Deadly Overtures: A Music Lover's Mystery (9 page)

Chapter Nine

S
EVERAL MUSICIANS TRICKLED
into the lounge over the next few minutes. I hesitated by my locker, not sure if I should stick around and chat with my friends or go off in search of Elena. While part of me wanted to make sure she was okay after her encounter with the police—in case her unflappable demeanor was an act—I mostly wanted to know what the heck was going on. As usual, my curiosity got the upper hand, and I left all my belongings behind as I headed off on my search. Although I had trouble picturing Elena crying in a bathroom stall, I decided to check the nearest women’s washroom first, just in case. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find her there.

Not wanting to linger in the spot where Mikayla and I had found Pavlina’s body, I quickly retreated from the washroom and set off down the hall toward the back of the building. As I reached the foot of the stairway leading to the second floor, my search came to an end. Elena descended the stairs toward me, as cool and collected as ever. Whether or not the imposing detectives had instilled any anxiety beneath her haughty façade, I didn’t know, but if anyone could remain completely undaunted by them, it was Elena.

“Is everything all right?” I asked when she reached the foot of the stairs.

Her blue eyes rested on me for a second or two before she responded. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Not waiting for a response, she brushed past me and continued on toward the lounge.

I watched her go, wondering if I should follow her and see if I could get something more out of her. It only took me a fraction of a second to decide that would be a waste of time. Elena only ever shared what she wanted to share, and she wasn’t about to confide in me.

That didn’t put an end to my quest for information though. It wasn’t hard to guess why she’d been up on the second floor.

Jogging up the stairs, I turned to the left and followed another hallway until I reached Hans’s office. The door stood ajar, and the orchestra’s conductor was seated at his desk, his forehead furrowed and a frown on his face. He seemed lost in thought, and didn’t notice my presence until I tapped on the door frame.

“Midori.” He sat up straighter. “Come in.”

I stepped into the office and shut the door all but a crack behind me.

“What’s going on with Elena?” I asked without preamble.

Hans let out a sigh and sat back in his chair. “Nothing to worry about.”

I plunked myself down in a spare chair. “You look worried.”

He regarded me in silence for a moment or two before running a hand through his blond hair. “You’re right. I am worried. We can’t afford to lose our concertmaster, especially not right in the middle of the season.”

“Are we in danger of losing her?”

He hesitated, and I knew he was about to shut me out.

I jumped in before he had a chance to do that. “I know the police want to question her. I was there when they talked to her a few minutes ago. Does she know something about Pavlina’s death?”

Hans eyed the door, as if worried we might be overheard. He lowered his voice. “She swears she doesn’t.”

“And you believe her?”

“I do.”

“The police were asking about her cousin. Apparently he knew Pavlina.”

“Yes. Elena mentioned that.”

“I saw her talking to a guy here at the theater on Friday night and again on Tuesday night. Was that her cousin?”

“Probably. I never saw him, but Elena said he was here on the night of Pavlina’s death.”

“So do the police suspect him of killing Pavlina?”

“Perhaps. But even if they do suspect him, that doesn’t mean he’s the killer. It wouldn’t be the first time the police set their sights on the wrong person.”

I knew he was referring to the time he’d become the prime suspect in the murder of a cellist.

“If Elena does know something, if her cousin is the killer and she’s protecting him, the police will figure it out,” I said. “It would be better for her to come clean now. Better for her and for the orchestra.”

“I told her that,” Hans said, a note of weariness in his voice. “But she says she and her cousin are innocent.”

I mulled that over for a second or two. “Did she give any indication of why the police might suspect her cousin?”

“Apparently he and Pavlina dated briefly when they were in high school together in Toronto. Igor—that’s Elena’s cousin—tried to impress Pavlina by stealing a Porsche while they were on a date. Pavlina turned him in to the police.”

Ouch.

“Okay,” I said as I absorbed that information. “I can see how that would make him mad, but that must have been years ago. Why wait all this time to kill her? Was he in jail for the past several years?”

“Elena said he was a first offender and didn’t do much time. He’s been out for a good while.”

“Is this the first time they’ve crossed paths since high school?”

“I don’t know.” Hans ran a hand through his hair again. “The sooner we get this mess sorted out, the better.” He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk, his eyes on me. “You have a knack for ferreting out information.”

“And?” I said, sensing where he was headed.

“Maybe you can get to the bottom of this, or at least hurry things along so we can get the police out from under our feet.”

“And justice for Pavlina,” I added, not wanting the most important objective to be forgotten.

“Of course,” Hans said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“I know.” After a pause, I said, “So you’re saying you want me to solve the case?” I was surprised, although somewhat flattered that he thought I was capable of doing so.

“I’m saying maybe you can at least point the police in the right direction. You have an insider’s view of the behind-the-scenes workings of the orchestra and the competition. Plus, you’re observant.”

I appreciated that descriptor. I knew a few people who would have used the word “nosy” instead, perhaps not entirely unfairly.

“Somebody must know something,” Hans went on. “Maybe you can find out who that someone is.”

After considering that idea for a second or two, I replied, “I guess I can try.”

I’d already planned to ask a few questions anyway, and if there was potential for the orchestra to suffer as a result of a prolonged investigation, one that focused on Elena, then I wanted to do all I could to help the police wrap things up quickly.

“But if what I find out implicates Elena?” I asked, wondering how Hans would respond.

He let out a deep breath. “Then you’ll have to share that with the police. But I doubt that will turn out to be the case.”

I wanted to ask if he and Elena were back together after breaking things off in September, but I didn’t want Hans to think I was asking because I was still interested in him. Really, I only wanted to know out of curiosity. But this time my curiosity wasn’t enough to spur me on.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said instead. “I’d better go get my violin.”

Leaving Hans in his office, I returned to the musicians’ lounge, wondering who I should set my investigative sights on first. As I unpacked my instrument from its case, I kept an eye on the room around me, noting who was present and who wasn’t. Most of the orchestra had now arrived, but Elena was nowhere to be seen. Dongmei was in conversation with a clarinet player and a cellist, and Ethan Rogerson was perched on the arm of one of the couches, his attention focused on his smart phone.

Since I’d already spoken with Dongmei about the case, I decided to focus on Ethan for the moment. With my instrument case stashed back in my locker and my violin in hand, I crossed the room to stand next to him.

“Feeling nervous at all?” I asked.

“Huh?” He looked up from a game of Bejeweled Blitz.

“About tomorrow night,” I clarified. “Are you nervous?”

“Oh.” He exited the game. “Not really.”

I had a hard time believing that, but then I remembered that his ego wasn’t exactly small. Maybe he really was too confident to be nervous, or maybe he just wanted to maintain a confident veneer in front of his peers.

“I guess the competition isn’t quite as intense now that Pavlina’s gone,” I said, hoping to draw more out of him.

He snorted. “It wasn’t exactly intense to begin with.”

That sent my eyebrows up an inch. “You didn’t think Pavlina had a realistic chance of winning?”

“If she did, this competition is a bunch of bull. I mean, let’s face it, she was popular because she was a hot chick, not because there was any real genius to her music.”

My jaw almost dropped and I had to fight to keep an expression of distaste off my face. Pavlina’s music might not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but there was a brilliance to it, and I knew I was far from the only one who thought that her talent had exceeded Ethan’s. To suggest that her success was purely a result of her physical attractiveness was both unfair and detestable.

Ethan showed no sign of knowing what I was thinking, and maybe that was for the best. As much as I wanted to never speak to him again, I needed information from him.

“Do you have any idea who killed her?” I kept the question casual, as if it were the result of nothing but idle curiosity.

“Nope.”

“You didn’t see anyone backstage with her around the time she died?”

His gaze had been wandering around the room, but it now settled on me with suspicion. “How would I have done that?”

“I heard you left the audience during the concert. I thought maybe you might have seen something.”

“All I did was go to the washroom. The only person I saw on my way there was Olivia, and I didn’t see anyone on my way back.”

“Oh,” I said, feigning mild confusion. “I heard you were gone a long time.”

The suspicion in his eyes intensified. “My stomach gets upset when I’m nervous. What’s it to you, anyway?”

I shrugged and pretended I was losing interest in our conversation. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Well, curiosity can lead to trouble.”

With that, he shoved his phone in his pocket and walked away from me.

I watched him go, unease tickling the back of my neck. According to Dongmei, Ethan was gone from the audience for fifteen to twenty minutes. Sure, an upset stomach would explain the length of his absence, but that story didn’t make sense. If he wasn’t nervous now—the night before the performance of his composition—why would he have been so anxious last week during a concert that didn’t involve a performance of his music?

But the inconsistency in his story wasn’t the only thing that concerned me. As I returned to my locker to fetch my folder of music before heading to the stage, I noticed Ethan watching me from across the room. The weight of his gaze sent a hum of worry through my bones, and I wondered if his last words were meant as a threat.

Chapter Ten

D
URING THE FIRST
hour of rehearsal I had to struggle to keep my attention focused on the music. I was acutely aware of Ethan’s presence in the theater and the fact that he could be a murderer. He certainly had the opportunity to kill Pavlina, but what about motive? Did he really believe he had as much or more of a chance of winning the competition as Pavlina? Or was all his egotistical bluster a cover for a lack of self-confidence?

I couldn’t be sure, but if it was just a cover then maybe he had wanted to get Pavlina out of the way to improve his chances of winning. Recalling what he’d told me in the lounge, I realized that the same motive remained even if he truly did believe his composition skills were far superior to Pavlina’s. He was well aware of Pavlina’s popularity, after all, and maybe he believed she was likely to win regardless of what he viewed as her lack of talent. Perhaps he wanted to make way for the finalist who, in his mind, deserved to win—himself.

That was entirely possible, and it was enough to put Ethan on my list of suspects. I didn’t want to focus all of my attention on him, however. I needed to find out if anyone else had the opportunity to kill Pavlina. Jeb Hartson had only left the audience for a couple of minutes, but it was still possible that he’d killed Pavlina, swiftly carrying out the deed before retaking his seat in the theater. The remaining judges had alibis since they’d never left the audience, but others had been backstage at the relevant time, and I needed to look into their whereabouts and possible motives before I could definitively zero in on a prime suspect.

When Hans stopped the rehearsal for a short break, I considered who else I should question. Olivia Hutchcraft, the competition’s coordinator, had remained backstage during the concert. The same was true of her assistant, Sasha. And then there was Elena’s cousin, Igor Malakhov. I’d seen him in the hallway with Elena shortly before the concert began. Had he left the theater when Elena headed for the stage, or had he remained, lurking in the back corridors for some sinister purpose?

The police wanted to question Elena about Igor, and that suggested they had reason to believe he’d remained in the theater, that he’d had an opportunity to follow Pavlina to the women’s washroom and hit her over the head with Fred’s hammer, or whatever the murder weapon turned out to be.

As much as Hans believed Elena had nothing to do with the murder and knew nothing of significance about it, I wasn’t prepared to simply accept his belief. Both times I’d seen her talking with her cousin she’d been agitated. Maybe that agitation had nothing to do with Pavlina, but until I could rule that out, it was an avenue I intended to explore.

Not at the moment, however. I wasn’t going to question Elena in front of our fellow musicians—for her sake and mine—and there were other investigative opportunities more readily available at the moment.

Knowing I didn’t have much time before the rehearsal resumed, I left my seat and made my way through the wings to the back corridor. Although I was hoping to find Olivia and somehow strike up a conversation with her, I knew that might be difficult to do. She always seemed to be busy, hurrying to and fro or talking with one or more of the finalists. But as soon as I entered the corridor, I realized it would probably be far easier to talk to her assistant, Sasha, and see what he had to say. Luckily for me, he was hanging out in the hallway, leaning against the wall as he focused on the screen of his phone.

He was without a sweater vest today, but he still wore khaki pants, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his black hipster glasses. I guessed his age at about twenty-three, and he was cute in a slightly nerdy way.

With my violin and bow in one hand, I approached him, trying to appear casual.

“Hey,” I said when I reached him.

He glanced up from his phone for a split second. “Hey.”

Although his gaze returned to the screen of his device, I didn’t move and he soon looked up again.

I smiled, hoping to seem friendly. “You’re Olivia Hutchcraft’s assistant, right?”

“ ‘Gofer’ might be a better word, but, yeah.”

His eyes strayed toward his phone again, but I wasn’t about to let our conversation drop that easily.

“She keeps you busy?”

“Most of the time.”

I stepped closer to the wall so two clarinet players could pass us. “Have you worked for her for long?”

“Nah.” He finally gave up on his phone and tucked it into the back pocket of his pants. “Only a few weeks, and it’s a temporary position, seeing as this competition only happens once every couple of years.”

“Right.” That made sense. “Do you like the job?”

He shrugged. “It’s all right.”

I decided it was time to steer the conversation down the road I wanted it to go. “It’s probably been crazier than you expected, though, right?”

“Crazier?”

“Because of the murder,” I said.

“Oh. Right.” He glanced down the hallway, even though we were the only ones present.

With his attention threatening to stray again, I knew I couldn’t waste any time. “Hey, you must have been backstage during the concert that night.”

His eyes snapped back to me. “So?”

“Did you see anything suspicious?”

“No. I was upstairs during the first half of the concert. After that I went on a coffee run for Olivia. She has to have her half-fat mocha lattes.”

“I wonder if she regrets that now,” I said.

“Regrets what?”

“Sending you on a coffee run. If you weren’t with her, did she have an alibi?”

I had his undivided attention now. “Why would she need one?”

“Maybe she doesn’t. I just figured the police would be looking at everyone who was backstage as a possible suspect.”

“I don’t see why Olivia would want to kill Pavlina.”

That wasn’t clear to me either.

“How long were you gone on the coffee run?” I asked.

“Nearly half an hour, I guess. Starbucks was busy that night so I had to wait in line.”

That would have given Olivia plenty of time to murder Pavlina. Tucking that information away, I asked another question.

“Did you know Pavlina?”

His eyes narrowed slightly behind the lenses of his glasses. “You think I’m a suspect?”

“No,” I said quickly, although that wasn’t the truth. “I was just curious if you knew of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket. “I never knew any of these people before I started this job a few weeks ago.” He glanced at his phone and pushed off from the wall. He held up the device. “Gotta go. Duty calls.”

I didn’t know if he’d really received a text message summoning him to another part of the theater, but whether he’d told the truth or simply wanted to get away from me, our conversation was at an end.

“See you around,” he said, and then he was off around the corner and out of sight.

I wandered back toward the stage, thinking over what I’d learned. Sasha couldn’t vouch for Olivia’s whereabouts during the entire concert. That meant the competition’s coordinator was most likely without an alibi for at least part of the time after Pavlina left the audience.

Had Olivia purposely sent Sasha away so she’d have time to carry out a nefarious plan to murder Pavlina, or had she really just wanted some coffee?

If she had killed Pavlina, was jealousy the driving force behind the act?

I couldn’t see what other motive she would have. When I’d overheard her arguing with Jeb, she’d sounded more contemptuous than jealous, but that didn’t mean there was no envy lurking beneath the surface.

As for Sasha, did he have an opportunity to carry out the murder?

Possibly. He could have followed Pavlina to the women’s washroom and killed her either before or after he fetched Olivia’s coffee. Why he would do so wasn’t so easy to figure out, though. He’d said he hadn’t met any of the finalists before he started his job as Olivia’s assistant. If that were true, his motive would have had to develop over the last few weeks.

It was possible that he’d set his sights on Pavlina and she’d rejected him, igniting deep rage inside of him. But that was nothing more than pure speculation, and making up stories in my head about all the possible suspects wasn’t particularly constructive. If I wanted to help settle this matter and minimize any negative impact on the orchestra, I needed to work with facts and evidence. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of those, and that meant I needed to find a way to gather more.

For the moment, however, my only concerns needed to be of the musical variety. The rehearsal was about to resume and I didn’t want to be late getting back to my seat. Setting my investigation aside for the time being, I returned to the stage and shifted my focus from murder to music.