very close.’ He nodded. ‘I went to my seat, even though it was early. The ushers were used to seeing me at rehearsals, so they let me in. Helmut went backstage to change and take a look at the score.’
‘Excuse me, Signora, but I think I read in one of the papers that your husband was famous for conducting without a score.’
She smiled at this. ‘Oh, he did, he did. But he always kept one in the dressing room, and he’d look over it before the performance and during the intervals.’
‘Is that why he didn’t want to be interrupted during the intervals?’
‘Yes.’
‘You said you went backstage to speak to him last night.’ She said nothing, so he asked, ‘Was that normal?’
‘No; as I told you, he didn’t like anyone to talk to him during a performance. He said it destroyed his concentration. But last night, he asked me to go back after the second act.’
‘Was anyone with you when he asked you?’
Her voice took on a sharp edge. ‘Do you mean, do I have a witness that he asked me?’ Brunetti nodded. ‘No, Dottor Brunetti, I don’t have a witness. But I was surprised.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Helmut seldom did things that were . . . I’m not sure of the words to use . . . out of the ordinary. He seldom did things that were not part of his routine. So it surprised me that he asked me to go and see him during a performance.’
‘But you went?’
‘Yes, I went.’
‘Why did he want to see you?’
‘I don’t know. I met friends in the foyer, and I stopped to talk to them for a few minutes. I’d forgotten that during a performance, you can’t get backstage from the orchestra, that you have to go upstairs to the boxes. So by the time I finally got backstage and to his dressing room, the second bell was already ringing for the end of the interval.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
She hesitated a long time before she answered. ‘Yes, but not more than to say hello and ask him what he wanted to tell me. But then we heard—’ She paused here and stabbed out her cigarette. She took a long time doing this, moving the dead stump around and around in the ashtray. Finally, she dropped it and continued, though something had changed in her voice. ‘We heard the second bell. There was no time to speak. I said I’d see him after the performance, and I went back to my seat. I got there just as the lights were going down. I waited for the curtain to go up, for the performance to continue, but you know . . . you know what happened.’
‘Was that the first time you thought that anything was wrong?’
She reached for the package and pulled another cigarette from it. Brunetti took the lighter from the table and lit it for her. ‘Thank you,’ she said, blowing the smoke away from him.
‘And was that the first time you realized that something was wrong?’ he repeated.
‘Yes.’
‘In the last few weeks, had your husband’s behavior been different in any way?’ When she didn’t answer, he prompted: ‘Nervous, irritable in any way?’
‘I understood the question,’ she said shortly, then looked at him nervously and said, ‘I’m sorry.’
He decided it was better to remain silent than to acknowledge her apology.
She paused for a moment and then answered. ‘No, he seemed much the same as ever. He always loved
‘And the rehearsals went well? Peacefully?’
‘I’m not sure I understand that question.’
‘Did your husband have any difficulty with the other people engaged in the production?’
‘No, not that I know of,’ she answered after a short pause.
Brunetti decided it was time to bring his questions to a more personal level. He flipped a few pages in his notebook, glanced down at it, and asked, ‘Who is it that lives here, Signora?’
If she was surprised by the sudden change of subject, she gave no sign of it. ‘My husband and I and a maid who sleeps in.’
‘How long has she worked for you, this maid?’
‘She has worked for Helmut for about twenty years, I think. I met her only when we came to Venice for the first time.’
‘And when was that?’
‘Two years ago.’
‘Yes?’ he prodded.
‘She lives here in the apartment year round, while we’re away.’ Immediately she corrected herself: ‘While we were away.’
‘Her name?’
