Inez glimpsed the word Sonaten on the copy Nico was waving around. He said with characteristic intensity, “First, adagio sostenuto.” He drew the words out in a slow, loving fashion, sweeping his sheet music across in a long arc. “And then presto! Presto! Presto!” The sheet music flapped energetically up and down.
“Yes, Nico, yes. I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” Welles’ voice held a trace of impatience.
“Passion, Thomas! Start and end with passion!” Coda completed, Nico turned to Inez and bowed. He abandoned Welles and strode toward her, expression and tone still intense from his fervent lecture. “Signora Stannert! I hoped to see you this morning. Come! Come! Sbrigati, please!” He hustled her toward the back of the store. As they passed Welles, Inez caught his gaze. The pianist rolled his eyes, just enough for her to see.
Nico almost pushed her into the office, exclaiming, “Ecco!” and slamming the door behind them.
Inez gaped. He has gone overboard this time. The office area was a veritable floral jungle, awash with flowers spilling out of vases on every available surface, their competing fragrances an olfactory jumble.
“Nico, what is this?” She had trouble forming a complete sentence.
“Before you left to give piano lessons and do whatever takes up so much of your time, I wanted to express my appreciation.” He was directing his stream of zeal toward her now. “These past few days, I have realized how much I have come to depend and count on you. Signor Welles, he is of course adequate, but he cannot replace you. He cannot!”
“Thank you. You are most kind.” And most unnerving. She had begun to contemplate whether it would be possible to bring Welles in permanently as assistant manager. That way, once she was legally half owner, she could devote more time to lessons and to cultivating her investments and extracurricular business arrangements.
“All this is…most beautiful.” She could not figure out what to say.
“It cannot begin to express the depth of the appreciation, the respect, the admiration I have for you!”
Things felt as if they were beginning to get out of hand. Inez took a step back and tried to inject a warm distance to her response. “Mr. Donato, I am overwhelmed by your generosity. I don’t know quite what to say. I am happy you appreciate the work I do on behalf of the business.”
“Furthermore, it is my sincere wish you will be my guest tonight at a recital Thomas and I are to give at the Palace Hotel.”
“Ah.” Inez frantically tried to form a plausible excuse that would allow her to stay in Nico’s good graces and not offend him.
He continued, “It will be…” He kissed his fingertips and gestured upward as if tossing glittering superlatives into the air. “The event is a private party, a soirée being given by a visitor to our fair city, Signore Phillip Poole. Thomas and I will perform the Kreutzer sonata. Beethoven, yes? And some Mozart. You will see, it will leave them all dazzled!”
At the mention of Poole’s name, Inez’s mind stopped searching for ways to escape and began racing. “Mr. Poole, you said?”
He beamed. “Sì! He heard me play and asked for a reprise! I told him rather than doing the same pieces with a quartet I would bring Signore Welles—who is a very accomplished classical pianist, not just a noodler of low-class ditties—and we would play something truly extraordinary. Beethoven’s Violin Sonata Number 9, Opus 47, the Kreutzer Sonata. He agreed.”
Phillip Poole. Father of the young woman in Leadville who had killed herself in despair over having been jilted by Jamie when he was in his previous incarnation as Robert Gallagher.
Phillip Poole. The one concrete murder suspect Inez had not had a chance to meet or evaluate. Yes, Flo was theoretically doing so, but still. Inez suspected once Flo had decided Poole was innocent, she had stopped digging.
This is my chance. Time is short. I will not have another opportunity to observe him or perhaps to even talk with him.
Shifting her approach, Inez cast her eyes down modestly and brought her fingers to her lips, as if thinking. “Oh, I am so honored! I would love to attend. My hesitation comes from being not entirely certain I have anything appropriate to wear.”
Nico seized her hand. “Whatever you wear, you will surpass the belle of Nob Hill and, indeed, the flowers themselves in grace and elegance.”
His touch sent an unexpected heat racing from her hand to the pit of her stomach. Alarmed and fearing she may have fanned a flame she had not intended to ignite, Inez slipped her hand from his eager grasp and said, “I suppose I could find something amongst the gowns I brought with me from Colorado.”
“Eccellente! I will pick you up at eight this evening and promise to have you back well before midnight. I know you do not like to leave Antonia alone long after dark. I promise you, it will be an evening to remember, Signora Stannert. And Phillip Poole is also from Colorado, you are—how do you say?—compatrioti. Compatriots! I will introduce you.”
“How serendipitous,” exclaimed Inez matching her enthusiasm to his. “But what I look forward to the most is seeing you perform. And Mr. Welles, of course.”
He beamed. “You will not be disappointed, I promise.”
She smiled back. I will make certain of that. With luck, I shall meet Mr. Poole myself and perhaps determine what part he had to play, if any, in Jamie’s death.
Chapter Thirty-four
Time was trickling away.
Inez could see it in her mind—an hourglass, with the preponderant amount of sand now weighting the bottom.
Gallagher would be back in a few days. Today was disappearing, and she had much to do.
First, see de Bruijn. She had promised both him and Antonia she would do so. While she was at the Palace Hotel, she would try to corner Flo and see what she had accomplished the previous day. If anything. Next, a quick trip to the waterfront, yet again, to find Broken-nose Sven
