Dobbin seemed satisfied Dan knew his place. “Come inside, everyone. We can all bring each other up to speed.”
There was a large table at one end of the long trailer. They sat down and coffee was offered. “Or whatever else you want, I’ll send someone out for it,” Dobbin said.
Shannon thought she should handle asking the questions. Tony still looked completely zoned out.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
“Someone showed up for a vocal coaching around one. When Ms. Doubek didn’t answer the door, he waited, then eventually tried the door. He found her lying in her front room, obviously dead.”
“Cause of death?”
“Not official yet, but I know strangulation when I see it.”
Tony put his head down.
“Any of the neighbours see anything?”
“We’ve got constables knocking on doors, but so far no. Immediate neighbours who were home didn’t see a thing.”
“The front door was unlocked?” Tony asked. “Lili never left it unlocked, not in this neighbourhood.”
Dan said, “He couldn’t have risked picking the lock, not here: too much traffic, too many prying eyes. I suppose he could have gotten a key somehow. This guy is that good.”
“Lili kept a key under one of the flowerpots to the left of the door,” Tony told them.
Dobbin looked at him. “Do you know which one?”
“Sure.”
“Mike!” Dobbin shouted over his shoulder. “Go with Mr. Lusardi. We’re looking for a key.” As Tony got up, he added, “How many people would have known about this?”
Tony shrugged. “No idea. Marta and I knew, but we were really good friends. I don’t think she told most people.”
Dobbin looked closely at Shannon. “Why today?”
“Lili was working up a suspect profile for me. You know the drill. Were any papers found near the body? Is Lili’s laptop in the house?”
He picked up his walkie-talkie. “Easily found out. Samotowka? When you’re done with Lusardi, send him back in here, then I want you to look in the house for papers, handwritten. They most likely would be in the room where we found the body. If not, there is that room with the piano. Also, look for a laptop. Let me know ASAP what you find. Okay?” Dobbin turned back to Shannon. “If they’re around, my men will find them.”
Dan said, “Trust me. You won’t find either thing.”
“But the effort has to be made. Sooner or later this guy will slip up. They all do.”
“Not this guy.”
“If we don’t find Lili’s profile,” Shannon said, “then we’ll know for certain it was this bastard we’re after — not that I have any doubts.”
Tony returned. “No key,” he said.
“So was there anything else you were working on, Shannon, that might have got up our boy’s nose?”
It took her ten minutes to run down their latest theory, finishing with, “Thing is, we haven’t come up with much.”
“Why didn’t you come to me with this?”
She shrugged. “I felt we needed something solid to get you to listen.”
“Shannon, you know me better than that. You were always too much of a lone wolf for your own good. That’s why we’re so leery of you. I know you were a good cop, but after that cock-up with the jazz singer a few years ago … Well, what can I say?”
“Precisely.”
“What have you come up with?”
“I’m fairly certain it isn’t Tallevi. It’s fairly easy to get his itinerary. He could have been in some of the cities where Marta received those roses, but definitely not all of them. Ditto with Odynski, the director of the COC’s board. He’s too old, anyway.”
“So what are we looking for?”
“That would have come primarily from Lili’s profile. The abductor has money and isn’t afraid to spend it. He’s familiar with the backstage of opera houses. He may or may not have someone working with him in that regard, but Lili had already told us she didn’t think so. He would want to do it all.”
Dan added, “He’s a dab hand with surveillance, and he’s got access to cutting edge technology.”
Dobbin blew out some air. “In short, you’re saying this guy is a bloody genius.”
Tony finally looked up. “He knew Lili.” Everyone around the table turned to him. “I’ve just been thinking. I don’t ever remember her needing to use that spare key. I know she only told certain people where it was. The person who murdered her has to either be a good friend, or someone who saw her use the key. Either way, it has to be someone who knew her, someone who came over here before, probably multiple times.”
Dobbin asked, “And you’re certain?”
“Lili was a very careful person. She lived alone and there are a lot of people around here who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of that. She was pretty security conscious. If she were to need to use that spare key, she would be very careful to make sure she wasn’t seen.”
Shannon had pulled out her flip notebook and been scribbling notes. She looked up. “Our boy may have made a tactical error. This is something pretty solid to go on. We need to find a suspect such as I outlined earlier and who had more of a passing relationship with our late friend.”
“May she rest in peace,” Tony said as he crossed himself.
Shannon reached over to put her hand on his arm. “Tony, I didn’t know her anywhere near as well as you, but I can safely say she will rest a lot better if we catch this bastard.”
“He’s probably already done the same to Marta.”
“Don’t say that! We’ve got to believe we can do this. I know we can.”
Tony nodded. “I just don’t dare to hope sometimes, but you are right.”
Dobbin smiled. “Forget what I said before. Shannon O’Brien, you never should have left the force. We need cops like you.”
She shook her head. “Thanks. But you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the number of stumbles and the amount of bad judgment we’ve had on this case. Our quarry has made us look foolish at every turn.”
“Mr. Lusardi, we’ll start with you. The murderer knew Lili Doubek, you say? I need a list of everyone who saw her on even a casual basis, and you can help me get that list started.”
Tony nodded. “Sure. Anything I can do to help.”
“And Shannon, I’m bringing you onboard for this fully. We need every sharp mind we can get. I’ll just have to make them understand downtown. I’m going to call a meeting of everyone who’s working on this case and we’re going to shift our focus. I need all three of you to tell us everything you’ve got — and I mean everything. We’re going to get this bastard before he does any more harm.”
“Then we’re going to have to move fast,” Dan said under his breath.
Chapter Thirty-One
Blackness flowed within and without me. I knew now why solitary confinement could be such a harsh punishment — especially when it was this solitary. Time had ceased to have meaning. I drifted from waking to sleeping and back again with virtually no seam. I could have been locked in this room for a week, or a month with no clear idea how much time had passed. The only way I could reliably gauge at least the general passing of time was when he brought food. I certainly wasn’t being served three squares a day, but based on my hunger, I was probably being fed twice a day.
As my feeling of detachment increased, my dreams became luridly vivid and intense. I dreamt of my dead mother and father, of Tony, and my first husband, Marc. Then came ones of being buried alive. I couldn’t stop them and they were just too horrible to contemplate.
My captor didn’t seem to care if I sang, so I did that. But with so little sonic feedback due to the soundproofing, it didn’t feel right. Music needs resonance, but the impenetrable darkness swallowed up the notes I sang as soon as they left my mouth. I forced myself to keep on, but with decreasing enthusiasm.
I measured the chain as best I could and guessed it was seven feet. I walked back and forth at
its length to get some exercise until the clamp around my ankle began to chafe. Sit-ups, push-ups, and the like have never been something I enjoy, but I did them until my whole body ached.
All of this at least made me feel marginally alive. Somewhere in the blackness I still existed.
There was a longer gap between my fourth and fifth meals. I had the horrifying thought that something might have happened to my enemy. It was shattering to realize anything that happened to him happened to me, too.
With thoughts like these running through my head, it was a struggle not to completely freak out. What would it be like to be trapped here, gradually starving to death? My brain couldn’t really process the horror of something like that. I needed to change the tune.
I got off the cot, stood up straight and tall as my teachers had taught me, and began vocalizing. I did it thoroughly and I concentrated as hard as I could in order to block out bad thoughts.
It was either that or risk going mad.
I must have been deeply asleep, because I didn’t hear him open the door. I stirred as the lights suddenly came on, blinding me because I didn’t react quickly enough and opened my eyes. That much light when you’ve spent hours in utter darkness was completely overwhelming.
“Can’t you just turn the damned lights off?” I asked. “I can’t see you anyway.” They clicked off, and I took my arm from my eyes. “Thank you.”
A moment later he said, “I brought you this.”
Something made of cloth landed on my stomach. Lord be praised! It was a T-shirt, and while it wasn’t all that long, it was something.
“Thank you,” I said as I got off the cot and slipped it over my head.
I thought it was part of his plan to keep me naked in the darkness and silence, just to make my misery complete. Why the change? What had happened?
“I brought you something to eat. Do you want it?”
“Absolutely. I’m famished.”
“Slide me the chamber pot and I’ll empty it for you.”
Even though the soundproofing made it seem as if the room was stuffed full of cotton, I could pinpoint his position exactly. Moving carefully because I didn’t want to risk dropping it, I went unerringly to where he stood. It became clear that he must have been wearing night vision goggles or something, because his hands reached out and took the pot from me when I reached the limit of the chain.
Light from the outside world flooded in as the door opened and shut. Though nothing like full sun, it still seemed overwhelmingly bright. At least we weren’t underground. That was something — a big something.
I counted off just short of five minutes before he came back. This time he turned on his bloody lights. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could, but it still seared my eyeballs.
“Hold out your hands.”
A plate and thermos were thrust into them. “Don’t dawdle,” was all he said before leaving again.
This time it was pasta with chopped sausage in a tomato sauce. Again it tasted very familiar. I’d eaten this before. That gave me something to think about while I wolfed it down, once again using my fingers. The thermos was filled with some sort of cola.
He came back in immediately after I’d eaten the last mouthful. He definitely had a way to watch me when the room was dark.
At the chain’s limit, I exchanged the plate and thermos for the rinsed out chamber pot.
Something was different about him and I decided to push my luck.
“So, how is your day going?”
“What?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation. It’s lonely in here, as you can imagine. And you seem preoccupied.”
“I am not having a good day.”
“Anything I could help with?”
I seemed to have struck him totally speechless with my attempt to draw him into conversation.
Eventually he said, “Hold out your hand.”
I was suddenly very frightened, but I didn’t want to show it. “Why?”
“Because I told you to!” he shouted. “Hold out your hand.”
I did as requested and he again placed one of his damned roses in my hand.
“Are you going to release me?”
“Yes.”
I was shocked. “When?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
“Why not now?”
“Because there are still things I must do.”
“Will you tell me why you’re doing this to me?”
“Yes. Just before I release you.”
“Thank you.”
“You owe me no thanks, Marta. None at all.”
He left the room hurriedly. The lights went off and I again heard the bolts sliding into place. Surely that was for effect. He used the bolts for their aural impact, wanting me to know it was hopeless to think I could ever escape.
He’d sounded different this time, almost distracted. Something had happened. It was as if my enemy was unnerved by something. What was it? And did it have anything to do with me? I didn’t dare to hope that maybe the police or Tony and Shannon were getting closer, that he was in danger.
I ran my right hand up the stem of the rose to the large blossom. This time a vertical half-section had been removed, almost as if it had never been there. A chill ran down my spine.
I got the feeling if someone was going to come and save me, they’d better do it soon.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tony felt completely lost back in the apartment.
Even when Marta was away — far too often, but then he knew that going into their relationship — something of her, maybe just her scent, remained behind. Now it felt like she’d never been there. It was hard to bear. He walked through every room, as if he might find her presence hiding in a closet or behind a door. There was nothing.
It’s just the end of a long, depressing day, he told himself. What else do you expect?
The apartment phone rang. He answered it in the living room, but not before checking the number. This was a local one, but he didn’t recognize it. Having memorized most of the media numbers by this point, he still felt reluctant about answering and picked up only at the last minute.
“Yes?”
“Tony Lusardi?”
“Yes.”
“This is Peter Grant speaking.”
Why would the main sponsor of the new opera be calling him?
“I’m just calling to say how appalled I am by what has happened and also to inquire if there’s anything I can do by way of assistance.”
“Other than bringing my wife back? It’s very kind of you to call, though, ah, Peter.”
“Has anything new come to light?”
“Not really.”
“Nothing from the kidnapper? A ransom demand, something like that?”
“No. The police have instructed me not to say anything about the status of the investigation — although I suppose I just have with my previous comment. I hope you understand.”
“Quite, quite. How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“If there’s anything you need, or any news, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Needless to say, I’m a huge fan of Marta. My late wife also spoke glowingly of her many times. I was really looking forward to her performance in the new opera’s premiere.”
“You make it sound as if Marta not being able to sing is a foregone conclusion.”
“No, no, you misunderstand. Nothing would please us more than to see her grace the stage at the Four Seasons Centre on opening night, nothing.”
“My faith has to be in the police. I also have other resources being brought to bear.”
“Ah. The blond detective I saw in your wife’s entourage.”
Tony didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t answer.
After an awkward pause, Grant added, “As for my offer, anytime, day or night, call. Do not hesitate.”
“I’ll remember that. Very generous of you.”
“Nice speaking with
you, Lusardi. Bye for now.”
Perplexed by the call, Tony stood for several minutes wondering what it was all about. He’d hardly spoken a dozen words to Peter Grant before this.
Of course, he could have been trying to show his support, but Grant didn’t strike him as the warm and fuzzy type. He certainly didn’t have that reputation in the business world. There had to be another meaning.
He picked up the phone again.
“Leonardo?” Tony said, switching to Italian. “Tony Lusardi. Listen, I just had an unexpected phone call from Peter Grant. What’s up at your end? Have there been any discussions about replacing Marta in the production?”
A very awkward silence followed before the general manager of the COC answered. “Tony, my friend, I am sure you understand that we are all appalled and devastated by what has happened. But I also have the good of my company to look after. That is my job, after all. A great deal of money has been spent, many tickets have been sold, publicity put into place.
“Yeah, yeah, and the show must go on. You forgot that one.”
“Tony, we would like nothing more than to have Marta performing on opening night, but we have to be realistic, as well. Every hour that goes by with no news of her brings the company closer to an inevitable and sad decision. It is far too late now to bring in someone else and it would be unfair of me to keep our understudy waiting until the very last minute to be told that she has the responsibility of carrying the entire opera — because that’s what the role of Naomi involves.”
“The understudy? It’s part of an understudy’s job to never know when they are going to have to step in and perform. We both know that. You’re ready to write Marta off, damn you.”
“Nothing of the kind! But if, God forbid, Marta doesn’t come home in time, do you expect us to cancel the run? That would be a disaster for the COC.”
Tony knew what Tallevi was saying made sense. The small company Tony was singing for had no compunctions going elsewhere for someone to replace him, almost before he had told them he’d have to bow out of their production. Still, it filled him with both sadness and anger that everyone was willing to write off Marta after she’d been missing for not even forty-eight hours.
Masques and Murder — Death at the Opera 2-Book Bundle Page 52