Chapter Four
“I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to see you again,” David said, smiling broadly as he ushered Sean McGill into his apartment.
“The pleasure is equally mine,” replied Sean, slipping off his coat and depositing it on a nearby chair. “Although I have seen you more recently than you think. I caught a glimpse of you at the last conservatory concert a few weeks ago.”
“You did? Well, I wish you had come up to me and said something.”
“I looked for you at the reception afterward but you were pretty busy shaking hands.”
“Yes, I’m sure I was. I’m not really a faculty member, you know. I only work in the Outreach program. But I’m enough of a faculty member that I have to show up at these things and greet the community.”
Sean nodded. “I understand perfectly. But I’m assuming you do enjoy it…teaching in the Outreach program.”
“Oh, of course. Not a lot of brilliant students, maybe. But definitely some earnest ones. And that counts for a lot. How about you? Are you still enjoying your life as a policeman…or ‘detective’ now, I guess it is?”
“Well, I’ve been a policeman for almost three years but a detective for less than a month. But the answer to the question is, yes, I’m enjoying it.”
“Solved any tough cases yet?” David asked, trying to suppress a grin.
“Remember, I’m just a newbie detective. I don’t have a lot of autonomy yet…or authority. Mostly I’ve been making phone calls and following up on alibis for some of the senior detectives in my branch.”
“You know, I’ve got to ask this,” David said, urging Sean into the only comfortable seat in his apartment. “Do you miss singing? I mean, we both studied music for years and years and it seems a shame not to…”
“It’s not a shame at all,” Sean replied quickly. “Not everyone was made for a life in music. Not everyone has the talent to be a professional performer in music.”
“But you were always one of the top…” began David.
“No, I wasn’t. You don’t have to re-write history just to be polite. I was a good singer, but I was not a great singer. Never one of the best in my studio. But I still sing. I’m in a couple of amateur choral groups, although with my haphazard schedule it’s obvious that I’m going to miss some rehearsals now and then.”
“So you don’t miss it?”
“I didn’t say that. But the little singing I do keeps me pleasantly amused. And besides, I’m not really a singer anymore. I’m a Philadelphia policeman. And now I’m a detective and I’m looking forward to becoming the best one I can be.”
“Terrific! I think it’s great. It’s not as if my life has worked out in quite the way I hoped it would.”
“You seem to be doing okay.”
“Oh, I am…I am. I was doing well enough for a while. Entering a few competitions, although not winning many. But then my hands…you know.”
“I’d heard that your hands were giving you trouble,” Sean said sympathetically.
“Yes, trouble. Well, they just don’t do what they’re supposed to do all the time. Do you have any problems like that?”
“You mean with my voice? It’s not what it was, of course. When you stop practicing, you lose facility. But it’s alright for what I do with it. Remember, I’m a detective now.”
“Of course and—believe it or not—that’s one of the reasons I invited you over.”
Sean sighed audibly. “Yes, of course. I expected something like that.”
David flinched slightly. “Oh, please don’t misunderstand. It’s really just the excuse I needed to look you up.”
Sean smiled. “I understand perfectly. Now what’s on your mind?”
“First, you need a glass of wine,” David said, rising slowly to his feet. “I want you to know that I’ve become quite the connoisseur of incredibly cheap wines. It’s something I decided to do on my twenty-seventh birthday and I want you to know that I’ve already achieved some mastery on the subject.”
“But only incredibly cheap wines,” Sean said, a bemused grin crossing his face.
“Of course,” David said gaily. “In this day and age you’ve got to specialize to get ahead in this world.” David quickly poured two glasses of red wine and brought one to Sean.
David lifted his glass ceremoniously. “To our dear Alma Mater.”
“To Leonard Conservatory,” said Sean solemnly, lifting his glass in return.
“It just so happens,” said David, taking his seat on a somewhat lumpy sofa across from Sean, “that this little problem I have is really the little problem of another alum, Jeremy West. Perhaps you remember him.”
“Can’t say that I do,” replied Sean. “But then again, as a singer, I occupied a different universe. I probably would never have met you if you hadn’t accompanied my junior recital at the conservatory.”
“That’s probably true, I’m afraid,” David said, nodding his head gently and smiling. “Well, this friend of mine, Jeremy, has apparently discovered a unique manuscript. Did so when he was in London on a recent trip. He found—in an old, going-out-of-business used book shop—a manuscript by none other than Ludwig van Beethoven.”
“You’re kidding. I didn’t think there were any of those still floating around.”
“This is a very special one. The manuscript is in a copyist’s hand but Jeremy insists that there’s no doubt the piece is by Beethoven himself. He says there are several remarks written on the pages, in the margins and that sort of thing, in Beethoven’s handwriting that make it clear that the work is actually by him, even though the musical notation itself was written by the copyist.”
“Amazing! And is this one of Beethoven’s more famous pieces?”
“No. It’s an unknown piece. But if this manuscript is real, it could become one of Beethoven’s most famous pieces ever.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the top of the manuscript—Jeremy only brought me the first two pages to look at— it says ‘Symphony No. 9.’”
“So this is an unknown copy of Beethoven’s ninth symphony, with his annotations? That is big.”
“No. It’s not the famous Beethoven’s ninth symphony. It’s a different symphony, labeled number nine, by Beethoven.”
“Two ninth symphonies? I’m not sure I’m following you here.”
“Apparently Jeremy has stumbled across an amazing find. This seems to be a symphony that Beethoven composed after he wrote the eighth symphony but before he wrote the famous ninth symphony that we all know today.”
“In between the two? But why hasn’t anyone heard about this?”
“Because he presumably decided against publishing it or even having it performed. In fact, he seems to have gone out of his way to suppress it.”
Sean frowned, lowering his wine glass to the coffee table in front of him. “Why on earth would he do that?”
David lowered his glass as well. “Who knows? I haven’t had a good look at this work but even the first two pages seem kind of strange. It doesn’t really look like any other Beethoven composition I’ve ever seen. Perhaps it was an experiment gone wrong. Perhaps he decided that the world wasn’t ready for what he had composed.”
“Or perhaps it’s not by Beethoven at all.”
“But Jeremy absolutely insists it is. He says that the comments in the margins in the first two pages, which he firmly believes are written by Beethoven, prove that it is.”
“Wow! That would be something! But what exactly is the problem? Do you think that Jeremy is way off base on this? That he’s jumping to conclusions?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know. Jeremy swore that he’d get some expert to look at the manuscript and confirm his theory before he takes this any farther.”
“So what’s stopping him?”
“What’s stopping him is that the first two pages of the manuscript which he showed me—just yesterday—have apparently been stolen.”
“Stolen? How?”
“While his back was turned picking up a cappuccino at a coffee shop, somebody lifted it—along with the rest of his knapsack— and walked out the door.”
“And he’s searched for it?”
“Sure. He figured that a casual thief, discovering he had picked up nothing more than an old music manuscript, would toss it away at the first chance. But so far, nothing.”
Sean nodded. “So he called the police?”
“No. Not yet. He doesn’t think the police will take him seriously.”
“I can see why he thinks that. Any suspects? I mean, could it be anybody he knows…somebody who realizes how valuable something like this could be?”
“He did inform a couple of people. One lives in Philly and the other will be arriving back here in a day or two. We’re going to talk to them as soon as we can. Oh, also his girlfriend, Melissa. He probably told her as well.”
“His girlfriend? Is she a musical type?”
“Not that I know of. But I’ve not really met her. I’m going to see her tomorrow night at Jeremy’s apartment.”
“Okay. Well I guess you should let me know what happens when you talk to the other people who know about this.”
David looked briefly at the floor. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do.”
“First of all, I’d say that Jeremy should report this to the police. It’s true that they’re not going to organize a major search party for a missing, maybe-famous manuscript, but who knows? Somebody may run into something. And I’ll keep my ears open. Please remember, I’m by far the most junior detective in the department and I don’t usually even get to pick what cases I’m going to be assigned to. But like I said, I’ll keep my ears open. And I’ll wait to see if you and Jeremy come up with something else.”
“That’s all anybody can ask,” said David. “I’m grateful.”
Sean stood up to leave. “And on a completely unrelated note, you mentioned Jeremy’s girlfriend. Whatever happened to your once-in-a-while girlfriend, Elizabeth?”
“I have seen Elizabeth off and on for the last couple of years. But she moves around a lot. Unlike me, she has a real career as a pianist. But I’m expecting her back in Philadelphia soon…any day now.”
“Well, that’s terrific. Say hello to her for me.”
“I will. And I can’t thank you enough for helping us out with this problem.”
“I haven’t done anything yet and I’m not sure that I can. But keep me posted.”