McGill shuddered as he ducked in to the little coffeehouse. The temperature had dropped almost five degrees within the hour and the wind was getting nasty. If this indicated that winter was going to hold on a little longer, he was far from enthusiastic about it.
“There he is! Philadelphia’s finest!” Elizabeth called out from her table nestled in one of the cozier corners of the small, somewhat dark room.
Sean rolled his eyes and smiled as he walked quickly over to where Elizabeth and David were sitting, each cradling a cappuccino.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet up with me,” Sean said, pulling up the third chair at their little table. “I’ve got almost an hour before my next interview appointment and I wanted to pick your collective brains a little before that.”
“Always happy to be of service,” said a smiling David. “But I’ve got to admit that things have gotten a lot more serious all of a sudden. Poor Hauptmann. Why in the world would anyone want to kill an aging conductor?”
“Who seems to have had no enemies that anyone knows anything about,” added Elizabeth.
Sean nodded his head. “Yes, everyone I’ve talked to so far makes a point of that. But really, what man in rising so high in his profession doesn’t make a few enemies on the way?”
“Maybe when he was back in Europe,” said David, “but really, I don’t see who could feel threatened by him at this stage in his career. I mean, he’s actually retired twice now, and he was just going to come out of retirement briefly this time to conduct the last two concerts of the current season.”
“Or was he?” Sean asked. “How can we be sure that, once back on the podium, he wouldn’t feel inspired enough to come back in earnest and maybe even replace Loreen Stenke for next year’s season?”
“Really?” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “What makes you think that would be a possibility? The speeches at the reception the other night seemed emphatic enough on the point that Stenke would resume her place at the head of the orchestra next year.”
“Sure,” Sean said, “but those were just speeches at a PR event. You say those things now and you simply unsay them later. You go to Loreen Stenke and strongly suggest to her that she extends her maternity leave though next year as well. That, or be summarily released from her contract of course.”
“What a cynic you’ve become,” Elizabeth said, a thin smile crossing her face. “I see no reason why any of that would ever happen.”
David nodded in agreement. “And by setting up that scenario, you’re basically suggesting that Loreen Stenke became resentful of all of this backroom negotiating and bumped off Hauptmann just to guarantee her job next year. Really now…how likely is that?”
Sean grunted. “At this point I can’t worry too much about what is or isn’t ‘likely.’ I’ve got my hands full with what is or isn’t ‘possible.’ Besides, my scenario doesn’t necessarily mean that it was Loreen Stenke who pulled the trigger. It might even have been someone who was so loyal to her that he…”
“Or she,” Elizabeth interrupted.
“Or she…took matters in her own hands to guarantee that Stenke would be back as conductor of the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra next year.”
“And who exactly might these ‘loyalists” be?” asked David.
“I can’t say at this point. I’m just getting started. But I have to consider all the possibilities.”
“Who have you talked to so far?” David asked.
“I just finished speaking to Jonathan Clemens before coming here. A bit cold, I thought. Very analytical…surprisingly unemotional. Nothing too helpful, although he provided some interesting background.”
“I guess people react differently to a shock like this,” Elizabeth said sympathetically.
“I had met Alan Winston earlier,” Sean said. “He’s basically a stage and equipment manager as far as I can determine. I can never be sure he’s telling me everything on his mind, but he seemed very upset. He also seemed a little evasive to me, but my impression is that he was equally loyal to both Hauptmann and Stenke.”
“He was certainly loyal to Loreen Stenke,” David said. “I got the impression that he was following her around like a lovesick puppy dog the first couple of months she was here.”
“Really?” Sean said.
“That’s what I heard,” David said. “But apparently the infatuation seemed to have run its course to some extent. I don’t know…maybe Loreen said something to him. At any rate, he seems to be admiring her from somewhat of a distance in recent months.”
“Very interesting,” Sean said, nodding his head gently.
“Who else have you spoken with?” Elizabeth asked.
“I met briefly with Hermann, the Maestro’s brother, but he was not terribly coherent. He, understandably, is extremely upset by the death of his brother. I also met with Linda Eggert, the secretary, earlier this morning. She was actually the one who called the police.”
David nodded. “Did she see anything?”
Sean shook his head. “She didn’t even see the body. She told me that Winston—who had arrived just minutes before she did— wouldn’t let her. He said it was too horrible for her to see.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “And I suppose it was?”
“Well, it wasn’t pretty. The gun had been fired at close range.”
David nodded. “So can we come to the obvious conclusion that the person in the room with him was someone he knew in order to get so close to him?”
Sean smiled. “I’m afraid not. He was shot in the back of the head and his desk was facing a wall on the other side of the room from the door. Someone might easily have entered the room quietly and dispatched Hauptmann without him even being aware of the presence of another human being. Hauptmann was at his desk, a score laid out in front of him. Apparently he was studying it and presumably lost in concentration.”
David shook his head. “You certainly don’t seem to have much to go on.”
“No, I don’t,” said Sean. “And yet the Chief Inspector is anxious that I wrap all this up in record time.”