by P. J. Conn
"I play the oboe in the orchestra and knew him well," the man offered. His wife, an attractive brunette, rolled her eyes.
Joe remembered her from the tea, but she hadn't said much when he'd joined her table. "I've heard nothing but compliments for his talent as a cellist, but away from the Philharmonic, he appears to have been a different man."
"Not entirely," the oboist said. "Many talented men feel the world rotates around them, and Matteo was no exception."
"Men weren't jealous enough to kill him," his wife stressed. "One of his numerous affairs must have proven fatal."
"It looks that way." Joe excused himself to speak with others. He saw Suzanne Ritter across the room. He'd made a point of inviting her, and she'd come in a burgundy hued suit that nearly matched her hair, and black stiletto heels. He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Mary Margaret and Matilda remained in conversation with Paloma, Andrea, and Lily.
When he'd taken Mary Margaret to Sherry's, they hadn't seen Lily's striptease act, and he doubted Lily would reveal her current employment tonight. At least he hoped not when thick black smoke would surely spew from Matilda’s cute little ears.
"Mr. Ezell." Suzanne had made her way to him before he could reach her. "People aren't speaking the truth about Matteo, unless they're whispering under their breath. Can't anyone bear to be honest about him?"
"Not at a memorial," Joe countered. "Since talking with you, I've often thought of his love of milkshakes. Were you the one who owned the blender?"
"Yes. Matteo had absolutely no talent in the kitchen." She smiled slyly. "No one held it against him though."
She took a sip of her drink and licked her lips. "Who is the tall fellow?"
"Gunnar Ingvild, a visiting conductor with the LA Philharmonic."
"Excuse me, I just developed a new interest in the orchestra, and should introduce myself."
She left him with a provocative sway. She'd been on the suspect list, but if she'd killed Matteo, she would be too preoccupied covering her own guilt to be drawn to another man at a memorial for the cellist. She was another woman he hoped Mary Margaret wouldn't meet.
Constance appeared, took his arm, and nodded toward the study. "Come with me."
He followed her into the book-lined room. She shut the door, and leaned back against it. "What do you think? Has anyone caught your interest who hadn't before tonight?"
"Not yet, but I'm doing my best. Only one young woman, Tanya Olson, who lives in Matteo's Almont building, said she really didn't know Matteo well enough to come tonight. She may have had the opportunity, but no motive, so she wasn't a serious suspect anyway. Is Veronica da Milano here? I need to speak with her."
"She arrived a few minutes ago with Sean Dermot. He's clearly in love with her, but she barely notices him. Poor guy. Do you suppose he has the patience to wait for her to get over Matteo?"
"He may, or may not, I don't make any predictions when it comes to love."
"That's very wise." Constance answered a soft knock at the door, and Gunnar looked in.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked.
"Of course, not, darling. Joe and I were just having a little chat." She left with the conductor, and Joe followed. They were a striking couple, and clearly Gunner was drawn to sophisticated women. Joe wondered how happy Constance would be in Norway, but she could certainly afford to purchase a lovely fur coat.
Veronica had told him she no longer owned the fur coat and hat similar to the mystery woman's. Now he was curious as to what she'd done with them. He had to wiggle through the guests to reach her. She stood at Matteo's portrait, regarding it with a fond glance, while Sean concentrated on the crowd.
Joe found an open place by her side. "This may seem to be a strange question, but you mentioned the fur coat and hat you no longer owned. Do you recall what you did with them?"
She wore a black jersey sheath dress that hugged her slender figure and complimented her fair hair. Even with exquisitely applied cosmetics, she appeared desperately sad.
"Well, yes and no. They were in my hall closet in this fall, and then they weren't. My maid has been with me for several years, and wouldn't steal my things, but if a burglar broke in, they were all he took."
Expensive clothing didn't just disappear, unless someone planned to use them, perhaps to trick Matteo into welcoming them into his home. "Do you remember when you last wore them?" Joe asked.
She turned to Sean. "When you were in New York in October, do you recall if I wore my sable coat and hat the day you took me to lunch?"
Sean closed his eyes a moment and rocked back on his heels. "I believe you did, and they were lovely with your fair coloring. Why do you ask?"
"Just following loose threads," Joe responded. Whoever had picked the lock on his office, could have gotten into Veronica's home just as easily and taken her fur coat and hat. Had Matteo's murder been planned a month ago?
"Have any of your New York friends moved to Los Angeles or come here to visit in the last month?" he asked.
Veronica took a sip of her drink. "No, my New York friends prefer the East coast to California. I don't have any friends here, other than you, Sean. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Sean blushed. "I'm so sorry for the reason you need me, but it's been a pleasure."
Joe couldn't bear to watch Sean drool over Veronica. "Excuse me, I need to check on my fiancée and her mother." Paloma was still entertaining them, and a cluster of others, with a description of a recent art exhibit at the gallery showing her birdhouse paintings.
Mary Margaret stepped close to Joe. "This is a most interesting crowd. Have you discovered anything promising?"
"If I have, I haven't figured it out yet."
The waiters brought in folding chairs, and with Constance's subtle urging, her guests found seats. Gunnar moved to Matteo's portrait. "I'll always remember Matteo's incredible talent. He seized each piece of music with a passion that will forever set him apart. He added to the great privilege I've enjoyed conducting the Los Angeles Philharmonic, where all the members are exceedingly fine musicians."
On the edge of the crowd, Joe eased from his chair to take a place where he could keep an eye on all the guests. It wouldn't matter if the killer did no more than twitch, he'd notice. Constance followed Gunnar and spoke for the Philharmonic board.
"We have so many talented musicians here tonight. I'd love to hear your stories about Matteo, as you would have known him best." After charming coaxing, the oboist spoke, and other members of the orchestra followed. Some shared amusing anecdotes, while others praised Matteo's generosity. Apparently the cellist had helped several men with loans when their family desperately needed one.
Sean held Veronica's hand, but he didn't rise to speak. He had not spoken at the reception after the funeral either. He'd described Matteo as a close friend, but being so devoted to Veronica, Joe wondered if any praise he might give the late cellist would sound insincere.
None of the women present praised Matteo for reasons other than his musical talent. It may have been discretion, or self-preservation. Joe could easily imagine a tacky scene with spitted insults as to whom Matteo had loved the most. Constance wouldn't abide such an unseemly display, but he could not help but smile at the thought.
At the end of the spoken memories, Constance again moved to the front of the room. "Thank you all for coming tonight. Please stay as long as you wish, and we'll call it an early Christmas party."
Gunnar moved to the piano to create a festive start and with the string trio began Deck the Halls With Boughs of Holly. Andrea and Paloma leaned on the baby grand and sang along. The waiters removed most of the folding chairs, and returned carrying trays with tiny cream puffs and crystal flutes of champagne.
Disappointed he'd learned nothing of real value, Joe focused again on Sean and Veronica. Despite the praise for her late ex-husband, she looked no happier than when she had arrived. Sean moved close, dipped his head to speak with her, and Joe was struck by how gracefully the
man moved. They were both slender, and nearly the same height. With a sudden smack of the obvious, he knew who had murdered Matteo da Milano.
Chapter 15
Mary Margaret stood close by. Joe took her hand, and led her into the adjoining study. He closed the door to assure their privacy. "I have an idea, please hear me out before you comment."
She leaned against the desk, raised a finger to her lips, and nodded.
"We already knew Sean Dermot had powerful motives for murder. He's in love with Veronica, and if Matteo were out of the way, he may have believed she would fall into his arms. Matteo's Stradivarius cello would have sweetened their romance. He must also have expected to take Matteo's place with the Philharmonic.
"My mistake was in believing Sean must have had an accomplice if he were behind the murder. We all thought a woman had killed Matteo, but that's what the murderer planned for witnesses to see. Sean visited Veronica in October. He could have taken her fur coat and hat to use as a disguise. Matteo would have recognized them, and believed Veronica had come on a surprise visit. He would have welcomed his caller in, and death quickly followed."
"It's logical," Mary Margaret agreed softly, as though they were exchanging dangerous secrets. "But why would Sean attack with a stiletto heel rather than a knife or gun?"
"To make it look as though a woman had killed Matteo, so there would be so many suspects no one would consider him a threat. I noted the ungainly way the fur-swathed woman nearly ran in stilettos, but it didn't occur to me the murderer would be a man unused to wearing high heels. Sean would have tossed the bloody stilettos, but he kept Veronica's fur coat and hat and wore them to visit me."
"Why would he have kept them?"
"They belonged to the woman he adores, and probably still have the scent of her perfume. I'll ask Constance to keep Sean and Veronica here after everyone else leaves."
"What will you do? He'll never admit to killing Matteo."
"Something will occur to me."
She rested her hands on her hips. "We need a better plan than that."
"You're right, of course, but trust me. I can see it all coming together in my mind. Just keep your mother safe if the evening ends in a wild fist fight."
She straightened up. "Is there a risk of that happening?"
"I plan to corner the murderer, and he might fight back. Gunnar will be on our side, and that's a big plus."
"I'll say." She led the way from the study, reached for a champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray, and turned to toast him. "I know you'll make me proud."
Joe appreciated the encouragement, but she might be stretching it a bit.
Constance had produced a book of Christmas piano music for Gunnar, the strings followed along, and the holiday party lasted far longer than Joe had anticipated. He thought over what he wished to say, and analyzed how the clues he had strung together pointed directly to Sean Dermot. Accusing him of murder would again shatter Veronica's heart, but there was no way to shelter her from the truth. Sean had offered such tender sympathy, but it wasn't nearly enough to erase his guilt.
Near midnight, the waiters switched from serving champagne to hot chocolate and coffee. Matilda was yawning openly, but Mary Margaret urged her to stay awake just a little while longer.
Constance circled the room, first thanking the Philharmonic members, and then the women Joe had invited to come, guiding them toward the front door. With Gunnar's help, Veronica and Sean remained later than the others. They sat close together on the sofa, holding hands.
"I didn't think I could ever attend another party," Veronica murmured. "Maybe it was the Christmas music, but I feel better than I have in many days."
"How sweet of you to say so," Constance sat down beside her. Gunnar stood behind the sofa, close enough to lend Joe support if need be.
Mary Margaret and her mother found chairs, and perhaps hoping to be the last to leave, Paloma Val Verde sat near them. Despite the lateness of the hour, the roses in her hair were still fresh.
Joe pulled up a chair, closing the circle of remaining guests. "Thank you, Constance, this has been a wonderful evening, but your guests were invited under false pretenses."
"Weren't we here to remember Matteo?" Paloma asked.
"Yes, of course, you were," Joe replied. "But the real purpose of tonight, was to discover who wanted him dead."
Veronica gasped and sat forward. "You've discovered who she is?"
Joe nodded. "I believe I have, but the photograph I showed everyone of someone fleeing Matteo's apartment house convinced us all a woman had killed him. It was what the murderer wished us to believe. After a careful investigation, I've come to the conclusion it was a man wearing stilettos and your fur coat and hat."
"My furs?" Veronica appeared bewildered. She clutched Sean's hand. "How did they come to be here in Los Angeles rather than in my closet?"
"A man you knew visited New York. He took them while you were out, and brought them here. He also picked the lock on my office door. He took cards with suspects' names, which I quickly replaced, but in doing so, he gave himself away for the burglary at your home."
Sean's expression hadn't changed. He appeared interested in Joe's commentary, but if he felt threatened, he hid it well. "You're seeing all this in the photo you showed us?"
"Yes. It's like working a jigsaw puzzle when you lack the picture on the lid of the box. When you get enough of the pieces together, you recognize what it is."
"I'll never wear another fur," Veronica murmured.
"I don't blame you," Constance agreed. "What more have you discovered, Joe?"
He stood, and moved behind his chair. "Premeditated murders are committed for a variety of reasons, financial gain, or just plain greed. Sometimes it's to hide a dangerous secret. A fierce rivalry can erupt between former friends, let's say over whose name goes on a patent for an invention. A lust for revenge can lead to murder. Jealousy is also a powerful motive, especially in a contest for a woman's love."
"I hate to say this in front of you, Veronica," Sean began, "but Matteo was involved with so many women, there must be dozens of men who wanted to eliminate him as a rival for their sweetheart or wife's love."
"But how many had access to Veronica's coat and hat?" Matilda asked.
"Excellent question," Joe complimented. "Her furs were purposely used to fool Matteo. If he had any time to think after the first blow, he must have thought Veronica wished him dead."
"Oh no," Veronica cried. "I loved him dearly, and I'd never hurt him." A fresh flood of tears welled up in her eyes.
Joe waited for her to realize Sean had been in New York the last time she'd worn her furs, and whether it was professional jealousy, or a desperate love for her, he had multiple motives for murder. Instead, she went off on a tangent.
"I refuse to believe I'm in any way involved in my darling Matteo's death. Maybe someone stole my furs to trick him, but it couldn't have had anything to do with me. I don't care whether it was a man, or a woman in the photograph, I just want to go home."
Sean rose and offered Veronica his hand. "Thank you, Miss Remson, up until the last few minutes, this has been a wonderful evening. Thank you for inviting us."
Constance walked them to the door, and quickly returned to the living room. "Has Sean been in New York recently?"
"In October, when Veronica's furs went missing," Joe confirmed.
"Sean killed Matteo?" Paloma leaped from her chair. "Why didn't you keep him here and call the police?"
"They prefer evidence to theories, no matter how logical," Joe responded.
"Veronica may be oblivious, but if Sean still has her furs, he'll get rid of them tonight," Mary Margaret surmised.
"Constance, do you have home addresses for members of the Philharmonic?" Joe asked.
"As a matter of fact I do. Let me get them." She hurried into the study and returned with several neatly typed pages. "I have these to mail the board's holiday cards."
Joe thanked her. "Sean will take Ve
ronica home first, so if we hurry, we can reach his place first. He won't be able to toss out any evidence tying him to the murder without our seeing him do so. Why don't you come with me, Gunnar? Mary Margaret, will you please call a taxi to take you and your mother home. How did you get here, Paloma?"
"In a taxi, but I don't want to be left out."
Constance stepped forward. "I don't want to be left out either. If Paloma comes with me, we can also watch Sean's apartment building. We can take the front entrance while you and Gunnar watch the back."
"I don't want to go home now the evening has gotten so exciting," Matilda declared. "Let's go with them, Mary Margaret."
"I don't need to be asked twice," she answered.
"Yes, do come with us," Constance invited.
Joe shook his head. "That's a really bad idea, but I don't have time to argue with you. Sean's address looks like an apartment building. When we get there, we can decide who parks where and what signals we might use."
"We understand," Mary Margaret promised. "What if Sean carries out a bag, puts it in his car trunk, and drives off? Shouldn't we all follow him?"
"Let's work on our strategy once we get there," Joe stressed.
Constance took another look at the address list. "I know the street, and we're only a few minutes away."
One of the valets was still working, and he brought Joe's car to the front right away. Joe tipped him and got behind the wheel.
"I'd really hoped the evening would end differently."
Gunnar moved back the front passenger seat to allow room for his long legs. "I've found people tend to be unpredictable. That's why we rehearse every piece of music until we can nearly play it backwards. Sean may have had a motive," he added, "but he's such a mild-mannered man, it's difficult to imagine him pulling off a murder. How do you know the furs the murderer wore were Veronica's?"
"I've no facts to back it up, but when I showed people the photo, those who knew Veronica thought it was her. So Matteo must have too."
