Shadows of Sounds Read Free

of the corridor, pushed through another two sets of swing doors and entered an open area that had a low ceiling and no windows. Lorimer saw with some relief that it was already full of uniformed policemen. Some were behind hastily erected trestle tables and taking statements from the musicians who were still in evening dress. A couple of officers from his own Division looked up as he came in, acknowledging his presence with a nod.
    ‘They’ve set up their stuff in here,’ said Trish. ‘It’s where the Chorus and musicians usually assemble just before they go on stage. Mr Phillips should be around somewhere. Oh, there he is,’ she told him, just as a figure in dark tails approached them.
    Lorimer’s first impression of Brendan Phillips was of a slight, rather dapper man whose smooth, boyish face belied his age. He was probably in his late thirties, Lorimer reckoned. Not much younger than himself.
    ‘Chief Inspector, thank goodness you’re here,’ BrendanPhillips seemed on the point of reaching out to take Lorimer by the hand, but after one look at the policeman’s face, the Orchestra Manager’s hand fell to his side. Trish, Lorimer noticed, had vanished discreetly.
    ‘The Doctor said you would want to go straight to the dressing room. Where the body is,’ Phillips added in deliberately hushed tones. Lorimer followed the man out of the claustrophobic room. Round a corner, they emerged onto the entrance to the stage.
    The auditorium was brightly lit and there were full spots still directed onto the stage itself. Both, mercifully, were empty. Lorimer followed the Orchestra Manager across the front of the stage, skirting the music stands and the Conductor’s podium. Several instruments were lying in their cases on the pale, varnished floor. Lorimer had to squeeze past a large harp as Phillips took him towards the stair leading to the other stage exit. He noted a booth with a board full of controls and a close circuit television that showed the empty stage. His policeman’s eyes also took in the CCTV cameras angled at regular intervals from the ceiling.
    ‘Who found the body?’ Lorimer asked.
    When Phillips turned back to answer, Lorimer noticed that he didn’t meet his eyes.
    ‘I did,’ he replied. ‘It’s my responsibility to ensure that all the performers are on stage in time. It’s customary to fetch the Leader and the Principals personally from their dressing rooms. It’s part of my job,’ he added with a sigh that seemed to come from his well-polished shoes.
    The Orchestra Manager walked on as he spoke. Round a corner they came to another, smaller assembly area.
    The regulation incident tape had been fastened acrossan opening to the left. Phillips stopped and gestured towards an open door leading to a corridor on their right. It was parallel, Lorimer noticed, to another corridor that disappeared into darkness, its ceiling lowered by massive metal tubing. Rows of open fiddle cases lined a shelf on one side.
    ‘These are the Artistes’ dressing rooms. The first one, Lomond, is for our conductor. Morar is where …’ he broke off uncertainly.
    ‘Where you found the body,’ Lorimer finished for him. ‘And then you called Security, I take it?’
    ‘Yes,’ the man looked thoroughly miserable now, no doubt recalling the event that would give him nightmares for weeks. Lorimer nodded briefly and headed for the second room along the corridor that had been reserved for the late Leader of Glasgow Concert Orchestra.
    ‘Well, hello there, stranger,’ a blonde head turned to look up at him as Lorimer stepped carefully into the room.
    ‘Ah, Rosie,’ Lorimer grinned back at the pixie face below him. Doctor Rosie Fergusson, Lorimer’s favourite pathologist, was on her knees beside the body, her diminutive frame wrapped inside a clean white boiler suit.
    ‘I’ll just wait out here, shall I?’ Phillips called out, hovering in the doorway.
    Lorimer frowned but before he could speak, Rosie answered for him,