The Angel Singers (7 page)

“Wow,” I said, “that was certainly generous of him. I remember how excited Jonathan was when he found out about it.”

“Indeed, it was, and regardless of his motives, I truly am grateful for everything he has done for the chorus. I believe he was instrumental in our getting Atheneum Hall for the concert—the editor of the
Journal
is a friend of his, and he has even arranged to have the concert covered by the paper’s entertainment editor. I only wish his motives were more altruistic.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I’m sure he intended the event to be a showcase for Grant. He very unsubtly suggested, when he mentioned that the
Journal
would be covering the concert, that it would be a good idea to give Grant a solo. I pointed out to him that this is, after all, a chorus, not a showcase for any one singer, and that the only number that has any significant solo component is ‘I Am What I Am,’ that I felt it was best sung by a bass and that Jim Bowers had the part.

“That might have silenced him, but it certainly didn’t silence Grant—especially after Jim’s accident. I might have had to give in to him despite my personal antipathy for Grant, who admittedly had a very good voice. But his death ruled that out, and I’m confident Jim will be well enough by the time of the concert to be able to perform.”

I found it hard to imagine that he couldn’t see the four-lane highway between Point A and Point B and realize, as Jonathan had suggested, that Grant was very probably responsible for Jim’s accident.

“I’ve been curious as to exactly what the relationship was between Grant and Crandall… Well, let me rephrase that, since I think any relatively intelligent primate could figure that out easily enough. What I meant was, how they got along out of bed.”

“I really don’t think it’s my place to say.”

“I disagree,” I said. “It’s important that I find out as much as I possibly can about the people involved. Every bit of information is like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle…” I realized as I said it how often I used that analogy, but true is true. “Some of the pieces may not fit, but a lot of them very well might, and one of them may be the key to the whole mystery.”

Rothenberger sighed. “I’d known Crandall as a member of the chorus’ board and been a guest at his home many times as well as seeing him regularly at all the chorus functions. Over the space of the five years since the chorus was formed, he has had a number of young men in his company—one supposed son of a college friend staying with him while he attended school, another the supposed son of an East Coast business associate and, lately, his dear nephew Grant. I really don’t know why he bothers with this charade, but he does.

“Anyway, I sensed in Grant a harder edge than most of his predecessors, and I was sure Crandall would not be able to dismiss him quite so easily as he had the others.

“Grant was also the first of Crandall’s charges to have an interest in singing, and when Crandall informed me he wanted Grant to be in the chorus—it was not put in the form of a request—I simply told him that Grant would have to audition like anyone else. Crandall was obviously less than pleased, but wisely chose not to make an issue of it. I did agree to have Grant audition here rather than before a regular rehearsal as is the normal procedure.

“When Grant arrived, I must say I was favorably impressed. He could be quite charming when it suited his purposes, and I was a bit surprised to find that he could actually sing! A very pleasant high baritone, which meant he could sing either tenor or baritone parts. So, while we really didn’t need either another baritone or another tenor at the moment, given Crandall’s dark cloud on the chorus’ horizon I didn’t want to alienate him. Besides, it never hurts to have a few more singers than the chorus really needs—spares, as it were.

“And sure enough, two weeks later one of our tenors had a job transfer out of state. I was going to put Grant in the tenor two section, but then Jonathan came along and we ended up with both.”

He paused, as if to give me a chance to say something, but I passed and he continued.

“Crandall never misses an opportunity to try to undermine my authority. His insistence on Grant’s accompanying him on his frequent weekend gambling jaunts to Las Vegas, despite knowing full well the importance I place on Saturday sectional rehearsals, was merely another way of goading me.

“And it didn’t take long after he joined before Grant began to show his own true colors—grandstanding, playing one member off against another, building his own little clique, making very unsubtle passes before, after, and sometimes during rehearsals. He especially seemed to target members he knew had partners. If he didn’t like a song, he would openly complain, or simply stand there and not sing it. He seemed to think that being ‘related’ to Crandall gave him special privileges, and when I made it clear to him that it did not, I started getting phone calls from Crandall.

“One of the more interesting involved the ridiculous accusation that I was being vindictive against Grant because he had rebuffed me after I’d made several passes at him. Whether that’s what Grant had told him or he was making it up, I have no way of knowing. I find it difficult to imagine Crandall didn’t know full well what Grant was up to.”

He shook his head, sighed and looked at me with a small smile. “Do I strike you as the kind of man who would be so stupid as to make passes at members of my own chorus?” He didn’t wait for a reply before saying, “And meanwhile, Grant’s little games were creating real hostility among some of the other members. While any group has its share of such problems, they had never approached this degree of disruption before.

“And for it to all happen now, while we’re preparing for probably the most important concert we’ve ever given, goes far beyond inconvenient. It’s disruptive, and the chorus inevitably suffers.”

“So,” I said when he came to another pause, “if you had to pick anyone from the chorus who might have harbored a particularly strong grudge against Grant, who do you think it might be?”

He thought a minute, then said, “I’m really not comfortable even remotely implicating anyone in something this serious.”

“We’re talking purely hypothetically here,” I said. “What name or names popped into your head when I asked the question?”

He gave me a small smile, “Other than my own?” he asked.

I grinned. “Please.”

“It’s really hard to say what might be going on in someone else’s head, but going only on actions, the most obvious would be Jerry Granville, Tony Breen’s former partner. I understand he’s noted for having a bad temper, and I really was quite concerned when he showed up at rehearsal. While part of me would have rather enjoyed seeing someone beat Grant senseless, I simply could not have allowed that to happen on my watch.

“Fortunately, Eric and some others stepped in to prevent a fight and I had to ask Jerry to leave. We certainly neither wanted nor needed a rather nasty scene.”

“Understood,” I said. “Anyone else that you can think of?”

He shook his head. “Not really. As I say, one never knows what someone else is thinking. There was one other incident, however, that disturbed me.

“I mentioned that Grant took pleasure in playing little games and sometimes they could verge on the cruel. One of our members, Barry Legget—like several other members, he also sings with the M.C.C. choir—is almost painfully shy when he is not singing. Maybe because of that, he’s one of the members in whom I took special interest and have tried to help along. He had an almost unbelievably painful childhood spent in foster care after his parents abandoned him. He even spent some time in a juvenile correctional facility.

“He has been with us about two years now and has been making real progress. I think he’s come to look on his fellow singers almost as the family he never had. And then along came Grant, who decided it would be fun to play cat-and-mouse with Barry, teasing him, enticing him, leading him on. I wouldn’t have known anything about it if it had not been for Eric, in whom Barry confided.

“It seems that Grant had been leading Barry on for nearly a month. Eric had noticed it, as had several of the other members. Then Grant asked him on a date. Barry was ecstatic but said nothing to anyone, and it’s good that he didn’t because Grant, not surprisingly, never showed up.

“He then approached Barry with some sort of excuse as to why he hadn’t called to cancel and proceeded to set up another date. For the second time, he never showed up and he never called.

“At the next rehearsal, one of the members of Grant’s little clique teased him about it, which means that Grant had to have shared his little joke with his inner circle and probably had a good laugh over it. Eric knew something was wrong and asked Barry about it. It was only then that Barry told him. And when Eric told me, I was furious. It was only with a good deal of effort that Eric and I were able to convince Barry not to quit the chorus.”

“Eric seems like a really nice guy and really committed to the chorus,” I observed.

Rothenberger shook his head slowly. “You have no idea. I truly consider Eric to be the cornerstone of the entire organization. I’ve known him since he was a child, and it in fact was he who was instrumental in encouraging me to form the group. I really think it is almost as much a part of his life as it is of mine. I think he, like Barry, sees the chorus as his surrogate family. And Eric keeps me posted on what’s going on with the members and things of which I might not otherwise be aware.”

“When was this incident with Barry?” I asked.

“A week or two before Grant was killed, actually.” He suddenly looked startled and said, “But that is purely coincidence, I’m sure. Barry is incapable of doing such a thing!”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, not at all sure, “but I was wondering if I could get the phone numbers and addresses of everyone in the chorus, in case I might need to contact any of them for any reason.”

“Of course,” he said.

*

On my way back to the office I remembered that Jonathan had mentioned Barry a couple of times as one of the chorus members he really liked and I had probably met him at Booth’s get-together, though I couldn’t remember. Jonathan hadn’t said anything about the incident between Barry and Grant, though, and I assumed he didn’t know about it.

One of the many things I love about Jonathan is his willingness to accept people and to always give them the benefit of the doubt. Nevertheless, I’m sure if he’d known of Grant’s cruelty toward Barry he would have mentioned it.

I made a note to check with both Barry and with Eric, who I was pretty sure knew everything that was going on in the chorus, to get their takes on the incident and to see how Barry had really felt about it.

But first, while I was out, I thought I’d swing by the address Sal had given me for the mechanic, Paul. I cursed myself for not having asked for his last name.

A sign stuck in the lawn outside the older four-story brick structure said “Furnished Apartment for Rent.” I walked up to the entrance and into the small foyer, checking the names on the buzzer plate—most of the slots were empty, but none of the ones that were there gave a first name Paul, or even the initial P. Well, since I was there, I thought I’d take a chance and I rang the one marked MANAGER.

About fifteen seconds later, looking through the glass-paneled inner door, I saw the first door on the right open, and a very thin man in a blue work shirt several times too large for him came to the door and opened it.

“Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly.

“I’m looking for one of your tenants,” I said, “and didn’t see him listed. His first name is Paul.”

“Jellen. Yeah. He’s gone.”

“I figured he was probably at work, but thought I’d—”

He interrupted me. “No, he’s gone. As in moved.”

That caught me by surprise. “When was this?”

“A week, maybe two. Told me one night he was leaving and the next day he was gone.”

“What about his furniture?” I asked. “His things?”

“All our apartments are furnished,” he said. “He didn’t have all that much to take. Left some food in the refrigerator and some stuff in the kitchen cupboards, but that’s it.”

“Did he say where he was going?” I asked.

“Tulsa. Said he got a job there.”

Tulsa? Why in the world would anyone move to Tulsa?
a mind-voice asked.

I chose to ignore it. “Any forwarding address?”

He shook his head. “Said for me to hold his mail and he’d send me his new address when he got settled. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Well, thanks for your time,” I said and, thoroughly puzzled, left.

I needed to have a talk with Crandall Booth.

Chapter 4

Though Booth owned several dealerships in the area, I knew he operated mainly out of Central Imports, so as soon as I got to the office, I called and was told Mr. Booth was out of town for a dealer’s conference and would be back the following Monday. I wondered idly if the conference might be in Tulsa.

At dinner that night, I asked Jonathan about Barry.

“I like him,” he said, which I’d already known. “He’s really quiet, and I think he’s had a pretty rough life. He never talks about it, but I can tell and it’s a real shame. And I think Grant did something really mean to him, though Barry never said anything. You met Barry at Mr. Booth’s, though you probably don’t remember with all those people. Anyway, I think it would be nice if we were to have him over for dinner sometime.”