by Joan Carter
“No. Why should I? What makes you think that I should?” His tone was suddenly much sharper.
“Oh, nothing at all,” said Imogen, aware that she seemed to have touched a raw spot. “As you say, let’s move on. I’d like to hear all about your plans. What exactly has brought you to Covent Garden?”
“I am here to discuss a new production of Manon. I can’t wait.” Frédéric’s tone was still guarded, but its edge had gone.
“That sounds marvellous,” said Imogen. “I love Massenet. Who have they lined up to sing Manon?”
*****
“He was lying,” said Imogen. Ned had arranged to meet her in a café not far from the restaurant where she had lunched with Frédéric, but en route to her office, as she needed to get back to finish a press release. Ned had wanted to check that nothing had happened to upset her at lunch.
“Why are you so sure?”
“It was just obvious. One minute all smiles, then so sharp when I asked him if he’d received any more letters. I’m absolutely convinced that he has, although I can’t fathom why he has to take back the copies he gave me. But if you’d seen how relaxed he became the instant I said I was giving up on them, and handed back the copies, then you’d know just how important it was to him to close the matter.”
“Presumably it’s to do with his relationship with Sophie.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Well, whatever. It’s done now. I think we should move on, as we said we would.”
“Agreed.”
“Let’s celebrate. I’m not working tonight.”
“Do you know, I feel like staying in. Just cooking something simple and watching the box.”
“Sounds ideal. I’ll shop on the way home and bring the stuff over to your flat later.”
*****
“That was a huge effort,” said Imogen, as they settled in front of the TV after eating dinner. “I don’t really think that beef en croûte with gratin dauphinoise and steamed vegetables in a white wine sauce fits into the simple category.”
“All we need to do is eat it, not define it,” said Ned. “Anyway, it goes so beautifully with this lovely red from Beaune.”
“Not many people choose the wine first, then the food to go with it. Anyway, well done. It was perfect.”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I know, but I’m trying to be nonchalant.”
*****
“Don’t kill me,” said Imogen, after they’d watched television for a few minutes, “but I can’t help thinking about Frédéric. Is it possible that I’ve misjudged him from the start? Recent events have made me think so.”
“I thought we weren’t going there anymore.”
“I know. But he gets the letters, Elodie is murdered, he asks me to help, then Sophie is on the scene and he wants the letters back. Plus he seems to be lying about receiving further letters. It’s so very odd.”
“That’s all true, but it’s not our business anymore.”
“I suppose so. I just wish we hadn’t shredded the copies of the letters. I’d love to have another go at them.”
“I was surprised you asked him if he’d received any more. What made you do that?”
“It was something instinctive. He was behaving oddly and, anyway, I’ve been on the trail for a while now, so I’m always looking for the next angle. It’s as well that you’ve shredded them, as it will prevent me from becoming involved again. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, probably.”
“Ned, you have shredded the letters, haven’t you?”
“Funny you should ask, because I haven’t quite got round to it yet.”
CHAPTER 22
“Guess where Tarquin’s going today?” said Sebastian, as Imogen entered the office the following morning.
“Tell me,” she replied, looking at Tarquin, who was strangely smart in a jacket and tie, with chinos that weren’t creased. There was even a possibility that he had brushed his hair.
“To interview Frédéric Junot,” announced Tarquin.
“Really?” said Imogen. “I had no idea about all this. When was it arranged?”
“I met him,” said Tarquin. “At a jazz concert last night. He was with friends at Pizza Express in Soho. It’s a great jazz venue. I go there a lot. Genevieve came with me. She’s a jazz fan, too.”
“Is she still here?” asked Imogen.
“Yes. My mum really loves her and she’s doing an art course now – that’s her subject. I recognised Frédéric and introduced myself, and got Genevieve to chat him up a bit. I reminded him about the offer of an interview and he said it had to be this morning because it’s the only clear spot he has in his schedule. I’m going to his hotel at 11am.”
“Well, you have struck lucky,” said Imogen. “I wonder if I should come along.”
“Why’s that, darling?” asked Sebastian.
“Well, it will be Tarquin’s first big interview and Frédéric is a very important contact.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” said Tarquin. “Anyway, he insisted that Genevieve should come along, so she can iron out any linguistic problems.”
“I see.”
“You seem a little peeved, Imogen,” said Sebastian.
“Not at all. It’s just that Frédéric is sort of my contact and I wouldn’t want any problems…”
“Don’t worry,” said Tarquin. “I won’t rub your favourite up the wrong way.”
“Make sure you’re suitably adulatory,” said Sebastian, “and all should be fine. These stars have huge egos.”
You should know, thought Imogen.
*****
“I’m not sure why I felt cross about it,” said Imogen, later. She and Ned were sharing a quick bite as he was going to be working late. “I suppose he was my contact and Tarquin was my protégé, and here they are going off together.”
“Leave them to it,” said Ned, laughing. “It is actually very kind of Frédéric, although I wouldn’t be surprised if Tarquin’s girlfriend had something to do with it.”
“In what way?”
“Well, he does, as we know, have an eye for the girls. He probably likes the idea of a jeune fille turning up to interview him.”
“Maybe. There is one thing I’ve been thinking about.”
“Which is?”
“I’d love to see Sophie. I’d like to talk to her and find out the truth. You know, when did she and Frédéric become an item? Was it going on all through the summer or before? Did she know about the letters – all that sort of thing.”
“Wow, that’s quite a list.”
“I know. Having made the decision to put it all behind us, I find it’s bugging me more than ever. It was having that meeting with Frédéric. The charm was there, the good looks, and yet behind it all there was almost fear.”
“I think it’s most probable that he wants to close a chapter and begin a new one.”
“Unless he found out who sent them and wants her protected.”
“You mean Sophie?”
“I was wondering.”
“Surely he wouldn’t want to be with her if he suspected her of sending the letters. And why would she still be sending them?”
“Well, I suppose so.”
“What about Juliette? It’s likely that she knows a lot more now. When you first spoke to her, news of the liaison was only just starting to come out. Have a chat with her.”
“That is actually a really good suggestion. I would mind becoming friends with her anyway – apart from all this business. You know how it is. Sometimes you just meet someone and feel you have a lot in common with them.”
“I admit to being puzzled as to what you and a young French apprentice opera si
nger have in common, but I get the bit about meeting someone and immediately feeling an affinity with them. It happened when I met you.”
“Well,” said Imogen, laughing, “it was at a dinner party, and if I remember correctly, quite a lot of claret had been drunk. I wonder whether that had anything to do with it.”
“It didn’t,” said Ned, looking at her intently. “Hey, I’ve got a very good idea.”
“What, again?” said Imogen, trying to lighten the tone a little. Ned ignored it.
“Why don’t you invite Juliette to supper one evening? It’s a much friendlier thing to do and I’d like to meet her.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Imogen. “As long as you’re not too keen to meet her. We can’t have you running off with a French mademoiselle.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Anyhow, I’d better get back.”
*****
“Is Tarquin not back yet?” asked Imogen, looking round as she entered the office.
“He rang to say that he’s staying for a sort of brunch stroke early lunch. Apparently, it’s all going swimmingly,” said Sebastian.
Oh,” said Imogen, not quite sure how she felt about that.
“Good thing you’re back, Imogen. “I need to get out to a business lunch. I mustn’t miss it and I’ve been holding the fort all this time.”
“You must be exhausted. I’m sure a gin and tonic will help to perk you up.”
“We’ll see. Anyhow, off I go. Seems a day’s work is never done.”
“You mean begun, not done,” muttered Imogen.
“Ah, look who’s here,” said Sebastian, as Tarquin walked into the office. “Well done, Tarquin, it all seems to have gone rather well.”
“It was great,” said Tarquin, who, for once, was quite animated.
“Right,” said Sebastian. “I’m off to lunch. A business lunch. But you can tell Imogen about it and she can extract the meatier points for me.”
“Well,” said Imogen to Tarquin, trying not to sound too put out. “You’ve obviously made quite a hit with Frédéric.”
Tarquin sat at his desk, took off his tie and undid his shirt collar button. Leaning backwards in his seat, he said, “It did go well, but to be honest, I think it was more to do with Genevieve. Frédéric took an enormous liking to her. He even suggested that they get together when they are in Paris.”
“What!” said Imogen.
“I didn’t really mind,” said Tarquin. “I found out an awful lot, and it really helped me to stand on my own two feet and try to do an interview. Even though it was Genevieve who really sparked things up.”
“Do you mean that Frédéric’s interest in Genevieve sparked things up or her interest in him sparked things up?”
“Well, it is true that she’s a bit of a flirt and she really knew how to handle him, as it were. He was laughing and chatty, and when Poitiers told him time was up he was reluctant to finish so we went on and had some coffee and sandwiches.”
“And has this put you off Genevieve, all this flirting?”
“Oh, no. I call it flirting, but it’s just being clever. She was only chatting him up to get as much info as possible. Also, I fancy her myself, so I can understand the attraction.” Tarquin laughed.
“You’re very grown up about it all, I must say,” said Imogen. “And did all this flirting elicit any interesting nuggets of info?”
“Well,” said Tarquin, “you may not find this interesting, but I did. He actually told Genevieve that Elodie, his partner, had been thinking of retiring.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He said that in the few weeks before they were due to sing Bohème together, they had quite a few arguments about it.”
“I’m amazed that he confided something so personal to you.”
“I told you that Genevieve had him eating out of her hand.”
“Did he tell you why they argued?”
“Well, he thought that she was really crazy. She wanted to stop singing and have babies. He said she found the pressure too much.”
“That’s really amazing. He never mentioned any of this to me. In fact, I think he told me that they never argued. Why was he against it? Did he say?”
“Genevieve asked him that. I think he’d have told her anything. Junot went on about the fact that Elodie was still young and had a wonderful career ahead of her. I got the feeling, however, that it was more to do with money than anything else.”
“Tarquin, you’re brilliant. Even if it’s Genevieve who extracted all this information, you’re the one who found her. I can’t tell you how interesting I find it all. Type it up this afternoon and email it to me. I’ll look over it this evening. Hopefully, it can go in as your first solo article, although we’ll have to give it an angle that differentiates it from the recent article we published about him.”
“That would be great.”
*****
“Juliette, hi, it’s Imogen. I would love to meet up again. I was wondering whether you would like to come over for supper one evening? I have a friend who is a very good cook, if that will tempt you,” said Imogen.
“Of course it will. I would love to come.”
“Do bring a partner, if you have one.”
“I will bring my friend, who is a répétiteur,” said Juliette. “He is actually my partner. He can give you lots of gossip about the industry.”
“Marvellous. Let’s fix a date and I’ll give you my address.”
*****
“She’s coming this Saturday,” said Imogen.
“Wow, three days’ time. Better get the cookbooks out,” said Ned. “Do you think we should go for something French, in honour of our guest, or should we strike out with something different to impress?”
“I don’t think she’ll mind,” said Imogen, laughing. “She’s terribly friendly. Anyway, we don’t know what nationality her boyfriend is.”
“Exactly. He could be Chinese. Or Peruvian.”
“Or even British.”
“Oh, no. That would be too boring. I don’t want le rosbif.”
“Stick to something simple, with a good wine. That’s always a winning formula.”
“You’re right. On this occasion, the wine will be terribly important, of course, as she’s French.”
“Are you saying that there are occasions where the wine isn’t terribly important?”
“Ahem. Not quite.”
“Perhaps of more importance now is that we need to eat and I want to tell you about Frédéric.”
“Ever resourceful, I have planned ahead. Just give me half an hour and chicken curry will be yours. Then, you can fill me in on Fred while we’re eating.”
“That’s perfect, as I want to read through these notes from Tarquin first.”
*****
“Voilà,” said Ned, as he placed a dish of chicken, and another of rice, on the table. “You really can’t complain about room service.”
“This is so odd,” said Imogen, without looking up.
“What’s so odd?”
“These notes of Tarquin’s.”
“In what way?”
“Well, I know it will sound funny, but it’s almost as if Frédéric’s sending a message.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I may be reading too much into what he’s said, but listen: ‘For me, Bohème is the most important opera. The key to everything lies in this one opera.’ Then: ‘For an understanding of what motivates people, you only have to look at La Bohème.’”
“I suppose it’s possible he really believes that,” said Ned, not sounding convinced.
“But how can he? Loads of other operas are concerned with what motivates people. Look at Tosca. Scarpia is motivated by power.”
/> “And lust.”
“Exactly,” said Imogen. “Then, Rigoletto. Love of his daughter is behind most of what he does.”
“Well, the man for the father/daughter relationship is Verdi, after all. Think of La Traviata. Yes, Violetta and Alfredo’s story could be said to be the main item, but old Germont comes to Paris to plead with Violetta because his daughter’s marriage is threatened. I love that bit.”
“To go back to our main point,” said Imogen. “All the anonymous letters we have seen make reference to La Bohème at some stage and here’s Frédéric pointing us in the same direction. At least, that’s what it seems like to me.”
“He might be saying what he really believes. La Bohème covers so many emotions. Love, jealousy, heartbreak. It does range widely,” said Ned.
“I just never know what he’s thinking. One minute he’s desperate to get the letters back and the next minute he gives Tarquin the chance of a very valuable interview, and seems to be sending all these messages about why one should look at La Bohème.”
“I can see what you mean,” said Ned, as he looked over the notes. “I quote: ‘I always return to La Bohème when I want to understand why things happen. One can read so much into the tragedy.’”
“Exactly. What’s he up to?”
“I don’t know what Junot’s up to, but I know what’s up for me.”
“Don’t tell me. Thai green curry.”
CHAPTER 23
“Quick, they’re here,” said Imogen, as the doorbell rang.
“Nearly done,” said Ned, piping the last of the cream onto a tarte aux pommes. “Just look. A work of art, truly.”
“Never mind that,” said Imogen. “Go and change. I’ll let them in.” She lifted the receiver for the intercom. “Hello,” she said.
“Hello. It’s Juliette.”
“Great. I’ll come down.”
*****
Imogen was relieved to find that by the time she had shepherded Juliette and her partner into the flat, Ned had changed and was waiting for her in the hall. He looked good, she thought, in dark grey flannel trousers and a pale green shirt. Conscious that it was Juliette whom they were entertaining, Imogen wore a pleated silk skirt in black and grey, with a black silk camisole. She had left her hair loose and was wearing a rather trendy (she hoped) crystal necklace. She was very impressed by Juliette’s boho look – a tartan silk skirt with a black cotton shirt that tied at the waist. Her hair was also somewhat tousled. Juliette’s partner looked quite the French intellectual, Imogen noted with amusement, as she took in his baggy grey cords, white shirt and dark blue sweater.