annabel said. “I hope the soprano feels better
“She will,” Pawkins said. “But if she doesn’t, her cover will do just fine. I’ve heard her before. She’s wonderful
The cab did a U-turn and pulled up to them. Mac opened the back door and Annabel climbed in. As he started to join her, he asked Pawkins, “Will you be around tomorrow?”
“Plan to be. Why?”
“I may want to catch up with you
“Oh? What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing specific. I’ll call
As the cab pulled away and Mac gave the driver the name of the restaurant, Annabel said, “Okay, we’re alone. Tell me what this is all about
Mac gave her a thumbnail sketch of Josephson’s call. “The last thing he said to me was, ‘The scores are no longer missing.’”
“Wow!”
“I’m not sure what he means by it—whether he actually has them in his possession, or knows where they are. At any rate, I couldn’t resist taking him up on his suggestion to have dinner
“Of course not. Did you mention it to Ray?”
“I almost did a few times, but thought better of it. Let’s see what’s really going on before we do
The lower floor of Kinkead’s was bustling, elbow-to-elbow patrons at the bar, their conversations livened up by jazzy tunes from a spirited pianist. The restaurant had consistently been considered among Washington’s finest, a seafood mecca that always ranked high on reader polls. Josephson, who sat on a chair by the entrance, saw them, and got to his feet.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” he said, extending his hand. “How wonderful to see you again
Josephson was a slight man with a deeply lined, chiseled face, his sparse, unruly hair tinted a rusty red. He wore a tan, black, and pale green plaid sport jacket, a white shirt, and a small, Kelly-green, clip-on bow tie. He carried a large, bulging manila envelope with myriad scribbles on it.
“It’s our pleasure,” Mac said. “We have a table reserved upstairs. It’s less noisy there
Bob Kinkead, the owner and an old friend of Mac’s, greeted them at the top of the stairs and led them to a prime table. Once seated, and the initial exchange of pleasantries completed, Mac said, “I have to admit, Marc, your call came as quite a surprise
“I didn’t mean to call like that at the final minute before boarding my flight, but I’d been trying to summon the courage for some time now
Annabel laughed. “Summon courage to call Mac? He’s the most accessible person I know
“Oh, I can see that,” said Josephson. “I knew it the time we met at my shop in London. But this is—Well, how shall I say it? My reason for calling is a bit unusual. I’m here to ask a rather large favor
Mac thought for a moment, glanced at Annabel, and said, “A favor concerning the Mozart-Haydn musical scores?”
Josephson nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. He looked up, smiled at Annabel, and asked Mac, “You’ve told Annabel about it?”
“The little I know,” Mac said. “You said that—”
A waiter took their drink orders and left menus in front of them.
“Mac said that you told him the scores are no longer missing,” Annabel said.
“In a manner of speaking
Josephson’s response disappointed Mac. For some reason, he almost expected that Josephson would have the scores with him. What was in that full envelope he’d placed on the empty