Deadly Overtures: A Music Lover's Mystery (6 page)

Van den Broek removed a notebook from the pocket of his suit jacket and flipped it open. “I understand that two of Ms. Nicolova’s fellow finalists are present this evening. He consulted his notebook. “Ms. Pan and Mr. Rogerson, is that correct?”

Hans stepped forward. “That’s right.” He gestured toward the theater seats where Dongmei and Ethan sat in the third row, waiting to hear the rehearsal of their compositions.

“We want to disrupt the rehearsal as little as possible, so whoever you don’t need here right at the moment . . .” Detective Van den Broek said.

Hans nodded. “We’ll be rehearsing Mr. Rogerson’s composition first.”

Van den Broek nodded, looking out into the theater. “Ms. Pan, will you please come with us?”

Dongmei stood up slowly, her eyes wide and terrified. She moved as if on autopilot, heading for the stairs that would take her to the wings of the stage.

“Thank you, Maestro Clausen,” Detective Van den Broek said. “We’ll let you get on with it now.”

Hans thanked the detectives and returned to his place at the conductor’s podium. Although he made some preliminary remarks about the piece we were about to rehearse, my attention was on Dongmei. The detectives had joined her in the wings and now headed backstage. As Dongmei turned to follow them, she looked as terrified as if she were being led off to the gallows.

Chapter Six

M
IDWAY THROUGH THE
rehearsal we wrapped up our work on Ethan’s composition and moved on to
The Crimson Night
, Dongmei’s piece. By then she’d returned from her time with the detectives and Ethan had gone off with them in her place. She conferred with Hans during the rehearsal process, and seemed able to focus, but she still appeared shaken and upset. I wondered if she was unsettled because someone she knew had been killed or if there was something more going on.

The possibility that she could be a suspect passed through my head, but I highly doubted she was the guilty party. Although I knew her sister better, I’d spent time with Dongmei now and then over the years. I didn’t think she’d hurt a fly, let alone cosh someone over the head, as I suspected the killer had done to Pavlina.

But whatever might have been going on with the murder investigation, I didn’t have much time to mull it over during the rehearsal. My thoughts attempted to stray a few times but I forced myself to focus on the music so I wouldn’t get lost or mess up my part. As soon as the rehearsal was over, however, my gaze zeroed in on Dongmei. After exchanging a few more words with Hans, she left the stage, and I hurried after her. She returned to the lounge and I kept an eye on her as I tucked my violin and bow safely away in my instrument case. Once the case was stored in my locker, I approached Dongmei as she shrugged into her coat.

“Hey,” I said as I put a hand on her arm to draw her attention. “How are you doing?”

Her eyes still held a touch of fear but she managed a hint of a smile before it faded away. “I’m all right, thanks.” Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it to stop the tremor.

I put an arm around her and led her to a quiet corner of the room. “Are you sure?”

She drew in a long, shuddering breath, and that seemed to steady her. “I’m okay—just a little shaken up by everything that’s happened. I’ve never known anyone who was murdered and I’ve never been interrogated by the police before.”

“Is that what they did? Interrogated you? Or did they just want to know if you’d seen anything suspicious the other night?”

“It felt like a bit of both,” she said. “They started out by asking me what I knew about Pavlina and what I’d seen on Friday, but then they asked me about my movements during the concert, and if I’d had any conflicts with Pavlina, if I saw her as my toughest competition.” She took in another deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I think they suspect me of killing Pavlina, Midori. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t kill anyone.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“I know that,” I said. “And the police will figure it out too, if they haven’t already. It’s their job to look at every angle and they don’t know anything about you, so they have to ask their questions. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“I hope so. They did back off a bit when I told them I was in the audience during the concert, from start to finish. If someone else can confirm that for them, I should be okay.”

“Then they’ve probably eliminated you as a suspect already, since they’ve spoken to Ethan too.”

A shadow of unease passed across Dongmei’s face. “Except Ethan wasn’t in the audience the entire time.”

My thoughts upped their tempo, each one scurrying over the next. I did my best to sort them out. “Do you know why Ethan left his seat?”

Dongmei shrugged. “I assumed he went to the washroom, but he was gone quite a while.”

“How long?”

She considered the question as she buttoned up her coat. “Maybe fifteen minutes. Probably not more than twenty.”

That was plenty enough time to follow Pavlina into the women’s washroom and bash her over the head. Of course, that scenario depended on another factor.

“What about Pavlina? Was she in her seat until Olivia fetched her and Sherwin near the end of the concert?”

“No,” Dongmei replied. “She left after her piece was performed and I never saw her again.”

That left a window of approximately one hour between the time when Pavlina left her seat and the moment when Mikayla and I found her body in the washroom.

“Did she leave before or after Ethan?” I asked.

“A few minutes before.” Dongmei glanced around and lowered her voice. “Do you think Ethan killed her?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds like he had the opportunity, if nothing else.” I remembered the unease I’d seen on her face moments earlier. “Do
you
think he killed her?”

Dongmei bit down on her lower lip. “I don’t know either. They didn’t like each other—I know that for sure—but that’s not enough reason for him to kill her.”

Perhaps not, but there was more to his possible motive than his dislike of Pavlina. She was also his competition. His toughest competition, if the rumors about Pavlina being the frontrunner were true. Even if the rumors weren’t true and the playing field was relatively level, Ethan might still have believed that Pavlina was more likely than him to capture the top prize. Of course, that could be said of all the other finalists. But, unlike Dongmei, Ethan didn’t have an alibi for the time of Pavlina’s death, unless someone was with him the entire time he was away from his seat and could vouch for him.

“What about Sherwin?” I asked, wondering if his whereabouts could be pinned down.

“He was in the audience the entire time, right up until Olivia came to get him at the end.”

So unless he had someone do the deed for him, Sherwin was innocent.

“Did you see anyone else from the audience head backstage during the concert?”

“Only Mr. Hartson. He disappeared between pieces, but only for a minute or two.”

I absorbed that information before asking, “What about the other judges?”

“They didn’t leave the audience until the concert was over. Anyway, why would a judge want to hurt Pavlina?”

That was a good question. Although it seemed Jeb Hartson was the only judge with an opportunity to commit the crime, and that window was a narrow one, according to Dongmei.

“I hope it wasn’t Ethan,” she whispered as two clarinet players passed us on their way out of the lounge. “It’s terrible to think of one of my fellow finalists doing something so awful.”

“It is terrible,” I agreed.

I didn’t add that it was disturbing to think that anyone connected to the competition or the orchestra could be a killer. My eyes swept over the room, conducting a quick scrutiny of everyone present. At least I knew my fellow musicians weren’t responsible for Pavlina’s death, not directly anyway. We’d all been on stage together when she was killed. That didn’t rule out the possibility of someone having an accomplice, but I didn’t know of any reason why someone in the orchestra would want to conspire with another person to kill Pavlina. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a reason, of course, but I figured it was best to focus on what I did know. And what I did know was that I needed to speak to Detectives Van den Broek and Chowdhury before I left the theater.

After saying good night to Dongmei, I wound my way around those still hanging out in the lounge, heading for the door. Once out in the hallway I went in search of the detectives, knowing I had some information to share with them. What I had to tell them might not be important, but as Detective Van den Broek had said, that was for them to decide, and I didn’t want to hold anything back in case it did turn out to be significant.

It didn’t take me long to track down the detectives. I found them standing on the stage, conferring with one another. They were the only ones present, all the chairs now empty, the music stands holding nothing save for the occasional forgotten pencil used for marking up music.

My footsteps caught the attention of the detectives and they broke off their conversation as they looked my way.

“My name’s Midori Bishop,” I said when I reached the two men. “My stand partner and I were the ones who found Pavlina’s body the other night.”

“Right,” Detective Chowdhury said, consulting his notebook. “We’ve read your statement.”

“Did you have something to add to it?” Detective Van den Broek asked.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “I don’t have any more information about finding Pavlina’s body, but there are some other things I thought you should know, since her death is no longer being considered an accident.”

Detective Van den Broek gestured to the nearest chair. I sat down as he pulled up another chair and produced his own notebook and pen from the pocket of his suit jacket. Detective Chowdhury also reached for another chair, but when his cell phone rang he abandoned the piece of furniture. As he answered the call, he nodded at his partner and headed off the stage, speaking in a low voice to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Did you know Ms. Nicolova well?” Detective Van den Broek asked as he flipped his notebook to a blank page.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t know her personally at all. I’d heard about her before, but I’d never actually seen her in person until the dress rehearsal the night before she was killed.”

Van den Broek made a short note. “So what was it you wanted to tell me?”

I did my best to order my thoughts. “You might have already heard this from someone else, but Pavlina and Ethan Rogerson didn’t like each other much.”

“What gave you that impression?” Neither his voice nor his expression indicated any particular interest in what I’d said.

“The way they spoke to each other backstage. They didn’t respect each other’s music, that’s for sure.”

“I suppose that’s not surprising,” the detective said. “They were each other’s competition, and big egos aren’t exactly a rarity among you musician types, are they?”

I bristled at his words, though they had some merit. “We aren’t all egotistical and self-centered, but no, such people aren’t a rarity in this profession, especially among the exceptionally talented ones.”

“Like the finalists in the competition.”

I nodded.

Detective Van den Broek flipped his notebook shut, his attention already drifting away from me. “Is that all?”

“No.” I tried not to grit my teeth together. The detective’s disinterest irked me, but I still felt obligated to share with him what I’d overheard the previous week. “It’s my understanding that Pavlina was involved with one of the competition’s judges, Jeb Hartson.”

“Involved?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Romantically.”

“I see,” the detective said, his voice still neutral. “And how did you find out about this?”

“I overheard a conversation between Jeb Hartson and Olivia Hutchcraft, the competition’s coordinator. Accidentally,” I hastened to add. “I gathered that Olivia had been involved with Jeb as well, at some point, and Jeb thought she was jealous. But she insisted that her concern was for the integrity of the competition.”

Van den Broek regarded me impassively for a moment. “If Mr. Hartson and Ms. Nicolova were indeed involved and Ms. Hutchcraft knew about it, wouldn’t Ms. Nicolova have been disqualified from the competition?”

“You’d think so,” I said. “But I was under the impression that Olivia had only recently come by that information. Maybe Pavlina would have been disqualified if she’d lived long enough.”

As I spoke, I had to quell a sense of growing frustration. All I was doing was attempting to help the police with their investigation, yet the detective seemed completely uninterested. Maybe the information I’d shared wasn’t relevant, but could he really be so sure of that already?

“Anything else?” Van den Broek flipped open his notebook and made a brief notation before shutting it again.

I battled the glower that wanted to take over my face, somehow managing to keep my expression neutral. “No. That’s all. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was going on behind the scenes, whether it turns out to be of importance or not.”

The detective stood up. “I appreciate that.”

He didn’t sound particularly appreciative.

“If you have any more information to share, please get in touch.” He handed me a business card, although he didn’t sound like he was at all eager to hear from me again.

“I’ll do that,” I said, a hint of a chill to my voice. I stood up and pocketed the card. “Good night, Detective.”

He didn’t offer any parting words in return.

As I left him on the stage and made my way back toward the musicians’ lounge, I silently cursed the circumstances that had led to Detectives Van den Broek and Chowdhury taking charge of Pavlina’s murder case. Detective Salnikova, who’d investigated two previous murders connected to the orchestra, was much more pleasant to deal with. Sure, she had an annoying habit of not answering my questions and she tended to get exasperated with me at times, but at least I never doubted her interest in the cases she was working. With Detective Van den Broek, I couldn’t tell if he cared at all about solving the crime or if he was simply going through the motions so he could get paid.

If it was the latter, would the murderer ever get caught or would he or she be free to roam among us indefinitely? I shuddered at the thought of possibly passing the killer in the hall, not knowing their dark secret. Perhaps the killer had followed Pavlina to the theater and had no connection to the competition or the Point Grey Philharmonic, but for some reason I found that hard to believe. After all, there must have been less populated places to do away with Pavlina than the theater. If the murder had been premeditated, then why carry it out here? And if it wasn’t premeditated, then how would anyone without a connection to the theater have ended up in the women’s washroom with Pavlina?

No, it was more likely than not that there was a connection.

As I passed by the closed door of a maintenance cupboard, my thoughts turned to Fred and his toolbox. If the blood on his hammer belonged to Pavlina, did that narrow the list of suspects at all?

I wondered how many people would have had access to Fred’s tools. Pausing in the hallway, I decided there was only one way to find out. Giving up on my plan to gather up my belongings and head home, I instead set off in search of Fred.

Considering the time of night, I didn’t know for sure if he would still be at the theater. I’d often spotted him working after rehearsals, but I’d remained at the theater longer than usual and didn’t know if he worked the same hours each day or not. I remembered hearing something about a judges’ meeting being held in one of the upstairs conference rooms, so I knew I wasn’t alone in the theater, but it felt like I was. Heavy silence hung over the corridor, broken only by the soft sound of my footfalls on the red carpeting.