A Knight at the Opera Read Free Page A

getting awfully restless."
    Stone stared at him. "What do you mean?"
    "We've been keeping everyone from leaving."
    "Why the hell would you be doing that?"
    Johnson gestured toward me. "He suggested that we shouldn't let anyone leave
until the police said it was okay."
    The color rose in Stone's face and his jaw jutted out angrily. "He suggested that?"
He glared at me but spoke to Johnson. "You mean he was impersonating an officer?"
    "No," Johnson said, coming to my defense. "I understood that he's just a private
citizen."
    "He's more than a private citizen. He's a public pain in the ass." He turned to me.
"Why the hell would I want to keep everyone here?"
    I met his stare. "Good old Inspector Javert. I thought you might want to conduct
an investigation. But I should have known better. You prefer to leap to unsupported
conclusions and--"
    Stone balled his hands into fists and planted his feet, apparently intending to let
fly with his right hand. I steeled myself in a defensive position.
    Swain grabbed his arm. "No, Joe!"
    Stone froze, and remained in that position for a full thirty seconds. Then he
backed off and growled between his teeth, "It's time for you to go home, Larsen."
    I shrugged. "Suit yourself." In my mind, I substituted a different word for
"suit."
    Swain said. "Someone will contact you on Monday, to arrange to take your
statement. Just routine procedure."
    "I'm afraid it will be short," I said ruefully. "And not very helpful. It's the people
who were sitting near him that you're going to want to interview."
    Swain nodded.
    As Maurice and I turned away, I realized we had a problem. The brunette was
sticking with him like a fly on flypaper. She was probably in her late twenties, with sad eyes
and a long, regal neck. It was obvious from her mannerisms and speech pattern that she
was educated. My guess was an MBA.
    "Man, I'm starved," he said. "Do you want to grab a late snack?"
    "I was thinking the same thing." I knew he understood what "same thing" I was
referring to. And he seemed to have no problem with her tagging along.
    She said, "I hope you don't think me too forward, but would you mind if I joined
you? My treat, of course. It's the least I can do. Somehow, I don't feel much like going
home."
    "No problem," he said. He held out a hand. "I'm Maurice White."
    She took his hand. "My name is Robin." She didn't supply a last name. "I'm sorry
about those awful names I called you." With her other arm, she reached up and touched his
cheek. "And what I did." In what was obviously an afterthought, she turned to me. "And you
are...?"
    "Adam Larsen."
    She didn't offer a hand, mostly because she was still holding Maurice's. "I've
heard your name before," she said. "You're a lawyer. I've seen your picture in the Clarion ."
    "Much to my discomfort. So, where to?"
    Maurice said, "How about Cyrano's?" He added for Robin's benefit, "It's about
three blocks from here. In the Hotel Cortese."
    "Sure, why not? That's a nice hotel."
    The area outside the performing arts center was buzzing with activity. Some
people were milling around and others were crowded around the elevators that serviced
the parking garage. The weather had been moderate for April, and the evening was crisp,
but not uncomfortably cold. No one showed any interest in us as we headed north and
walked in silence through the spring night. There were things I wanted to discuss with
Maurice, but they would have to wait.
    Cyrano's was crowded, but not so much that we had to wait for a table. I told the
maitre'd, "Three for dinner."
    He bowed slightly. "This way, please." He led us along the plush carpet, past the
bar, to a booth in a corner of the room. "Will this be suitable?"
    "Sure," Maurice said. Robin slid into the booth, and he settled in next to her. I
positioned myself across from them. A waiter came, and we ordered drinks. I had my usual
scotch and water, and Maurice asked for a Heineken. Robin ordered a dry martini, with
extra olives. We also selected an