Murder at the Opera - Margaret Truman [97]
“I’m not sure where to begin,” Josephson said.
“Why don’t we order,” Annabel suggested. “Let’s get that out of the way first
They shared a platter of fried clams—“The best Washington has to offer,” Mac said—and pepita-crusted salmon over a ragoût of crab, shrimp, corn, and chilies for the three of them. The drinks and the succulent food cast their comforting spell, and conversation touched upon everything except the missing scores. Finally, after coffee and crème brûlée, Annabel brought the topic back to the reason they were there in the first place. She was aware that Josephson was edgy. Although he willingly participated in the small talk during dinner, he fidgeted a great deal, and a tic on the left side of his face, not evident earlier, was now constant.
Josephson glanced about the room. Confident that he could speak without being overheard by others, he began to explain, a clearing of his throat preceding his lengthier comments.
“You see, when Aaron—he was a close friend and a colleague, of sorts—when he first told me of string quartets that had been written by Mozart in collaboration with his idol, Franz Joseph Haydn, I was naturally excited. I’d not heard of them before but had no reason to question Aaron’s belief that they existed. He was, after all, an acknowledged expert on Mozart and his works
“How had he learned of their existence?” Annabel asked.
“Through sources. He had many around the globe. Of course, there was also his disciplined academic research
“Why had he decided to work with you?” Mac asked. “Surely he could have sought the scores himself using his sources
Josephson smiled self-effacingly. “I have my sources, too,” he said, “in the world of rare manuscripts. Aaron felt that between us we stood a better chance of successfully finding the scores.” He looked at Mac, his eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my expertise in this area?” he asked.
“Of course not,” Mac said. “I just want to fully understand
“Well,” Josephson, said, “Aaron could be a generous man when it came to friends
Not from what I’ve heard, Mac thought.
“I read,” Mac said, “that you and Dr. Musinski found the manuscripts quite by accident, at a tag sale
“Where did you read that?” Josephson asked.
“An interview you gave to a British publication,” Mac replied, smiling. “The joys of the Internet
Josephson cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s precisely the way it happened. Life is funny. You work for months, years, seeking something, and there it is, right under your nose, in an unlikely place. Sheer good fortune
Annabel indicated she wasn’t aware of the story, and Josephson recounted it for her.
“Remarkable,” she said when he’d finished.
“It certainly was remarkable,” Josephson said. “I couldn’t contain my glee when Aaron and I left that yard sale and returned to my shop with the scores in hand. Aaron was—well, Aaron was more stoic than I. He was anxious to get back to Washington and start the authentication process in his laboratory at the university. That’s the last I saw of the scores, or of Aaron. Dreadful what happened to him. Such a cruel way to die. They’ve never found the murderer, have they?”
“No, but they might be getting close
Mac’s comment caused Josephson to straighten in his chair. A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Do you know who killed Aaron?” he asked.
“No,” Mac said, “but there might be new evidence that will help the police solve the case. But wait, we’ve come up to the point where Dr. Musinski returned to Washington with the scores and was killed. You told me on the phone that you’ve found the scores. We’re listening
Josephson drew a breath and sipped his coffee, which had gotten cold. Annabel ordered a fresh pot and Josephson continued.
“In the months after Aaron’s murder and the disappearance of the scores, I was in a state of shock. My friends were concerned for my health and well-being. I was numb. Not only had my friend and associate been cruelly killed, rare manuscripts worth a million dollars, perhaps more, had vanished. It took me years to gather my senses and decide to pursue