“We’ve found out a number of useful things. I have hopes.”
Pratt left them and walked down the hall a short distance. Outside Browne’s office, a uniformed cop was standing.
“Any problems with the locals?” Pratt asked.
“If you mean Browne, how about every ten minutes or so? Are you keeping him out of his office just to annoy him?”
“Maybe.”
The cop smiled. “Good. He’s a jackass.”
Pratt’s walkie-talkie had been turned off for nearly ten minutes, and as he took the elevator down one floor to the security desk, he listened to the wash of chatter. Seemed as if everyone wanted to talk to him.
“I’m at the security desk,” Pratt was saying as the elevator doors opened. “Sorry for being offline. Ellis-you there?”
Through a bit of crackle, Ellis said, “Live and in person.”
“Good. Do you know where the Green Room is?”
“I’m sitting in it right now.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be there shortly.”
The security guard was standing just inside the stage door, talking to the two cops guarding it.
Pratt motioned him over to his desk. “You were on all morning?”
“I came on duty at seven am.”
“James Norris, do you know him by sight?”
The guard snorted. “Of course. Been working here five years, haven’t I?”
“Did you see him arrive this morning?”
“I buzzed him in shortly before the orchestra started rehearsing.”
“When did he leave?”
“About fifteen minutes later. I let him out.”
“But he has a key.
“I suppose so. I’ve never seen him use it.”
“So he could have come back in again.”
“Why?”
Pratt wanted to throttle the man. “Let’s just say he did, okay?”
“Well, I’ve been here all morning, but I did my rounds starting at ten-oh-five and was gone for twelve, maybe fifteen minutes. I suppose he could have come back in.” The guard looked down at his cubicle. “But we’d have a video record of it, wouldn’t we?”
“Did the sergeant who was up here look through the security recordings?”
The guard nodded once.
“Did he look at the footage showing the stage door?”
Again the single nod. “I helped him.”
“And what did it show?”
“Nothing. The camera ain’t been working for a week. I’ve called in for a repairman and complained to Browne.”
Pratt heaved a sigh as he headed down the hall to the Green Room.
When he got there, Ellis was sitting on a sofa, legs crossed, while he scribbled madly in his notebook.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked when he looked up.
Pratt sat down heavily at the other end of the sofa, not bothering to correct him.
“Get anything interesting out of Harvey?”
“No. He has his cousin’s cello to keep it safe. She didn’t have a will, and her mother and father are fighting over it. I had no idea the darn things were that expensive!”
“What about his alibi?”
Ellis nodded and checked a page in his notebook. “Harvey was actually in full view of three other orchestra members for the entire break. We checked with each separately and they all had the same story. Here’s a theory. Do you think he may have had something to do with it? Maybe there were several people in on the murder. He supplied the cello string, someone else the timpani mallets and a third person did the deed. What do you think?”
“I suppose it could be something like that, but…I don’t think so.”
“You have some thoughts on how this thing went down?”
“I don’t want to lead you down the garden path.”
“What do you mean?”
“Being a good detective means sifting through a lot of evidence. It means keeping your eyes and mind open at all times. It means leaving no stone unturned. Do that, catch a little bit of luck, and you should get to the truth.”
“I know that.”
“You seem like a bright kid. I don’t want you getting wrong ideas on how this game is played.”
Ellis looked puzzled. “Sir?”
Pratt debated for a moment. This kid needed to go through the school of hard knocks if he had any hope of becoming a good detective. Acting on hunches was not part of that. It was risky, and you often wound up with egg on your face-or worse. This wasn’t the time to play fast and loose. Or was it? Everything about this case was out of the ordinary.
“Kid…sometimes, not always, you have to play a hunch, go with what you feel in your gut. Today might be one of those days.”
Unexpectedly, Ellis grinned. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
“Huh?”
“For the past half hour, I’ve been following up a hunch and uncovered some interesting information. I’ve been hesitant to tell you. They all say you play by the book.”
Pratt came to a decision. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking, and then I’ll do likewise.”
It surprised Pratt that Ellis had come to the same conclusions, but from a totally different starting point. Ellis had used technology. Pratt’s was based on observation and deduction.
“The only thing now is that we have to prove it or get the person to admit it,” Pratt said.
“I may be able to help there. Like I said, I’ve been doing some extra digging. I had to break a few rules though.”
Pratt’s expression tightened. “Meaning?”
“I, ah…Some of the information I got should have been accompanied by a search warrant.”
Ellis quickly sketched out what that information was.
“That’s always the sticking point in this racket. We’ll hold that information back and get the search warrants later.” Oddly, though, Pratt felt much better, more certain they were on the right track. “Now, here’s what I want you to do-and no improvising!”
They talked for a few more minutes, during which Ellis scribbled notes, nodding his understanding.
At the end, Pratt clapped Ellis on the shoulder. “Well, kid, either we’re going to kick this one through the goalposts-”
“Or they’re going to kick us to the street.”
“Something like that.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pratt walked into the rehearsal room with Ellis. The orchestra was still eating, and the smells of the sandwiches and salads made his stomach rumble. Everyone looked up at them with unfriendly eyes.
Eliza Wanamaker wasn’t hard to spot. She was surrounded by other musicians. It looked like a meeting.
Pratt walked over. “I’d like to speak with you again.”
