Dead Certain

heard concerning me?”

Controversial he might be, Carol thought, but he looked very like the stereotype of an accountant. He wore a conservative charcoal-gray suit with a deep green silk tie, his brown hair was cut neatly short, and, apart from a thin white scar that zigzagged down one cheek, his face was unremarkable. His most notable feature was his voice, a deep resonant baritone that he swelled and faded like an instrument, although even short acquaintance with his vocal technique had begun to irritate Carol.

She said, “When was your last contact with Collis Raeburn?”

“Oh, I don’t know… a week before he died, probably.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “It surprises me you can’t be a little more exact. Sudden death generally sharpens memories of final meetings.”

“Of course I bow to your superior knowledge in these matters, Inspector, but frankly I’m very busy, I really can’t recall. My assistant may have the information in my appointment book…”

“If his death shouldn’t turn out to be suicide, would that surprise you?”

“Is there any doubt Collis killed himself?”

Countering with another question, Carol said, “Do you have any doubt?”

Livingston had kept very still up till this point, but now he began to run his fingers up and down the scar on his cheek. “Collis was an artist. Being unstable comes with the territory.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Seeming to force himself to appear relaxed, he leaned back in his chair as he made an open-handed gesture. “Inspector, I deal with these people every day of the week. To their adoring public they’re larger-than-life personalities with the world at their feet, but to me they’re children, demanding attention, showing off, wanting the limelight.”

Privately wondering how many cliches Edward Livingston could pack into one sentence, Carol said,

“Collis Raeburn certainly wasn’t lacking attention and limelight.”

“Yes, but that’s what drove him to success,” said Livingston almost smugly. “Collis was never, ever satisfied. He couldn’t have too much recognition-fame was like a drug to him. The more he got, the more he wanted.”

She didn’t let her impatience show, although she was convinced she was hearing a well-worn routine that Livingston had used many times before. “So why would he kill himself?” she said baldly.

Livingston pursed his lips judiciously. “Collis’s professional life was outstandingly successful. His personal life, however, was not.”

Carol waited.

“Inspector Ashton, you must appreciate that grand opera creates a hothouse atmosphere. Emotions, hatreds, passions-all exaggerated, larger than life. Alanna Brooks has partnered Collis for many years, and they were good friends. But then, a younger, and very talented, soprano appears on the scene…”

“Corinne Jawalski,” said Carol, obligingly filling in his pause.

“Corinne quite cold-bloodedly set out to have an affair with Collis, so that she could talk him into replacing Alanna with herself as his diva. Unfortunately, Collis fell for Corinne in a big way. Frankly, I tried to warn him, but he brushed me aside. I said she was just using him as a convenient way to leapfrog any rivals, but he was so besotted with her he was furious with me for criticizing her.”

“Would she be able to supplant Alanna Brooks so easily?”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, Corinne was sure of it, but it was unlikely, as I had the final say.”

“I got the impression that someone of Raeburn’s stature would have some clout…” She waited to see how he would respond.

His mouth tightened. “Wishful thinking, in most cases. I’m always willing to accommodate reasonable requests, but Alanna is a guaranteed draw-card-Corinne’s still on the way up, and she may never make it to the top. More than that, there’s a difference in voice quality. Corinne has a brilliant, light soprano, with a wide range and a beautiful top register-but it’s a young voice. Alanna’s voice is mature, although her range may have contracted slightly. But offsetting this is the rich palette of tonal qualities she has available.”

“Does this mean you would favor Alanna Brooks?”

The question seemed to irritate him. “Probably,” he snapped.

Carol said mildly, “So the choice of diva was a point of conflict between you and Mr. Raeburn?”

“That’s too strong,” he said emphatically. “I told you, Collis didn’t like the criticism, that’s all.”

As he was speaking, Carol saw Mark Bourke approaching. She introduced him to Livingston, who smiled briefly, then ostentatiously checked his watch. “Inspector, Sergeant-I really don’t have much time…”

Bourke unzipped a thin brown briefcase. “Mr. Livingston,” he said pleasantly, “I wonder if you’d care to comment on some financial matters.”

Livingston looked astonished. “Financial matters?”

“Also some legal undertakings,” said Bourke. “We understand you’d had preliminary talks with your lawyers about a possible attempt by Raeburn to break his contract with Eureka Opera, and, more specifically, the legal obligation he had to sing the lead in Welton’s Dingo.”

“These were mere administrative matters.” Livingston’s full baritone swelled with indignation.

“He was Eureka’s major star, wasn’t he?” When Livingston reluctantly nodded, Bourke went on, “I imagine if he left the company, you would find it a financial, as well as a professional, loss?”

“I imagine so.”

Carol said, “We’ve been told he was very unhappy about Graeme Welton’s new opera.”

“Collis was a singer,” Livingston snapped, “not a composer. He was in no position to judge the success or otherwise of Dingo.”

“Kenneth Raeburn told me the opera was, to quote him, an unmitigated disaster,” said Carol, curious to see what impact the mention of Collis’s father might have.

“Kenneth Raeburn,” Livingston sneered, “is a jumped-up little prick who had the good fortune to have a son who could sing. And he’s milked it for all it’s worth. Why don’t you have a look at his financial dealings? Think you’ll find he’s been taking Collis for a ride for years.”

Bourke consulted some papers. “Would it be true to say that Eureka is close to bankruptcy?”

“No, it would not! Grand opera’s a massively expensive business, Sergeant, that’s why companies need government and sponsorship support. Eureka’s no different from any other artistic or cultural body in Australia in that respect.”

“But wouldn’t a battle in the courts with one of your major stars not only be expensive in terms of legal costs, but also affect future corporate support for the company?”

Glaring at Bourke, Livingston said, “There wasn’t going to be a battle! I spoke to Collis and we settled our differences. He was quite happy to sing the lead in Dingo.”

Carol made sure she sounded politely skeptical. “So all your problems with Collis were resolved?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t seem to have told anyone else about your agreement on these matters.”

Livingston made an impatient gesture. “He would hardly have had time, Inspector. We spoke on the day he died.”

“This astonishes me a little,” said Carol, “since only a few minutes ago you couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to him. You thought it was a week or so ago…”

Livingston straightened his silk tie. “Frankly, Inspector, ” he said with a tight smile, “I’d hoped to avoid any discussion of this fight with Collis. I mean, it didn’t reflect well on him, and after the tragedy I thought it wrong to bring up something that had, with his death, become quite academic.”

“So it was a deliberate lie?”

“Well, if you want to put it in those terms, yes. But not one that did any harm, you understand.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Livingston. If, as you say, this major area of conflict had been resolved, then that would have some bearing on his state of mind.”

“Inspector Ashton, you must forgive me,” he said, his change of tone indicating he was hastily making amends. “I’m very sorry if I’ve misled you in any way.”

“When and where did you speak to Raeburn?”

Her cool tone seemed to subdue him. “During the afternoon. I’m not sure of the exact time, but it was here, in