Monday, December 13
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Drayco looked over at his father with his arm wrapped in a sling. Even though it was two days since the incident at the old resort, he could tell Brock’s pain level was still pretty high.
“It’s only a bad sprain. Could have been a lot worse.” Brock gave Drayco a sideways glance. “Your shoulder any better?”
“I’m fine. Let’s go have you meet my diva client, shall we?”
Drayco had called ahead, and the driveway gate buzzed open as they arrived. Aria D’Angelo welcomed them inside her house with a big smile as Drayco introduced his father.
She said, “So, you’ve solved it all. I’m dying to hear the details.” She paused before adding, “And I guess you found the yellow diamond.”
Drayco and Aria took seats opposite one another. But Brock started walking around the room, looking at all the opera paraphernalia and concentrating on the photos. He picked one up. “Is this the Queen of the Night from The Magic Flute?”
“Why, yes, it is. I suppose it’s what I was best known for. Most sopranos have a signature role, of course.” She sighed. “Thank you for coming today, by the way. My poor, dear, sweet Ezra. I just can’t believe he’s gone. And I was shocked to hear that he of all people was behind Graham’s death.”
Drayco replied, “Yes. Although he had help.”
“Oh?” Aria rearranged herself among the pillows that surrounded her on the sofa.
“The sister of one of the other men killed was involved.”
“That’s horrible. To kill your own brother that way.”
Brock said, “Isn’t it, though? Like an operatic plot.”
She seemed unable to get comfortable. She hopped up, grabbed Drayco’s arm, and pulled him toward her Bösendorfer piano. “This should be a celebration of sorts, shouldn’t it? I have the sheet music for ‘Porgi, Amor’ on the piano. You must play while I sing.”
Drayco half-fell onto the piano bench as he looked over at Brock, who gave him a knowing smile. Drayco asked Aria, “I’m curious why you called the University of Maryland to change the repertoire for my audition.”
“I know a few people over there, and I merely believed it would help. Playing some of the greatest hits is a great way to wow the audience. When you only have one chance to make an impression, you must make it count.”
Maybe she did “know a few people” over there, but she still wasn’t admitting she’d made the call anonymously. Hubris, perhaps? He said, “It came as a bit of a shock.”
She waved her hand in the air. “You are more than up to the challenge. Now, let’s try this Mozart aria, shall we? I haven’t had an audience of my own in some time. One goes through withdrawal without it.”
Drayco sat down at the piano and accommodated her whim, grateful the piano reduction for the piece was simple and wouldn’t tax his arm or shoulder too much. For her part, Aria sang with clarity and hints of the beautiful bel canto lines that had once been the talk of the opera world.
When they finished, Brock attempted to applaud as best he could with his arm in the sling. She bowed to him.
Still sitting on the bench, Drayco said, “I’ve read many of your reviews. You were billed as one of the best actresses in opera.”
She bowed again. “And I was thrilled to hear it since that’s what they said about Maria Callas, no less.”
“I’m curious. When I first met you, and you cried for Graham, was that genuine emotion? Or were you playing another role?”
“What?” She put a hand to her throat. “I . . . don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“I guess it was our mutual love of music, how both our careers were cut short, and our shared situation of an opera house legacy that clouded my judgment. I should have been more objective from the start.”
“I’m sorry, I just . . . What?”
“The whole obsession with your legacy should have been a clue. The constant scraping for money to fund scholarships and opera houses and grants that will be named after you. My sympathy toward you kept me from seeing this obsession was so great, you were willing to allow people to get killed over it. As long as it meant getting funds for your grandiose plans.”
She stood ramrod straight and hauled herself up to her full five feet four. “That’s absurd. Are you accusing me of killing my own brother?”
“Ezra once told me it was women who’d ruined his life. Especially older women. At first, I thought he meant Connie Burdell Spanton since she’s ten years older, and perhaps he was. But Connie wasn’t the only one. Leon Sable also mentioned he’d heard a rumor Ezra was involved with someone I’d never expect. He wouldn’t say who but did indicate the age difference was shocking.”
Aria laughed and waved her hand in the air again. “But my dear boy, there are hundreds of millions of older women.”
Drayco closed the piano fallboard and leaned on it. “When I considered all the various players in this drama, the whole scheme felt disjointed. It didn’t seem likely Ezra and Connie Burdell, or even her brother, could have planned most of this.”
“Scott, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. But it does make for a very entertaining plot, doesn’t it? As you say, quite operatic.”
“In a way, it is, like the puppet master in Chinese opera. It made more sense if someone was coordinating everything. Pulling the strings.”
She stared at him. “Are you saying that person is me?”
“You were the central node of connection. Alec Van Sandt told Johnny Burdell about the diamond and his coded puzzles. Burdell told his sister, who in turn told her lover, Ezra Layton. And then Layton spilled the beans to his other lover, who happens to be his childhood friend’s much-older sister. You.”
This time, she was the one who applauded. “Such a grand story. You might write it down in a book. But it’s totally implausible, you know. As if I’d be involved with a deadly treasure hunt.”
Drayco gave her a small smile. “Funny thing, that. I never told you what the treasure was. But when we arrived, you asked me if I’d found the diamond. Even more specifically, a rare yellow diamond.”
“I just guessed, that’s all. What else would it be?”
“Something else funny, too. Ezra taped some of your phone conversations with him. I’m guessing it was a type of potential blackmail. Or safety net. Connie Burdell found those files and kept them, and they’re now safely in the hands of the police.”
Brock piped up from where he was still holding the Queen of the Night photo and parroted her own words. “That’s horrible. To kill your own brother that way.”
“The police have tapes?” Aria walked over to the sofa and sank onto the pillows. She grabbed one of them and picked at the fringe, twisting it around her fingers. “Then you should know that killing Graham wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know they were going to do it. It’s something Ezra and Connie planned together.”
Drayco asked, “Made easier because they’d already done it once? To Alec Van Sandt?”
She stopped playing with the pillow fringe and tossed the pillow aside. With her chin jutting out, she looked him directly in the eye. “I think I told you Graham and I always had a fractious relationship. He could be scary and threatening. But even so, his death was . . . regrettable.”
“And was Johnny Burdell’s death regrettable, too?”
She sucked in air between her teeth. “He was going to go to the police—to you—and blab about everything.”
“How did you get Ezra Layton to agree to your plans to have him find the diamond and steal it for you? Didn’t you worry he’d take the treasure for himself?”
“I told him I’d pay him good money for it. I could sell it under the table due to my connections, but he couldn’t. You can’t simply go out and shop those around. You have to know the right people who will do it behind the scenes.”
“A lot of blood’s been spilled over that diamond.”
At the mention of the diamond, her eyes took on shimmering glints of their own. “Did you bring it? I’d love to see it. Just once.”
The sound of car doors slamming in the front driveway caught their attention, and Brock looked out the window. “Looks like the police are here. And so is Sarg. Did you ask him to come along?”
Drayco shook his head. “But this case has international implications. Maybe the police decided they had to drag in the Bureau.”
Brock let the officers through the door and nodded over at Aria, who stood up and meekly allowed them to escort her to a waiting squad car. But right before she disappeared, she turned around with a wistful look toward Drayco. “I suppose this means you won’t be naming your opera house after me.”
Drayco replied, “I haven’t decided on a name yet.”
Her face bloomed into a smile, and she left with the officers. Brock said, “You aren’t really going to . . . .”
“Who knows? Right now, I’m thinking of just calling the thing Generic Opera House.”
Sarg bounded into the room, taking a moment to appraise Brock. “You look pretty good for an almost-dead man.”
Brock grinned and pointed with his good arm at Drayco. “Helps to have a quick-thinking son.”
Sarg barked out some commands to a couple of agents about combing through the house, and what to look for, then he turned back to Drayco. “An opera singer as a killer. Didn’t see that one coming.”
Drayco grimaced. “Technically, not a killer, since she just oversaw the whole thing. The irony is she did all of this to get her hands on a bunch of money so she could be remembered as she thought she deserved.”
Sarg chuckled. “She’ll be remembered, all right. For something else entirely.”
“’Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen.’ ” Drayco hopped up from the piano bench.
“What’s that?”
Brock explained, “It’s the ‘Queen of the Night’ aria for which our diva Aria was well known. ‘Hell’s vengeance boils in my heart.’ ”
Drayco added, “That was another clue. Ezra Layton wrote in his suicide note the words, ‘Death and despair blaze about me.’ That’s the second line from that same song. Why would he have included that particular reference? It didn’t make any sense, especially after he told me he hated opera. Unless he couldn’t bring himself to point the finger at Aria directly.”
Sarg said, “A sort of subconscious confession?”
“Perhaps. He knew police would find a money trail from Aria to him, his so-called inheritance. The walls were closing in, and he was adamant about not wanting to go back to prison.”
“That’s really mucked up, from every angle.” Sarg tilted his head at Drayco. “But speaking of music and confessionals, you didn’t tell me how your audition went, junior.”
Drayco sighed. “Not well.”
Brock finally put down the photos of Aria and patted Drayco’s arm. “You can try again.”
“I don’t think so. We worked out a compromise instead.”
“What kind of compromise?”
“To have students in the music school play some of my compositions.”
Brock and Sarg said in unison, “You’re a composer?”
Drayco winced. “I’ve been dabbling.”
Brock brightened. “Well, I’ll be. You gotta let me know the dates, and I’ll clear my calendar.”
Drayco could only stare at him. All those years of Brock being AWOL during Drayco’s concerts, and all the times Drayco peered out into the audience hoping to see Brock or Drayco’s mother—but all he saw were empty front-row seats reserved for family. Yet Brock wanted to come now?
Sarg said, “Let me know, too.” And then he tugged on his ear. “So, what’s the final story about that diamond?”
Drayco chewed on his lip and stayed silent. Brock gave him a sideways glance and said, “It’s too bad the diamond probably fell into the ocean along with a chunk of the house, right?”
Drayco just uttered, “Hmm.” He looked around the room again, taking in the collected memorabilia of a lifetime of performing. “I’m not sure Aria planned on this being her final act.”
Sarg asked, “Insanity, perhaps? Dementia?”
“More like she lives in a fantasyland of her past. She wanted to cement her legacy out of jealousy over how others got more love and accolades than she did.”
Sarg tugged on his earlobe. “I’ve got my money on psychopathy. There’s heaps of that going around in this case of yours. She kills her brother, and that Burdell woman does the same to her brother. And the second-rate Bonnie and Clyde mow down that resort owner just because he caught them breaking into his house.”
Drayco replied, “After Detective Halabi questioned Connie Burdell, he called her one of the coldest, most calculating criminals he’d ever seen—no sense of morals or ethics whatsoever.”
Sarg grimaced. “Like I said, psychopathy.” He looked from Brock to Drayco and added, “Guess it’s good that cursed diamond was lost. It’s caused enough bloodshed.”