Classical Murder

by Joan Carter

“It’s quite a departure from your previous works,” said Imogen. “They almost verge on non-fiction.”

  “Not really, if you read them carefully.”

  Oops, thought Imogen.

  “They always have the thread of a story,” continued Sabine, “but I agree that the philosophical will be less evident in this work.”

  “I wish you luck with it… and I can’t wait to read it,” she added, her tongue firmly in her cheek.

  “Well, you will have to wait, I am afraid,” said Sabine, laughing. “It will take me two or three years to write the book. I have many threads to weave.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” said Imogen.

  “Would you like another coffee?” said Sabine. “Or shall we stroll some more?”

  “I’m very happy to stroll,” said Imogen.

  “Let’s work out how much time we have, and where we need to be at the end of our walk, and I will plan a little tour,” said Sabine.

  *****

  “Blimey,” said Ned, as he and Imogen sat having coffee while they waited for James, who had gone back to his flat to collect a book for Ned. “Remind me not to read that book. It sounds utterly dreadful. In fact, surely no one will read it? A sort of murder stroke philosophical treatise is hardly your average whodunit.”

  “I know, but you disappoint me. I was hoping to get you a copy for Christmas in three years’ time.”

  “I’m hoping you will have forgotten all about it by then.”

  “But you are ignoring the crucial question. Is she trying to tell me, or someone, something? I mean, sort of confess – baring her soul?”

  “Could be, how interesting. Although if she is, she’s going about it in a very funny way. I thought that if you wanted to tell someone something, you told them rather than hide it in a book of philosophical posturing. Anyway, she didn’t go out with Frédéric, did she? I thought she was married to Paul.”

  “I wonder whether it’s a subtle way of accusing someone. There are an awful lot of back stories here.”

  “Do you think she’s confessing? And trying to share the burden?”

  “That would be pretty stupid.”

  “Love can do funny things to people.”

  “I just feel she’s trying to signal something and that it could be important. I wish I could work out what. I feel I’m missing something.”

  “Well, I feel signals from my stomach that tell me I’m hungry. Look, here’s James. Let’s get something to eat. He says he knows a good place.”

  “I thought he would.”

  *****

  “I don’t think we should come to Paris too often,” said Imogen, as she and Ned left for the Eurostar after saying goodbye to James. “I’ve eaten so much I can hardly move.”

  “Yes, but what a lunch. James and I were very good, I thought, not to have a full brunch and save ourselves for lunch with you.”

  “Most thoughtful. I suppose the fact that he suggested one of the best restaurants in Paris had nothing to do with it?”

  “Maybe a little. Look on the bright side. We won’t need to fix any supper when we get back.”

  “You are the master of forward planning.”

  “Oh, the memory of those goujons will stay with me forever.”

  “I hope not.”

  *****

  “Off we go,” said Ned, as the train left Paris. “I’m going to book a return trip soon. I like thinking of myself as a Francophile.”

  “How unpretentious of you. Still, we were at a rather pretentious meeting last night. It occurred to me that although Elodie’s murder was dreadful, and I wish I’d never got involved in it, I have, nevertheless, met some very interesting people as a result.”

  “So you enjoy all that philosophical cant, do you?”

  “Of course not. That was only when I asked Sabine about her next book. Generally, though, she was actually very nice, very relaxed. It was almost as if we were two old friends, meeting for a coffee and a stroll. It gives me pleasure to think I have made the acquaintance of one of the top French contemporary writers. I feel I’m getting somewhere in life.”

  “That all sounds very philosophical to me,” said Ned. “Some of her attitude to life is obviously rubbing off on you.”

  “That’s what I mean. I really enjoy being highbrow. I think it suits me. I loved the literary reading.” Imogen started. “What’s that beeping?”

  “I just got a text. I hope it’s not work doubling my shift tomorrow.”

  “Oh, well, it’s good to know you’re needed.”

  “I don’t recognise the number. Hang on.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s from Sophie.”

  “What? What does she want? ”Imogen didn’t sound impressed.

  “She says, ‘Sorry we couldn’t link up this weekend. My show opening will be on 10th October. Invitation on the way. Sophie.’ Isn’t that nice?” said Ned, looking up and obviously very pleased with himself.

  “I didn’t realise you’d given Sophie your number,” said Imogen, her voice rather strained.

  “I didn’t – or, at least, I don’t recall giving it to her.”

  “She must have got it from the hospital website or a medical listing.”

  “I don’t think that any of the medical websites have mobile numbers. In fact, I’m sure they don’t.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t text me,” said Imogen. “I’m her friend, supposedly.”

  “It is strange,” said Ned.

  “Well,” said Imogen, who was feeling intense irritation now, “she’s certainly a sharp one. Hang on, now I’m getting a text. Don’t people realise it’s a Sunday? Goodness, it’s from Sebastian. That’s almost unheard of.”

  “Must be a revolution or a bomb, or something.”

  “He says, ‘Imogen. Urgent business tomorrow. Please be sure to be on time.’ What on earth can it be? I’m never late. And why didn’t he just call me?”

  “Oh, he loves a drama. Phoning you would give it all away.”

  “I suppose so, but I feel that something must be going on.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Imogen, thank goodness you’re here early,” said Sebastian, the following morning. “Tarquin’s already in.”

  “What on earth’s happening?”

  “Well, it’s all very hush, hush,” said Sebastian, “but some big names in opera have asked us to help them with interviews and articles for a huge new project they’re trying to launch. They’re coming in this morning and I’ve hired the large studio downstairs. We mustn’t tell a soul.”

  “How many people have you told so far?” asked Imogen.

  “Only a few,” said Sebastian, “but they can really be trusted.”

  “Of course,” said Imogen, who had no doubt that Sebastian would never have kept it to himself – or that any of his friends would, either.

  “So, what is this project?” asked Imogen.

  “It’s a whole new staging of some of the Beaumarchais operas. Top, top singers and conductors.”

  “Why does it have to be so secret?”

  “They want to make a splash, Imogen. If it leaks out, it’s just not the same. You know, it’s Rossini, Mozart and Corigliano. Top, top stars; it’s mind-blowing.”

  “I’m surprised they’re embarking on something so ambitious at this stage in the economic cycle. Most arts organisations are pretty strapped for cash at the moment and they’ll need to sell a lot of tickets.”

  “Well, you see… oh there’s my phone again. It’s been ringing like mad. Tarquin will fill you in. He’s up to speed on everything. Remember, darling. Not a word.”

  *****

  “So,” said Imogen to Tarquin, “what has been going on and how did I miss it all?”

 
“Well,” said Tarquin, “it’s all very complicated, but some of the more avant-garde opera companies in London, Paris and Madrid are trying to put together these productions. You know how Bohème was produced in conjunction with Vienna, to save money on sets and production costs?”

  “Yes, I do know that, actually,” said Imogen, trying not to sound as put out as she felt. She was beginning to feel somewhat left out.

  “The thing is,” continued Tarquin, “it was going to launch in Brussels, but there were disagreements and now it’s happening in London. They want some PR stuff very, very pronto, so that it can all go out in one big splash. That’s why some very big stars, believe it or not, are coming here today.”

  “Wow,” said Imogen, who was beginning to see what all the fuss was about. She took a list from Tarquin’s desk and leafed through it. “Oh, Gilles Parterre, I know him.”

  “You haven’t heard the best bit yet.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me?”

  “Well, there’s a chance that places like Chicago could get involved.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s quite a coup.”

  “In what guise?”

  “Oh, advice, that sort of thing. If they did, it would lift the status of the productions to a whole new level.” Tarquin was obviously thrilled.

  “I am aware of that, Tarquin,” said Imogen. She could tell she was sounding a bit disgruntled, which she knew was unfair. It wasn’t Tarquin’s fault she’d been away when it all broke. “No wonder Sebastian’s on fire,” she continued, in a more reasonable tone, “although usually he likes to portray himself as so laid-back.”

  “Yes, but this is a really big deal and we’re not that large an outfit. Also, it’s slightly outside our usual remit.”

  “I wonder how many people he’s told.”

  “Oh, most of London, I should think,” said Tarquin.

  “It’s all go,” said Sebastian, rushing into the office. “We’re needed downstairs, now. Got all the papers, Tarquin?”

  *****

  “I have one question,” said Imogen to Tarquin, as they went towards the lifts. “When did all this break? I mean, I was in on Friday.”

  “Early Saturday. Can you believe it? Sebastian got me out of bed. I came in and we went for it. It was great.”

  “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “He knew you were going to Paris. He felt it would be really mean to stop your ‘little romantic weekend’, as he put it. I think he kind of hopes you and Ned will make a deal of it.” Tarquin grinned.

  “Goodness, he hardly ever mentions Ned.”

  “Maybe, but he notices more than you think. Anyway, he got me to check what time you were arriving back – you had left details in case any problems arose,” said Tarquin.

  “Which you ignored—”

  “And then he texted you just as you were on your way back. Voilà! A perfect plot!”

  “Very clever. Trust me to be away when all the action’s breaking.”

  “No, you’re here when all the action’s breaking,” said Tarquin. “You just missed a weekend of preparation. You should be very pleased with yourself. Anyway, Genevieve and I weren’t doing much this weekend, so she came in to help.”

  Imogen smiled and couldn’t help reflecting how Tarquin had matured since starting at Opera London. When I have children, she thought, I’m going to make sure they do work experience. Then, for some reason, she thought of Ned.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered.

  “What?” said Tarquin. “What did I say?”

  “No, not you,” said Imogen, laughing. “I’m talking to myself. Come on, we’d better go and calm Sebastian down before he goes up in smoke.”

  *****

  “Imogen, Tarquin, there you are,” said Sebastian, who really did look as if he could implode at any moment. Standing with him was a tall, rangy guy. He was good-looking, with thick brown hair and green eyes. Casually dressed, he was introduced by Sebastian as Tim Harper. Imogen took a step back as she identified him as one of the leading young directors around.

  “Imogen and Tarquin are my staff,” said Sebastian to Tim.

  “Pretty small staff,” said Tim.

  “Oh, we run a very tight ship,” said Sebastian. Imogen realised that the innovators of this new project would probably be amazed when they found out what a small outfit Opera London really was. She couldn’t help wondering how they managed to get the project in the first place.

  “Imogen, Tarquin, you help Tim and his team to get coffee and I’ll run up to welcome the stars,” said Sebastian, as he disappeared out of the door.

  “Is he always like that?” asked Tim, as they helped themselves to coffee.

  “He likes to think he’s very laid-back, but he can get into a tiz,” said Imogen.

  “Yes, this Beaumarchais business has sent him into the stratosphere,” said Tarquin. “It’s the first time anyone has called me darling – even Sebastian.”

  “Well, it is an important project,” said Tim, “and the deadlines are very tight.”

  “I’ve never heard of such an undertaking. A whole Beaumarchais cycle being planned at the last moment,” said Imogen.

  “It’s not quite like that,” said Tim. “Talks have been going on for quite some time. We were only somewhat involved in the early stages and then dropped out as the other three got together. When it came to finalising things, there were some differences – I think a few egos got in the way – and we got a call. We had continued with our plans on a low-key basis, thinking we might stage it at some time in the future. They knew this and suddenly it’s go, go, go. We only got the call a few days ago.”

  “And you’re keeping it all under wraps for the moment,” said Imogen.

  “Well, I’m sure you know that’s not possible in the opera world,” said Tim. Imogen and Tarquin exchanged glances, but remained tight-lipped. “But rather than have snippets of info leaking, we wanted to do it our way. We realised that some of the stars, as Sebastian loves to call them, were in London and thought we’d go for it.”

  “And you called Opera London?” said Imogen, somewhat bemused.

  “Yes. When we decided on our strategy, we were talking to our Parisian partners and their adviser, Gilles Parterre – I don’t suppose you know him – suggested you. We needed someone who was ready to go at short notice and Sebastian was surprisingly responsive. He was also very aware, knowing about Gilles and his work at the Chorégies in Orange. And Genevieve was great when it came to faxing and sorting out some of the documents in French.”

  So now Sebastian’s an expert on the Chorégies, thought Imogen. “It is true that we keep up to date with the Chorégies and with Gilles,” said Imogen. “In fact, I was down there last summer to see their production of Carmen and I interviewed Gilles in Aix-en-Provence.”

  “Ah, so that’s how the contact came about,” said Tim. “You really are quite a buzzy outfit. I can see why he recommended you.”

  Imogen could hear Tarquin coughing behind her. “We like to keep our finger on the pulse of what’s happening abroad,” said Imogen. “And it’s true we have good contacts.”

  “I must get to know you better,” said Tim. “I can’t always get to hear all the gossip when I’m busy with a production. There can be days when I hardly leave the rehearsals except to sleep.”

  “But it must be very exciting,” said Imogen.

  “I love it. It’s my life,” said Tim.

  “I’m sure,” said Imogen.

  “Perhaps we could have dinner some—”

  “Oh, oh,” interrupted Tarquin, “here comes Sebastian and he’s in a state. I can see steam rising.”

  *****

  “It was fun,” said Imogen to Ned, that evening, “but very tiring. It’s g
oing to be fabulous, I think. I can’t remember anyone doing the three operas like this. The contrasts will be fascinating. Tim said that he’s hoping the various Opera Houses will present it over the whole of next summer. He will be going over to Paris to work on some of it and has suggested that Tarquin and I go for a few days to do some interviews and get some stuff for the magazine.”

  “Wow, that really would be a good opportunity.”

  “You bet,” said Imogen. “Tim said he could fix it for us to interview more or less anyone we like. Plus Opera London has got the exclusive on all three productions, partly because he was so impressed when Gilles knew all about us and the magazine.”

  “Well, Tim sounds like a very good sort.”

  “Yes, he really is. I’m sure he’s a brilliant director, although I haven’t seen him in action yet. We’re going to have dinner, to discuss some of the issues.”

  “Will Tarquin be going along?” asked Ned.

  “Oh, no – at least, I don’t think so. Tim didn’t suggest it, anyway.”

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t. Oh well.”

  “Oh well, what?” said Imogen.

  “Just, oh well,” said Ned. “Did you remember to get food, by the way? We’d better get cooking, it’s getting late.”

  “Oh, no, sorry. I forgot. I’m not particularly hungry, anyway. Tim ordered in some food for a very late lunch and we worked through it.”

  “Good old Tim,” said Ned. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can rustle something up.” He made his way towards the kitchen. “If fact,” he said, “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “What’s that?” said Imogen, looking up from her computer.

  “I remembered that I’ve got some leftover lasagne in my flat. I may as well go back there and finish it off.”

  “Oh,” said Imogen. “Well, if you like. It may be a good idea, in fact, because I’ve got quite a bit of work to do and an early start tomorrow. Tim suggested we all get in very promptly to set up.”

  “I wouldn’t want to get in Tim’s way,” said Ned.

  “Oh, just before you go.”

  “Yes?”

  “I haven’t told you the best bit yet,” said Imogen.