Carol felt herself softening as she looked at him. He had her fair hair and green eyes, but his father’s sturdy build. “She’s staying down at her house at the beach. When I spoke to her this morning she asked you and Aunt Sarah to go down for lunch. I have to go in to work, but I’ll drive you down and pick you up later this afternoon.”
“Can I go swimming?”
“Of course not,” said Aunt Sarah. “It’s far too cold. But we can try fishing, if you like. Have you got a line for me?” As David went off to find the fishing tackle he always left at Carol’s place, she said, “Carol, don’t take this so seriously. I left your uncle at least three times.”
“You’re making that up.”
Aunt Sarah frowned. “Are you calling your closest relative a liar?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” said Carol, grinning.
Sybil looked relaxed in a black track suit that emphasized the red of her hair. She welcomed David and Aunt Sarah with warmth, Carol with more restraint.
“I’ve told Aunt Sarah the situation.”
Sybil said with certainty, “She won’t take sides, Carol.”
Carol was immediately indignant. “I wouldn’t ask her to.”
Driving into the city, she wondered if that was true. What would she feel if her aunt said to her that Sybil was right, and that Carol must change? Thought was unprofitable-she felt baffled and angry. She walked into her office with a feeling of relief that she could slip into the role she played best.
Mark Bourke had just come into her office when the phone rang to announce that Kenneth Raeburn was waiting to see her.
He entered full of soft smiles. “Inspector Ashton, I do appreciate you seeing me.”
Introducing him to Bourke, she was again reminded of an aggressive bantam rooster. Bourke was much taller and more substantial, so Raeburn swelled his chest, stood almost on tiptoes, shook hands emphatically, then stepped away so that the height difference was not so obvious. “You’d like me to sit here, Inspector?”
Carol waited until both men were seated, then said, “I interviewed Alanna Brooks last night.”
“A very fine soprano. Collis thought the world of her.”
“She says she believes you were trying to persuade her to say that the book on euthanasia in the hotel room actually belongs to her. That it wasn’t your son’s at all.”
He was dressed in a dark blue suit and red tie. He picked an imaginary speck from the lapel as he said, “Alanna, of course, is mistaken. I didn’t try to persuade her of anything at all. We did, however, mention the handbook.”
“You saw her just before the performance of Aïda.”
“Yes?” His tone was polite.
“It was opening night, so hardly the time for an informal chat. Why did you want to see her?”
His soft voice became hostile. “I can’t imagine what this has to do with your investigation, but if you must know, I wanted her to tell me how Collis was when she last saw him.”
Carol glanced at Bourke, who said, “It’s almost a week since your son died, yet this is the first time you speak to Alanna Brooks?”
“Well, no. She rang me to offer her condolences earlier, but I felt I needed to see her face-to-face.”
Bourke was unimpressed. “It wasn’t a very convenient time, just before a major performance.”
Raeburn reddened. “My son is dead! Whether it’s convenient or inconvenient is of no interest to me.”
It was Carol’s turn. “Were Collis and Alanna Brooks lovers?”
“Years ago, when they were starting out-yes. But never after that. Besides, Collis was interested in Corinne Jawalski.” Anticipating the next question, he said so softly that Carol had to listen intently, “I don’t know if they were lovers. You’ll have to ask Corinne.”
“Ms Brooks says that you favored Corinne as a singing partner for your son.”
“This is of no importance now, but I was looking to the future. I believe Corinne will reach the very top.”
Bourke opened a folder. “Edward Livingston told us Alanna Brooks was a bankable star who could be guaranteed to pull the fans. Considering the financial state of your family company, wouldn’t it be wiser to stay with the tried and true?”
Raeburn seemed to be expanding with arrogant anger. His neck bulged over his tight white collar. “What have you got there? What have you been prying into?”
Bourke passed him the papers without a word.
Raeburn leafed through them, then said, “All right. There’s a temporary cash flow problem. Nothing to worry about, as it’s only short-term.”
Pursing his lips, Bourke said, “Your son know about it? Could have preyed on his mind if he did…”
“He wasn’t interested in the financial side of things. Left everything to me. As I said, it was a short-term problem anyway.”
“I’ve had an accountant look these papers over,” said Bourke cheerfully. “Says you were up the creek without a paddle…”
Madeline called as Carol and Bourke were reviewing the case. “Carol, could you drop in on your way home? Something’s happened you should know.”
“Can you tell me on the telephone?”
“No, I can’t. I’ll be here all afternoon, so call by any time.”
“Madeline Shipley,” said Carol in explanation as she replaced the receiver. “I’ll call you if she’s got anything important.”
“We’ve still got nothing on the photo, but it’s Saturday night when the boys come out to play, so I’ve got a couple of men checking the bars in Oxford Street.” He grinned. “Not being sexist, Carol, but this is a man’s job.”
Carol leaned her chin on her hands. “Okay, let’s get this over and done with, and we can both go home.”
He passed her a neatly ruled sheet. “Time of death is so vague that it seems almost any of his nearest and dearest could have helped him on his way, not to mention his enemies.” They went down the list together, stopping to discuss each one.
Kenneth and Nicole Raeburn had agreed that they were both at home most of Saturday and Sunday. “They’d alibi each other, anyway,” said Bourke, “so that means very little.”
“Motives?”
“Kenneth Raeburn’s in real financial trouble, and rumors persist that his son was about to dump him, audit the company and then bring in a professional manager. A verdict of accidental death will get him Collis’s eight hundred thousand insurance, the embarrassment of HIV hushed up and the company assets to play with.” He made a face. “As for his sister, strikes me she’s nuts about her brother, in more ways than one. Still, the way he died seems too disciplined for her-she’s the sort who’d lose her marbles, shove him off a building and then say, Ooops, he slipped…”
Corinne Jawalski had claimed to be at the Town Hall in the audience for Elijah, although, as Anne Newsome had pointed out, she had plenty of time to go to Collis Raeburn’s room and then return before the end of the oratorio.
“How about bitter pique for a motive?” said Bourke. “She thinks she’s got head diva sewn up, then he reneges and says he’s staying with Alanna and it’s just too bad for her.”
“Doesn’t seem enough motive for a murder.”
“How about,” said Bourke grimly, “he infected her with AIDS? Wouldn’t that be a reason to kill him?”
Graeme Welton was working alone all weekend on final touches to Dingo and had ignored phone calls, so he had no alibi. Bourke was jocular. “Welton’s a friend of Nicole’s, though God knows what’s in it for him. Maybe he killed her brother on her behalf to save daddy’s bacon, as well as to punish Collis for saying his new opera was going to go belly up.”
His smile faded when Carol said, “He had a sexual relationship with Raeburn, and we don’t know what his HIV status is…”
On Saturday night Edward Livingston had been at the Opera House gladhanding a group of society matrons who formed the influential fund-raising committee of a national charity. The cocktail party had ended with a harpsichord recital starting at eight in the tiny Playhouse Theater. “Livingston would have had no probs,” said Bourke. “He could have slipped out, walked to the hotel, dealt with Raeburn, then been back in time to smile at the ladies as they trotted off into the night.”