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

by Blechta, Rick

  “Are you getting all this down, Dan?” Shannon asked. “I’ll search for more information on both of them while you two talk. I’ll see if I can find out whether Grant has an electronics background.”

  The two men continued the discussion as the car reached the Gardiner Expressway eastbound. Being after ten on a weekday night, traffic was really zipping along.

  Near the bridge over the Humber River, it happened.

  Since traffic was light, Tony didn’t need to concentrate on the cars around him very much, so he didn’t notice the black car that had been very close behind them for several minutes. Some emergency road work was being done on the right just past the bridge where something had gone into the guardrail. Like everyone else in Toronto, Tony wasn’t paying any attention to the lowered speed limit.

  Just before he came to the bridge, the car behind him sped up and began to pull out. As it came level with Tony, the driver turned hard to the right and slammed broadside into Tony’s rental car. Taken completely by surprise, he didn’t stand a chance.

  The car shot off the road into the emergency pylons at twenty kilometres above the posted limit and slid along the partially repaired guardrail. Ricocheting off, it shot across all three lanes, narrowly missing a transport truck and into the opposite guardrail where it came to rest, miraculously still on its wheels. For good measure, a skidding car clipped the rear end and spun them around.

  Tony was aware of screeching brakes and people running toward them. Looking to his right, Shannon was out cold, leaning heavily against the still-intact side window.

  He heard Dan curse from the back seat and then his head appeared in the rear view mirror.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I think our friend just tried to kill us,” Tony said, surprisingly calmly.

  “Shannon?”

  Tony undid his seat belt and felt her throat for a pulse. “Alive. She must have hit her head. Can you see if there’s any blood?”

  By this time, people were trying to wrench open the damaged doors and it got through to both men that the interior of the car reeked of gas.

  “We’ve got to get her out of here,” Dan said.

  Someone appeared with a crowbar and started working on Tony’s door, which was the least damaged. It popped open fairly easily. Helping hands gently extracted Shannon and two people carried her a safe distance from the car. As they were setting her down by the side of the road, the car burst into flames.

  Shannon’s eyelids fluttered and she groaned. “What happened?”

  Dan knelt down. “He may not have been able to listen in on what we were talking about, but our adversary certainly seems to have known where we were.”

  As the sound of approaching sirens came from the distance, Shannon swore.

  Police, fire department, and an EMS van arrived in a bunch. Shannon wouldn’t be kept down despite protestations from the medics and cops. She had a huge knot on the right side of her forehead. Caution would dictate an x-ray at the very least, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  Wandering off to the side, she had her mobile out and was speaking angrily to someone.

  Dan, looking at the fiery mess from which they’d barely escaped, said to Tony, “It could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

  “Yeah, but the rental company is going to be pissed.”

  “I never thought for a moment we’d be the ones to screw up Toronto’s traffic tonight.”

  They burst out laughing, a bit too enthusiastically. Both realized just how close a thing it had been.

  “I don’t care where he is,” Shannon shouted into her phone. “Let him know what’s just happened. Got that?” A sour expression on her face, she jammed her phone into a front pocket of her jeans as she walked over to Tony and Dan. “Luckily my phone wasn’t in my shoulder bag. Shit! Replacing all the I.D. is going to be such a pain in the ass.”

  Dan raised his eyebrows. “Somebody came out of that in a feisty mood.”

  The accident site secured, a senior officer came over to them. “You three were in the car?” After they answered in the positive, he asked, “Who was driving?”

  Tony answered, “I was.”

  “Have you had anything to drink this evening, sir?”

  Before Tony could sputter an indignant answer, Shannon peeled the cop off and spoke intensely to him for a few minutes while he nodded and scribbled into his notebook as quickly as he could.

  A half hour later, they were leaving. Shannon had finally been convinced to take a ride in the ambulance. Tony and Dan were in the back of a police cruiser, being driven downtown for further questioning. With the arrival of two of Dobbin’s detectives, the matter had taken on a more urgent air.

  By the time the police were satisfied, it was nearly four in the morning. Out on the sidewalk in front of Toronto’s police headquarters at College and Bay, though it was still dark, it felt to the two men as if the new day had already begun.

  Dan turned to Tony. “What are you thinking?”

  Tony seemed taken aback by the question and didn’t answer immediately. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you up for continuing this, I mean, like right now? That bastard almost killed us a few hours ago. Four murders in one day? He’s obviously getting desperate. I think we need to take him out now.”

  “You’re saying you don’t trust the police to handle things?”

  Dan put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, Marta’s life could be on the line right now. The cops will take it slow and easy. We’re not ratting out some gangbangers here. These men we’ve told them about are movers and shakers in this city. The cops will certainly go slow and easy, not break down doors and rush in. Do you think it’s wise to wait for that?”

  “You’re saying we should take this on ourselves?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but if you were this guy and the heat was being turned up under you, what would be the logical thing to do?”

  Tony’s eyes opened wide. “Get rid of the evidence.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tell me what we need to do.”

  “First, we need to find out if either man was in Italy when Marta and I were there — and I know just the person who can help us. She works in the Canadian embassy in London. She owes me a big favour.” He made the call, spoke quickly about what was needed, nodding as he listened. “Okay, Pamela, it’s really important. Seriously, it’s a matter of life and death…. I will, and I will be forever in your debt…. I just bet you will…. Yes, right away. Speak to you soon.” After putting his phone back in his pocket, Dan clapped Tony on the shoulder. “We’re good to go. I wish we’d hear from Shannon. She knows her way around this sort of thing far better than we do.”

  “What do we do if she’s not available?”

  Dan walked into the street to hail a cab. “I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along.”

  They took a cab uptown to Dan’s apartment in the tall high rise at Yonge and Eglinton. His apartment was a maze of cardboard boxes, but the coffee brewer was hooked up, the kitchen table was mostly clear, and they’d stopped at a Tim Horton’s on the way to pick up some breakfast sandwiches.

  As they filled their empty stomachs, Dan said, “I was just thinking about how our guy was able to get on our tail so quickly last night.”

  “And?”

  “Somehow this bastard can still listen to us. I have no idea how, especially this time, and it’s driving me nuts. This sort of thing only happens in movies.”

  “Or bad detective novels.”

  A few minutes later, Dan’s smartphone rang. “Yeah…? My place…. He’s with me…. Sure.” He passed his phone across the table. “Shannon.”

  “Shannon?” Tony asked after switching on the speakerphone function. “Are you all right? Where are you?”

  “Just leaving St. Joes. They wanted to hold me for observation, but that ain’t gonna fly. Not today.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Like I told them, I
was born with a good, hard head. I’ll be fine. What are you guys up to?”

  “We’re going to choose the most likely subject of the two and go after him.”

  “I may be able to help you there. I had my boyfriend Michael bring down his iPad, so I could do something useful while I sat around in Emerg.”

  “And you found something useful.”

  “You could say that. First of all, Tallevi isn’t even in the country. He was at the Metropolitan Opera last night, sitting in the general manager’s box.”

  Tony asked, “What about Peter Grant?”

  “About an hour ago the cops told me he was at home, supposedly asleep when someone was trying to kill us. He has a corroborating witness.”

  “I don’t see how that’s useful — except running us up another dead end.”

  “There’s more. His late wife was an opera singer —”

  “I already knew that.”

  “Give me a minute! I looked up her obituary and a posthumous profile in a magazine. Both of them quoted her long-time vocal coach: Lili Doubek.”

  “I never knew that!”

  “We have to assume Lili knew Peter Grant in more than a passing sort of way.”

  Tony whistled. “Holy shit.”

  “There’s more. The obit said Rosa Latini ‘died unexpectedly after a short illness.’ That’s newspaper-speak for suicide when the family doesn’t want the true story to get out. One of Lili’s quotes also makes an oblique reference to it. I don’t know how yet, but I’m willing to bet this is all tied in to what’s happened to Marta.”

  Tony couldn’t sit still. “When can you get here?”

  “I should go to the police with this.”

  “There’s not time.”

  Shannon’s voice suddenly became muffled as she spoke to someone else, then, “Michael is threatening to take me to police headquarters instead of up to you guys. I’ll call you back, okay?”

  Tony looked at Dan. “Is your computer hooked up? I want to read up on Grant and I don’t want to search the Internet from my smartphone. Too slow.”

  “It’s in the living room.”

  “Lead on.”

  “Grab the coffee pot, will you?”

  Dan handed Shannon a mug of coffee as soon as she was in the door.

  “Thank the Lord,” she said after a sip. “I couldn’t bear to drink the hospital coffee.”

  Tony helped her off with her jacket. “Shannon, you should be in the hospital.”

  “It looks worse than it is. My mom wouldn’t even bat an eye at this tiny mark on my head.”

  “The whole right side of your face is swollen and bruised.”

  “Believe me, I’ve looked worse.” She took another sip from her mug. “So what have you boys found out since I called?”

  Dan handed her a sheaf of printouts. “Want just the highlights?”

  Tony spoke. “I knew Rosa Latini a bit. She played some minor roles at the COC back when I was starting out in the chorus. She had a nice voice, but somewhat small and limited. Reading her obituary, though, jogged something loose in my memory. My cousin, who was also in the chorus and knew Rosa better, once told me Grant was always on the GM of the opera at that time to hire his wife for a major role. He intimated he would make a big donation if they did. Funny thing was, she knew she didn’t have what it takes to carry an opera. She enjoyed her small roles.”

  “And she committed suicide,” Dan added. “I wonder if there’s a connection.”

  “I sure wish Lili was here,” Tony said. “She would know about the dynamic between Grant and his wife. If you want my opinion, after the death of his wife, Grant latched on to Marta — who is everything in the opera world that his wife wasn’t.”

  “Look, we could sit here and psychologize all day. It’s after six. We’ve wasted enough time. Grant must be edgy that he didn’t manage to kill us last night.”

  Shannon grinned. “I’ve bought us a bit of breathing room. I talked the cops into telling the media that the three of us were taken to hospital with very serious injuries. If we get over to his house soon, I think we may catch Mr. Peter Grant in bed, sleeping without a care in the world.”

  Both men kissed her on the cheek.

  “Let’s boogie,” Dan said as he threw Tony his coat, “and give him a personalized wakeup call.”

  The trip didn’t take long, but Dan was on the phone nearly the entire ride. His contact in London had done her work well. Peter Grant had indeed been out of the country the entire time Marta and he had been. The fact that he’d supposedly been in the UK was of little consequence. They all knew how easy it was to cross borders once inside the European Union.

  The Grant house was located in Hoggs’ Hollow where Yonge Street, Toronto’s main drag, descends into a large bowl-shaped depression. At the bottom was a secluded enclave of homes, most rather grand, and Peter Grant’s turned out to be the grandest.

  “Likes to show off,” Shannon observed.

  “Guy has a real edifice complex,” Dan added.

  Tony rang the doorbell while Shannon used the brass door knocker vigorously. After a minute’s wait, they were about to try again when the door was jerked open.

  A strikingly pretty woman stood there in a rather revealing robe. “You people again? Wasn’t it enough to bother us last night?”

  Shannon took the lead. “We need to speak to Mr. Grant.”

  “What do you want now?”

  “And you are?”

  “Jennifer Glendon, Mr. Grant’s executive assistant.”

  So that’s what they’re calling it now, Shannon thought. “It’s rather urgent that we speak to your employer.”

  “He’s still asleep. As I already told you, his evening was interrupted by you people.”

  “May we come in?”

  “No, you may —”

  Shannon, followed by Dan, pushed right on by. Tony hustled to catch up. The foyer was large, two storeys tall, and impressively lined with carved wood panelling.

  “You cannot just come barging in like that!” the woman spluttered. “You need a warrant.”

  “They don’t need a warrant, Jennifer, because this bedraggled group is not the police.” Clad in an elegant dressing gown, the master of the house was partway down the staircase. “What is the meaning of this intrusion, Lusardi?” he asked, staring daggers.

  Tony stared right back. “Where is my wife?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Shannon stepped forward. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Grant’s face grew red. “I’m not answering any of your damned questions,” he said, continuing down the stairs. “What I am going to do is phone the police and have you arrested for trespassing!”

  Pulling out her cell phone, Shannon said in an icy cold voice, “No need. I’m perfectly willing to call them for you. I’m certain they’ll want to ask you the same questions we would.”

  Not waiting for an answer, Shannon made the call.

  Tony stepped right in front of Grant who was now at the bottom of the stairs. “Why don’t you just come clean, Grant? We know you’re involved in Marta’s kidnapping, a murder in Rome, and now one in Toronto. All we want is Marta back, safe and sound.”

  Peter Grant’s eyes literally bugged out. “Are you insane? Is that what you honestly think?”

  Tony’s body was rigid with anger, his arms at his side, fists balled and ready. “And if you’ve harmed her in any way, I swear to almighty God, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Inspector Leslie Dobbin, preceded by two police cruisers that sealed off the house from the curious, showed up in record time. Shannon brought him up to speed outside the house, after which he entered and spoke quietly to Peter Grant for a couple of minutes. Grant was silent except for nodding a few times. After that, Grant led Dobbin and Shannon into his study, followed by a notebook wielding constable. The door shut and the entry hall became silent, except for the ticking of an or
nate clock at the bottom of the grand staircase.

  Dan found a seat on a padded bench near the front door. “I guess we’re expected to wait while the important people have their confab. Wonder if we could get Grant’s live-in executive assistant to make us some coffee?”

  Tony sat down next to him. “I don’t think I’d trust her after what was said, mostly by me, I’m afraid. I always was a hothead.”

  “You’ve a perfect right to be in this case, old man,” Dan replied clapping him on the back.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait for a search of the house to be started?”

  “If Grant involves his lawyer it might be hours, or even days.”

  “He seemed genuinely surprised when I accused him of two murders and an abduction.”

  “Would you expect anything less from the guy we’ve been chasing?”

  Inside the elegant study, things were tense.

  “For the third time, I would like nothing more than for the Hendriks woman to be found. I even called Lusardi yesterday to tell him that. Ask him. I’ve waived my right to have a lawyer present in order to clear this up without delay. I am not involved in her disappearance.”

  Dobbin ignored the comment. “We appreciate that, sir. But I do need to ask where you were yesterday morning between nine thirty and eleven.

  “At my health club, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Do you have any witnesses who can corroborate that?”

  “Of course I do! Why is this so important?”

  Shannon cut in, her eyes fixed on Grant. “Because somewhere in that time span Lili Doubek was murdered.”

  “Lili is dead?” Grant looked genuinely shocked. “I hadn’t heard.”

  Dobbin asked, “Then you knew her?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. Lili was my late wife’s vocal coach. I met her in passing because of that, but never really had anything much to do with her personally.”

  Shannon was over by a side wall covered with framed photos. “You look pretty chummy with her in this photo,” she said, pointing to one.

  The photo showed four smiling people, arms around shoulders. Grant was on the left side, Lili and Rosa Latini-Grant in the middle, and on the right end was a handsome lad of about eighteen.