Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Jason Blacker

  "What kind of shape was he in?"

  "He had a black eye and a swollen cheek."

  "And did he say what happened?"

  "No, he just said he got involved with a couple of thugs on his way home. But the rumor was that Kieran, Rosanna's husband, had waited for him after a concert a while back and given him a licking."

  "When was that?"

  "Around the same time that Perry came to talk with him. A few months ago I guess."

  "So if I'm starting to get a clearer picture of Paul it is that his problems are women, booze and drugs in that order."

  Lauren didn't say anything to that. She looked back at the rest of the orchestra, tuning and practicing.

  "What was Paul's relationship with Sonia Varnier?"

  "I don't know. He was very closed lipped about it. But I wouldn't be surprised if he used to have a relationship with her when he first started here. She is the reason he came here. I heard rumors she gave him a lot of money to stay and the apartment he has use of is probably worth at least a couple of million. Not something he could afford by himself. I'm afraid you'll have to ask her about their relationship, or him, if you ever find him. He never told me anything other than Sonia was very generous."

  "I've heard she's one of the biggest patrons of the Philharmonic."

  "Could be," said Lauren, "though I've never seen any of her largesse personally. Most of us haven't. Her generosity doesn't seem to filter down to the orchestra other than Paul. And what he gets from her I can't say."

  I nodded at Lauren.

  "Can you give me the address for your husband's work? I'd like to visit him tomorrow."

  "Only if you promise to be discreet with what I've shared with you," she said.

  "Scout's honor."

  I was never a scout so I've never had scout's honor. But Lauren didn't have to know that. She gave me the address and I thanked her for her time. She had given up being flirty with me. It was just as well. I wasn't interested in married women.

  FOUR

  Chapter 4

  I brought Rosanna Stewart down from the stage for my next interview. She was playing the piano when I called her. She wasn't wearing glasses and her skin seemed unblemished. She wore makeup to make her look paler than she was. My immediate impression of her was of a white geisha. She had brunette hair in curls that flowed past her shoulder. She was slim and attractive with a small mouth. She was taller than Lauren with brown eyes, and in my mind more attractive. But then I've always had a thing for brunettes over blondes.

  She wore casual ripped jeans and a bulky blue t-shirt that had some sort of logo on that I didn't pay attention to. She was very polite. She offered me her hand and I shook it. She introduced herself and said how nice it was to meet me. Her mouth was full of lies, swarming with them like flies. But she meant well and I didn't take it personally.

  "Do you really think something has happened to Paul?" she asked, trying to get a start on the conversation. Usually, that's a bad sign.

  "I do," I said.

  "What sort of thing?"

  "That's hard to say. He could be lying in some back alley with broken kneecaps or maybe he's just in bed, hung over with some trollop next to him that isn't you or Lauren."

  I smiled at her to see what she'd make of that. Her eyes fluttered but her composure didn't.

  "That's not a very nice thing to say."

  She held my gaze.

  "I've found out that not very nice things have been going on with orchestra."

  "Still, you don't have to be mean about it."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Perhaps I should have asked you why you're an adulterer."

  I still had on my cheap, sticky smile. You can buy them by the dozen at any dollar store. Rosanna raised her eyebrows at me and shook her head slowly. Looked like she was shaking her head at her dog that just did his business on the kitchen floor. But I wasn't her dog and I was potty trained.

  "That's such a crass word," she said.

  "But it's accurate."

  Rosanna offered me a fake smile. The kind they giveaway at fairs for free.

  "Mr. Carrick. Your acerbic wit might work with most women, but I don't know you. I don't care to know you, and I certainly don't like you. But your words are the weapons of a small mind. I'll give you the courtesy of my time because Frank asked and because I care for Paul. But please, let's stop beating around the bush."

  She had some sass. In fact, she had a lot of sass for a battered woman. I couldn't decide if that was what got her in trouble or if it was something new she was trying out on me first.

  "I bet your husband loves it when you talk to him like that," I said.

  "I thought you wanted to speak about Paul."

  "I do, but it's so seldom I get a dressing down from a beautiful woman that I just want this moment to last."

  She shook her head again, but didn't say anything.

  "Why do you wear that hat anyway?" she asked, looking at my fedora on the seat next to me. "It makes you look like a dick."

  She didn't say it with a lot of malice. I looked over at the fedora.

  "That's because I am a dick, but my dick and me are private. See, that makes me a private dick. Like Sam Spade. Who also wore a fedora. It's an honored tradition."

  She smiled pointedly at me.

  "If it makes you feel like a big boy."

  "Enough about me," I said, tiring of her loose mouth. "I'm beginning to understand why your husband slaps you around."

  That turned her white cheeks red. The fires in her eyes flared.

  "My husband does not hit me," she said.

  "That's pretty much what every woman says whose husband beats her. What you don't know about me is that I had ten years on the job. I've heard it all before. But I'm here to talk about a missing man. The one you were sleeping with. Paul Klee. Let's get back on topic."

  "Fine," she said, almost pouting.

  "How long were you having a relationship with him?"

  "A few years, I guess."

  "And your husband found out, right? Kieran is his name?"

  "Yes, he did find out a few months ago."

  "And I understand he gave you a black eye over it. Did the same to Paul that very same week."

  "Like I told everyone, I walked into a door."

  "I know, I've heard it all before. Doors just seem to like smacking women in the face. Listen, I know he smacked you around. I'm not here about that. I'm here about Paul."

  "How comforting. I'm sure you were a great cop."

  "I did alright. Did Kieran tell you to break it off?"

  Rosanna looked down at her lap and twisted her mouth off to one corner.

  "He did."

  "And did you?"

  She shook her head slowly. Then she looked back up at me and her mouth wasn't twisted anymore.

  "I was going to leave him for Paul. We were making plans."

  "You're telling me that Paul was the settling down type."

  She shook her head slowly.

  "No, not originally. But over the last six months or so we started to get serious. He asked me to leave Kieran. Said he'd take care of me."

  "And you were okay with that? You were going to leave a wife beater for a philanderer?"

  This place was dripping with sickly sweet irony. The places I get myself into sometimes.

  "No, it wasn't like that. I don't know what Lauren told you, but she likes to think things were more than they were with her and him. Her husband, Perry, had told her to call it off. She didn't want to, but Paul was going to. She got quite upset about it."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because he told me."

  "And you believed him?"

  Rosanna nodded her head.

  "Yes I did. You wouldn't understand, but sometimes people can change. He had changed, his wicked ways were behind him. I don't know why. I never thought he would. When we first got together he wasn't like that. And I got tired of it. I guess he loved me, because he said he was going to leave h
is old ways and try and start fresh with me. He said he was getting older and he wanted to start fresh."

  "What about his drug and alcohol problems?"

  "He didn't really have drug and alcohol problems."

  "That's not what everyone else tells me."

  "Everyone else being Lauren. Like I said, she likes to live in a certain fantasyland. Yes, Paul drank a little and he took a little coke. But he said he would quit it once we were married and I believed him."

  "When were you planning on getting married?"

  "Next summer. But I still had to leave Kieran. I was planning on telling him this weekend. Paul told me he wanted me to tell him sooner but I was trying to build up my courage."

  "So your husband doesn't know then?"

  "I don't think so. I mean I don't have a black eye now, do I?"

  She gave me her first honest, yet tragic smile.

  "So you do admit that he hits you?"

  "It's only happened a few times. Kieran's not been happy lately. He lost his job on Wall Street a couple of years ago and he hasn't found anything yet. He's a proud man and he wants to earn a living but nobody has hired him yet. He'll be better once he gets a job."

  "You'll be better off without him," I said.

  "I'm leaving him. I told you that."

  "What will you do if Paul doesn't show up, or worse yet, he's found dead?"

  Rosanna looked down at her lap. She shook her head sadly and slowly.

  "I don't know. I hadn't thought of that."

  "It's easy," I said. "You should still leave him."

  "You might not know this, Mr. Carrick, but we don't make much money here at the orchestra."

  "And Kieran's making a killing right now."

  I smiled at her but she didn't say anything.

  "He's like a dead weight holding you back. But that's none of my business. I'm just a dick like you said, trying to find out what happened to Paul."

  Rosanna looked into her lap again, twiddling her fingers. She looked up at me with a sad face. A face lost and hopeless.

  "I don't really know what I'll do if anything bad happens to Paul. He's my world."

  "You'll carry on," I said.

  "I don't know if I want to," she said, and I took her at her word.

  "Had he changed over the last week or even the past few days? Did you notice anything different about him?"

  "He seemed more nervous than usual. I mean, I shouldn't suggest that he was always nervous, but he seemed more nervous in the past few weeks. He wouldn't tell me why, but he thought he was being followed."

  "Followed by whom?" I asked.

  "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. One occasion, about a week ago, we were walking back to his apartment together, and he seemed particularly concerned about these two men who were following us. At least he thought they were following us."

  "Tell me about them."

  "He said he'd seen them in the audience during that night's concert. He said that they were following us back home. I looked back and saw them. But when we turned the last corner and I looked back, I didn't see them anymore. To be honest with you, I didn't take them very seriously."

  "Can you describe these two men who were following you?"

  Rosanna shook her head.

  "Not very well. Like I said, I didn't pay much attention because they weren't following use when we turned the last corner home. They also stayed back about twenty or thirty feet and it was dark. They looked big though, and they wore suits."

  "How big?"

  "Probably much bigger than you."

  "Bigger or taller?"

  "Both, at least the one was. The one man had a buzz cut like a marine, and he was big in the shoulder and chest and tall. Probably much taller than six feet. The other guy was just as tall but slimmer. He seemed to have longer hair. Not long exactly, maybe like yours but I think it was blonde."

  "Did Paul ever submit a police report about it?"

  "No, but he said that his apartment had been ransacked around the time that he started to notice these men first hanging around. He submitted a police report then."

  "Have you seen these men before or since?"

  Rosanna shook her head again.

  "No."

  "Did he mention if anything was taken when he was burglarized?"

  "No, he said nothing had gone missing."

  "Did he have any suspicion what they were after?"

  "Not that he said to me."

  "Did he have any valuables that you knew of?"

  Rosanna kept shaking her head. I had to start asking different questions.

  "Not particularly. He didn't spend his money on much. He didn't have a car, and the apartment was only his so long as he was with the Phil. Sonia Varnier owned it. He had lots of money. He told me that with his orchestral pay and Sonia's allowance he was making about a quarter of a million dollars a year."

  "What did he do with all that money?"

  "I'm not sure. He liked eating at fancy restaurants like Daniel's and places like that."

  This meant nothing to me. The kind of places I like to eat at are working men's steak joints. Where the steak is large and the bill is small.

  "So he had nothing of value then?"

  "Well, no. He really took very good care of his violin. He had a few, but there was one he used for special concerts. It was a Stradivarius that his great grandfather had given him when he was eight or nine. When he started showing great interest and proficiency in the violin. And it's not a modern day Strad which is just a knock off really. This one was made by Antonio himself."

  "You might as well be speaking in Italian," I said.

  "I'll make it easier for you to understand then. This Strad that Paul had is called the Blount Strad. It was made in seventeen seventeen by Antonio Stradivarius himself, during what is called his golden period. His best violins were built between seventeen hundred and seventeen twenty-five or thereabouts. This Blount Strad, as it has become known, was bought by the English poet Alexander Pope. It was bought by him and given to his lover Martha Blount, thus becoming known as the Blount Strad. She was an amateur violinist who used to play for Alexander. Something which he apparently enjoyed. But that's not important. This Blount Strad is considered amongst the best examples of Antonio's violins. It has an exquisitely etched and carved tailpiece along with pegs and scroll. It is really one of a kind that way."

  "I see," I said, trying to feign interest.

  Rosanna shook her head vigorously.

  "No, no you don't. You don't understand how beautiful this violin was. I've never seen anything like it. It was easily worth over ten million dollars. Paul in fact had it insured for that amount."

  "I see, but who would have known how valuable this instrument was?"

  "Well, quite a few of us on the orchestra, I'm sure. Especially other violinists, though Paul never made much mention of it actually. He usually downplayed how special this particular violin is."

  "Anyone else?"

  "I imagine there are those who understand violins and who study Stradivarius would likely know who owns the Blount Strad and its value. Other than that, it is quite a niche market. There are only a few hundred left remaining, and only a small handful that are considered his best work. This one being one of them."

  "Where is this violin now?"

  "I don't know. Paul usually kept in the basement here in the Lincoln Center. There's a safe in the basement where he would keep it. But over the last few weeks since he's become concerned about being followed, he's pretty much kept the violin on him. It's probably with him wherever he is."

  So if we find the violin we might find Paul, or vice versa. I couldn't quite see how a violin was worth all this trouble, but we'd find out soon enough.

  "Did Paul give any indication that someone was after his violin?"

  Rosanna shook her head.

  "No, not really. He wasn't sure what those two men who were following him were after. I don't think he ever spoke to them. But he became pa
ranoid about the violin and started carrying it with him shortly after his apartment got broken into."

  "That doesn't make a lot of sense," I said. "Surely the violin would have been safer in the safe."

  "Well, I don't think Paul was that rational. He became a little paranoid. I told him the same thing. But he said that he couldn't trust anyone, not even Frank."

  "Frank knew about the value of his violin then?"

  "He must have, as he arranged for Paul to keep it in the safe under lock and key."

  "And who has access to that safe?"

  "I don't know. You'd have to ask Frank. I know he does for sure. I believe he gave Paul a key too, but other than that I don't know."

  "If he was so worried about the violin, why not just keep it locked up and if it got stolen, then take the insurance money. I'm sure you could buy a few violins with that kind of money."

  Rosanna shook her head and looked at me quaintly.

  "It's not just the monetary value of the violin. It was the sentimental value of the violin too. His grandfather got it during the war in Nazi Germany."

  "I see. From who?"

  "I don't know exactly, but Paul said that he had verification of every owner of the violin from Alexander Pope, Martha Blount and through to him."

  "But you don't know who that was?"

  Rosanna shook her head.

  "I don't. He never told me."

  "Tell me about what happened to Paul the week you got your black eye from your husband."

  Rosanna looked at her lap and knitted her fingers together. She might have been trying to make a scarf for all I knew.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Listen, Rosanna, I don't have time for this. You admitted that Kieran smacks you around. I want to know if he gave Paul the black eye too. If you really care for Paul, you'll be more forthcoming so we can get to the bottom of this."

  She looked up at me, and then looked over at the orchestra. Nobody was paying us much attention. They were still a cacophony of screaming cats.

  "Yes."

  Her voice was barely a whisper.