“Is this about letting us get the hell out of here sometime soon?”
The musicians around her nodded their agreement.
“I’m afraid not. I have some more questions.”
She got to her feet. “I suppose you want to do this in private?”
“That was the idea.”
As they left the room, Pratt could see Ellis in a far corner speaking with Sofia Barna, the piccolo player who’d spent the previous night with Spadafini.
Both had their questions to ask, and hopefully, they’d get the answers they needed.
Twenty minutes later, Ellis and Pratt met to share the information the two women had given them.
Pratt said, “Now it just remains to talk to Mr. Browne and see what he has to say.”
“I’m ready,” Ellis said with a nod.
“No, you’re not. I want you to call the captain and tell him that we want those search warrants-and to step on it. Are you clear on everything?”
The young detective nodded.
“Good. You’ll find me with Browne in his office when you’re done.”
Ellis grinned. “He’ll be thrilled to see me.”
“No doubt.”
Pratt found the orchestra manager still with his boss. Neither of them looked happy.
“Any news, Detective?” both of them asked.
“We’ve made some progress on the huge list of suspects,” Pratt answered. “Mr. Browne, I take it you’re the person most familiar with the members of the orchestra?”
Browne nodded. “I should hope so.”
“Great. I need to discuss some of them with you. It will help greatly in getting us closer to the answers we’re all looking for. Maybe we could use your office to talk?”
Behind his desk, Norris’s face brightened. “Does that mean I might finally be able to go home?”
“Could you stay around just a little bit longer? I’ve asked one of my detectives to come in and take your statement, go over a few things. Is that all right?”
“I suppose it will have to do.”
The uniformed cop stationed outside Browne’s office was gone. Browne and Pratt went inside and made themselves comfortable. On the desk, beside a computer monitor and the phone, was a photo of a rather plain woman and two children, a boy and a girl who looked to be in their early teens.
“Nice-looking family,” Pratt said.
“Thanks.” Browne rested his arms on the desk and leaned forward confidently. “Now, what can I do for you, Detective Pratt?”
“You told me earlier you don’t have much day-to-day contact with members of the orchestra.”
“I said I don’t have time to attend most rehearsals. I am a very busy man. This organization would grind to a halt without me. Of course I had to make sure everyone knew the schedule for rehearsals and concerts. I had to-”
Pratt held up his hand. “Suffice it to say, though, that if anyone knew what was going on with the orchestra’s musicians, it would likely be you.”
Browne smiled. “Of course. It’s part of my job.”
“Obviously, you were also in daily contact with Spadafini.”
“When he was in town, yes.”
“So it’s safe to assume that you would have been aware of the goings-on between him and some of the orchestra’s female members.”
“If you’re referring to Annabelle Lee, I had no idea that anything was going on until she took her own life.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The expression on the orchestra manager’s face was confused. Then he flushed angrily as the comment sank in.
“What exactly are you trying to say, Detective?”
Pratt pretended to soothe him. “It’s natural that you would want to protect the organization’s most valuable asset. Keeping things running smoothly is part of your job, isn’t it? And so is loyalty.”
Browne leaned back in his chair. “I suppose I wasn’t completely forthright with you at the beginning, and for that I apologize.” He sighed heavily. “Sometimes I feel like the father confessor around here. I have to listen to the board’s complaints, the conductor’s, the soloists’, the guest conductors’, and always the musicians’. It gets pretty wearing. Everybody expects me to sort out their problems.”
“I understand completely. So what exactly did you know about Spadafini’s, ah, indiscretions?”
“Well…pretty much everything. A number of people in the orchestra, older women actually, complained about Spadafini’s carrying-on almost from the moment he arrived. I think they were bitter they couldn’t attract his attention, if you want to know the truth.”
Pratt chuckled. “I think I’ve met one of them.”
“Eliza Wanamaker?” When Pratt nodded, Browne added, “Damn woman thinks she’s the conscience of the orchestra.”
Someone knocked softly on the office door.
It was Ellis, as planned. “Sir, you wanted to see me?”
Pratt turned. “Yes. You take notes faster than I can, so come in here and take notes.”
Ellis sat on one of the chairs around a low table in a corner of the office, an informal meeting area. Crossing his legs, he pulled out his notebook. Pratt hoped he would play his part well.
The older detective continued, “So Spadafini confided in you?”
Browne noticeably swelled. “All the time.” Then he pursed his lips. “Luigi also constantly asked me to help clean up his little messes, as he called them.”
“Such as?”
Michael Browne considered for a moment. “I suppose it doesn’t make any difference now…Annabelle Lee gave me a letter to pass on to the orchestra’s board. It was after the last rehearsal she attended. She knew there was a board meeting the next day. On her way home, she jumped in front of the subway train.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I opened that letter. I, ah, never gave it to the board.”
Pratt leaned forward to speak. “What happened to it?”
“I gave it to Luigi and he tore it to shreds. Wouldn’t even look at it.”
“Just like the letter you told me she sent to him.”
Browne nodded. “Looking back, I guess it’s not my proudest moment.”
“What did it say?”
“She went on and on about how he’d seduced her, almost raped her after he took her out to dinner the first time. How he’d lied about his feelings for her. I don’t know if any of that was actually true, but she was obviously a very naive and hurt young woman. But what she was saying could have been very damaging for the orchestra.”
“Did she ever accompany Spadafini to a public function?”
“What?” A smile came over his face. “Oh, I see where you’re going with that. No. Everyone in the orchestra knew they were involved, just like that silly piccolo player he was boinking recently. There were a number of others in and out of the orchestra too, soloists, even an usher. Let’s just say he was an alpha male.”
“So you covered for Luigi Spadafini, smoothed the way for him over rough waters.”
Browne looked suddenly wary. “My job is to help make this orchestra run smoothly. Public scandals involving our conductor would not have been good for the orchestra. I did nothing illegal.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Spadafini?”
