Masques and Murder — Death at the Opera 2-Book Bundle

by Blechta, Rick

  While Lainey got busy making soup and sandwiches, I listened to a string of messages that had come in. Most were congratulatory from various friends who’d caught one of the two reviews that had apparently been in the Toronto papers. Two more were from Alex, complaining that I was almost never home and never had my cellphone switched on when I wasn’t. Managers can be such a trial.

  “Alex!” I said when I got him on the line. “What is it you want?”

  “You are very lucky that I’m a patient man, Marta Hendriks.”

  “You are?” I teased.

  “Most definitely. How come I’m the last to know you had a major triumph?”

  Oops! I thought. I hadn’t thought about calling Alex. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, I answered, “I guess I was a little bit distracted. I haven’t even seen the reviews. Something else came up.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this: a singer who doesn’t read every word written about her?”

  Getting a bit peeved, I asked, “Is this all you’re calling me about?”

  “Actually, no. My phone has been ringing off the hook. Suddenly my girl is a hot property.”

  “Who called?”

  “First, Tallevi from the Canadian Opera. He wants to build a season around you. How would you like to do Tosca, Lucia di Lammermoor, and Carmen three years from now and be able to walk to work?”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of singing.”

  “One would be early in the fall and one later and the last in the spring. This is a tremendous opportunity. They’ll make sure they schedule in enough rest, and you’ll be the marquee attraction. There’ll be scads of publicity, too.”

  I took a deep breath. “Tell Tallevi he’s got a deal. Who else called?”

  “Several other companies, including La Scala and Vienna. I told them you’re only taking starring roles.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m not kidding. The word is getting around. I take it you’re agreeable to working at those houses?”

  “Pinch me. I must be dreaming.”

  “In the meantime, I think we should see about doing a recital tour for next fall. It may be a bit late, but I should be able to swing something pretty good, call in a few favours. You need to get more income over the short term and keep that public profile high.”

  “I don’t know....”

  “Look, Marta, we have to strike while the publicity iron is hot. Don’t you want to cash in on that?”

  “Put that way, yes I do.”

  “Then listen to your Uncle Alex and let me do what I know is best.”

  “Okay,” I answered, but I hope he heard how tentative my approval was.

  I rang off in a state of disassociation. Sure, I wanted to revive my career, and La Scala and the Vienna State Opera were high on any singer’s list, but this was all happening so fast.

  Lainey came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of soup and sandwiches and asked where I’d like to eat.

  “I guess at the dining room table,” I answered.

  She stopped and looked at me. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I was just talking to my manager. It sort of feels like my life is taking off on me and I’m not on the plane.”

  “Huh?”

  “The word seems to be getting out and all of a sudden, offers of gigs are streaming in. They want me to sing at La Scala and Vienna.”

  “And that isn’t a good thing?”

  “Of course it is, but it feels like I’m losing control here.”

  “Take it from someone who spent twelve years on the road: that’s what you pay managers for.”

  After our meal, we sat at the table talking, and the subject matter was again not pleasant. Lainey had called Montreal while she was in the kitchen and found out that Sébastien’s funeral was tentatively planned for Saturday.

  “So when will you drive back?” I asked.

  Lainey suddenly looked quite uncertain. “Could I stay here with you another day?”

  I gave her a big smile. “Absolutely!”

  After lunch, we adjourned to the living room and Lainey, after going through my CD collection, chose a movie soundtrack she hadn’t heard that was pretty well all percussion. I zoned out, thinking over what Alex had said to me. Lainey put on a movie and I didn’t really watch that, either.

  Shortly before five, I drew myself from my reverie of fortune and opera glory, stretched, and glanced lazily at the clock. A little bell tinkled in my head, but it was a full three seconds before I realized why it had sounded.

  “Holy God!” I cried, leaping to my feet.

  Lainey looked up sharply. “What?”

  “Someone is picking me up at six o’clock,” I answered, scurrying for the bedroom. “I’ll never be ready in time!”

  My clothes were off and I was making a bee-line for the bathroom by the time Lainey followed me.

  “Are you telling me you have a date?”

  “Yes. And I already stiffed this guy on Saturday when I found out what had happened to Sébastien,” I said over the water as I waited for the shower to heat up.

  Lainey was leaning against the door frame, arms folded across her chest. “Sounds fascinating. Tell me more.” Her face had a distinct smirk.

  “There isn’t much to tell. He’s the guy who sold me my laptop.”

  “You let a computer geek pick you up? You are desperate.”

  “He’s not a computer geek! He’s the assistant manager of one of the biggest computer stores in the city and he sings in the COC chorus.”

  “And I’ll bet he’s the one who taught you how to poach Internet connections. He could be dangerous.”

  “It’s only until I get the equipment I need.”

  “At which point you’ll have to get him over to help you set it up. How very convenient.”

  “Get off it, Lainey. It’s not like that at all.”

  “I’ll just bet it isn’t. Do you want me to make myself scarce tonight?”

  “No. We’re just going out to dinner. That’s it. I’m not about to jump in the sack with some guy on the first date!”

  “Why not? I can think of at least one time during university when you did.”

  “Lainey!”

  It suddenly hit me: how could we be carrying on like naive co-eds with Sébastien’s funeral around the corner?

  Lainey’s face told me she obviously felt the same sting. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  As I got into the shower, I felt torn. I really was excited about going out with Tony. He interested me, and it amazed me that something like this was happening in the midst of all the turmoil in my life — and after the way I’d felt about my husband. But here I was going out on a date, leaving my friend to spend the night alone with her dark thoughts. The afternoon had brought Lainey out of her funk a bit, to the point where she’d actually been smiling and joking a moment ago. If she was anything like me, she’d be starting to hate herself about now.

  “I’ll make this a really early evening,” I told her over the noise of the water.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Once again, Tony arrived right on time and that very hot black Corvette was waiting at the curb when Sam jumped up from behind his desk to open the front door for me, grinning as he stared out at the gleaming car.

  Lainey had helped me with my hair and I thought it looked pretty good cascading down to my shoulders rather than just hanging limply. The bad part was that I had to put up with a lot more of her teasing, both of us falling into routines we’d established when we’d shared an apartment in the student ghetto near McGill. In many ways, it all seemed a bit hollow. I knew she was trying to help me feel good about actually going out on a date. Or maybe levity was the only way for Lainey to cope with all that she was going through. I was just glad Chloe, the third of our triumvirate, wasn’t around, since she teased with far more devastating effect than Lainey.

  Tony was waiting at the curb and opened the door of his car with smooth aplomb, taking my hand and
kissing it as I stepped close. “You look lovely again tonight. You can’t imagine how nervous I am taking out the belle of the ball the night after her great triumph.”

  I grinned wryly. “You’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

  “How is your friend, you know, the one in Montreal?” he asked as the car roared to life.

  “Actually, she’s here, staying with me. We thought it was a good idea for her to get away for a bit.”

  “Really? That’s very kind of you considering what you had to accomplish over the past two days.”

  “She arrived early this morning. I’ve already been up for twelve hours.”

  He looked over at me as we drove east on Front Street, heading for the Don Valley Parkway. “We should make this an early evening then.”

  “You’re right, but I’m pretty wide awake at the moment — and hungry,” I said, lying through my teeth.

  Why couldn’t I have remembered dinner before I’d bitten into that second sandwich at lunch? All my hard work at the gym was about to go down the drain.

  The whole way up to Woodbridge, the radio stayed off. Tony told me he didn’t want to take any chances. Instead we talked shop, meaning opera. That discussion went right through a quite fabulous dinner at the small trattoria. The owner had greeted Tony like a long-lost cousin and fortunately didn’t recognize me. I wanted a relaxing evening, not to be the centre of attention. For dessert, we shared the best tiramisu I’d ever tasted.

  “Your nonna is right about this place,” I said, giving my fork a last lick. “I don’t know when I’ve ever had better Italian food. That ravioli in the first course was pure ambrosia.”

  “I think that’s why Nonna approves of this place. They will not serve any pasta that isn’t homemade.”

  Our waiter brought espressos with some little hazelnut wafers, again homemade.

  “I could become addicted to these,” I said, biting into one.

  “That’s Nonna’s recipe. She gave it to Paulo the chef because she didn’t think his previous cookies were up to snuff. Believe it or not, that’s a very high compliment from her.”

  “I hope to God I never have to cook for her. That would be far too intimidating.”

  Tony smiled. “She’s actually a very nice, little old lady. You’d like her.”

  I put down my cup and smiled across the table. “Why?”

  “She loves opera. When she was much younger, her family owned one of the finest restaurants in Rome. That’s where she learned to cook. Her dad was the chef, but more importantly, he was a pretty good baritone, by all accounts.”

  “Are you going to tell me next that everyone in your family sings?”

  He looked up. “Have you been talking to people down at the opera house?”

  “No, but I’ve met Italians before who claim that.”

  “Well, I have two cousins in the opera orchestra, another cousin was in the chorus with me until her third child was born. My Aunt Annetta is in the chorus. My mother and father met in the chorus at the Rome opera and —”

  “Stop. Stop!” I said, laughing. “I believe you.”

  “But I’m not done yet. I haven’t told you about my two uncles, and my other cousins. I also have a second cousin who’s studying in Europe. He may be the best Lusardi yet.”

  “Now you’ve got me thoroughly intimidated. I’m the only one in my entire family, which admittedly isn’t anything like the size of yours, who’s made a career as a musician. They all think I’m an alien.”

  With a wry smile, Tony said, “Then I guess aliens must be incredible singers.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or feel embarrassed.

  We’d dawdled over coffee and more cookies, so when we left the parking lot, it was pushing nine and time to get back to Lainey. I felt a bit uncomfortably full, but told myself that I’d be extra good the rest of the week. Meals like the one I’d just enjoyed don’t come along every day. Thankfully, the restaurant was awfully far from downtown Toronto if you don’t have a car.

  Traffic on the ride home was quite light and we chattered away happily about our favourite singers. Naturally, they were mostly Italian. I felt very content.

  It wasn’t until we were a few blocks from my apartment that I thought about Lainey’s teasing earlier. I don’t know what might have happened if she hadn’t been there, but I could have been tempted to invite Tony in for a nightcap. Right now it was a real boost to my recently battered ego to have a male, a nice honest male, so obviously interested in me.

  He glided to a smooth stop in front of my building and shut off the engine. We sat for a moment then both started to say what a good time we’d had, causing us both to laugh.

  I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I really did enjoy myself this evening, Tony.”

  He looked at me, his expression quite unreadable. “I did, too ... very much.” Smoothly, he leaned over and kissed my lips. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was direct and quite, quite lovely, lingering and sweet.

  I sighed as he pulled away. “Wow! I’ve always heard Italians were the best kissers, but I didn’t believe it until now.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t mind. I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”

  To emphasize his point, he leaned over and did it again, this time con fuoco.

  Someone walking by the car slowed down to take a look and it broke the spell.

  “I really should be getting inside.”

  If Tony was disappointed, his smile didn’t show it. “You’re right. I’ve kept you out too long.”

  “Thanks again, Tony.”

  “It was my great pleasure.”

  I was walking across the sidewalk when his voice stopped me. Turning, I saw him half in, half out of his car, speaking to me across the roof.

  “I nearly forgot. Sunday is Nonna’s birthday and we’re having a little family get-together. I was wondering —”

  “I would love to come, Tony. Can I bring anything?”

  I couldn’t believe I’d actually just said that, but I could always find something good at a bakery if he accepted my offer.

  “No, no. My nonna is doing all the cooking with a few others helping her.”

  “She’s cooking for her own birthday?”

  “The old girl wouldn’t have it any other way. She considers it a treat to cook for that many people. There will be lots of food, all served family style. Wait until you taste her pasta!” Tony kissed his fingers in a loud smack as Italians do. “È come se Dio stesso discese per terra!”

  He compares his grandmother’s cooking with God coming down to earth? No, they wouldn’t be requiring food from me.

  “What time does it start?”

  “We’re having it at Uncle Giuseppe’s workshop near Eglinton and Caledonia. I could pick you up around five.”

  “How should I dress?”

  “Hmmm,” he said. “Something nice, but not too fancy. All the males will be wearing suits and the women will wear dresses, unless one of my younger cousins decides to risk censure and be more daring than usual.”

  “I think I can manage that. Okay, see you at five right here on Sunday.”

  I blew him a kiss and entered the lobby feeling more lighthearted and carefree than I don’t remember when.

  The TV was on when I walked into the condo, but I found Lainey stretched out on the sofa, completely down for the count. It had been a long day for her. Hell, it had been a long day for me, I realized with a face-splitting yawn.

  When I turned off the TV, she stirred and propped herself up on one elbow. “What time is it?”

  “A bit before ten.”

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I think I fell asleep about two minutes after I switched on the TV.”

  “You’ve had a long day, girlfriend.”

  “A long week.” Looking at me searchingly, she added, “So how was it?”

  “The food was absolutely fabulous, some of the best Italian I’ve ever had. Great service, too.”

  Lainey rolled her eyes.
“That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know, but I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “He kissed you, then?”

  “Just good night in front of the building.”

  “Sounds pretty tame.”

  “He’s a very good kisser.”

  “So do you think you’ll bonk him?”

  “Lainey, my dear, I am not going to dignify that remark with an answer. I’m simply out on my feet, so I’ll bid you good night. Your bed is made up in the guest room.”

  “Just before you go: I checked my voicemail this evening. Sébastien’s funeral has been moved up by a day, so I should head back to Montreal sometime tomorrow.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  I walked over and hugged her. “I want to.”

  “Thanks.”

  As I got ready for bed, I felt a twinge of guilt. Moral support was not the only thing fuelling my urge to travel east.

  I wanted to talk to the relatives of the two biker witnesses who had been murdered.

  Sébastien’s funeral on Friday morning was awful. First off, given the notoriety of his death, it was a full media feeding frenzy and that always brings curious onlookers. I wore sunglasses the whole time with a scarf tied around my hair, trying to look inconspicuous. It wasn’t because I expected to be hassled because of who I am (as if), I just didn’t want anybody asking awkward questions. Both Lainey and I also felt it quite likely that someone might be watching us.

  Sébastien had been the golden boy of his family, the eldest son and successful. His parents were taking his death badly. Since no one in his family had ever met Lainey, she was left on the outside looking in, and that was very tough for her. I began to realize just how much she’d been in love with him.

  I’d gotten in touch with Chloe during the drive the previous day, and she’d managed to book off from another morning rehearsal with the symphony. So there we sat, bracketing our friend in Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral while the service dragged on and on. Afterwards, there was to be a reception, but Lainey was in such a state that Chloe and I talked her into going somewhere else with us for a little private remembrance over lunch.