Chapter 22

Cynthia woke up thinking about Edmond Sutherland, again wondering whether Nadine Wheaton’s comments should be taken seriously. When she got to the Roundhouse, she sat at a computer reading everything she could find on Sutherland. She saw a number of red flags and determined that he should be brought in for questioning. She had known the basics of his story, but reading the details in the police history brought up elements that she couldn’t ignore. She had an intense feeling of disgust at the thought that Wheaton might be right.

Edmond Sutherland was a tall, lanky violist on the faculty of the Curtis Institute of Music, in his early fifties, and considered a brilliant artist but one of the city’s legendary sad musical stories. A native Philadelphian, he had gone right through the city’s child prodigy route, and was destined, everybody assumed, to become the youngest violist appointed to the orchestra’s section. He counted on ultimately becoming principal violist.

When he was fourteen, and played his debut recital, the Philadelphia Herald-Examiner’s critic, Leonard David Ford, wrote a rave review, stating that “artistry of this sort has rarely been heard in someone so young.”

He was the golden boy of the Curtis Institute of Music, and at the age of 18 he auditioned for an opening to fill the spot of one of the orchestra’s retiring violists. It was almost certain that he would get the position, which he desperately wanted. After all, there wasn’t much solo work available to a violist. The young Sutherland did not want to join a string quartet, or form a chamber ensemble of his own. He needed, on a deep emotional level, the security of an orchestral position, and thought he could play chamber music or solos on the side, and could teach, as did most of the musicians he had ever encountered.

Edmond practiced for weeks to be ready for the audition. His renowned teacher drilled him until he could play his selected solo works, and the required orchestral excerpts, in his sleep. He prepared for 8 or 10 hours a day. On the day of his audition, he went in confident that he was as prepared as anyone could be. He wasn’t counting on competition from a 21-year old female violist who had just graduated from Juilliard. There were dozens auditioning for the position, but in the final round, it came down to a choice between Edmond and the young woman. He knew who she was and realized this would be a defining moment in his career. Edmond played brilliantly - yet the tension of the situation caused him to flub one passage (an excerpt from a Brahms symphony), and that was the kiss of death. He knew it the moment it happened. The job went to his competitor. Those ten seconds changed his life forever.

Edmond was only 18, so in most professions losing out on one job would hardly be the worst crisis, but for Edmond it was exactly that. He knew that he would be up for a teaching position at Curtis. His own teacher had already appointed him as his assistant, and it would only be a matter of time before he passed this position along to Edmond. Then, how could he leave Philadelphia for another orchestra? Teaching at Curtis was so important and prestigious that it would be impossible to give it up. Other institutions would have grabbed him up in a minute, but that wasn’t the way Edmond saw his life. He was rigid. He was a Philadelphian and saw no reason to leave the city. He was supposed to be in the Philadelphia Symphony and to teach at Curtis. Surely there would be another position in the orchestra within a year or two. It was an orchestra whose members stayed forever, but there were ten positions and at that point several of the violists were getting older. Edmond joked to one of his friends that maybe one of the section members could get hit by a bus.

He was 21, and well established as his teacher’s assistant at Curtis when the next opening occurred in the orchestra. Edmond had kept himself in wonderful playing condition, substituting often in the orchestra, playing in the city’s best-known chamber orchestra, the Philadelphia Ensemble, and making himself practice symphonic excerpts that he would select at random.

Once again, Edmond was among the last three finalists. This time, he knew one of them, a student of his own teacher at Curtis - a young Korean woman who had been at Curtis from the age of 15. She was 19 when she was encouraged to take the audition. The other entrant was a 35-year old man from England. Edmond played his best, but could not exceed the work of his female competitor. He knew that the orchestra committee that made such decisions along with the conductor would be on his side, but there was only so far they could go in swaying the decision.

Edmond’s life was more complicated than it had been three years earlier. Now he was teaching. He was also in a relationship with a young woman, a pianist who lived in the same building as Edmond. He was no longer able to practice ten hours a day. He was earning a living. He had a life.

Once again, he was a close second. This time he was not just devastated; he was furious. He told his girlfriend that he hoped his competitor would die. “If I weren’t such a coward,” he had said, “I would take care of it myself.” He began making anonymous threatening calls to the orchestra’s new violist, and when she had the calls traced and learned that it was Edmond, she refused to press charges, saying that she understood, and that “really he had deserved the job. I was just lucky that day.” That did not appease Edmond, but served to make him even more bitter that he hadn’t been chosen.

Amazingly, another decade passed without an opening in the section. One more violist did, in fact, retire at the age of 71, but the orchestra management made the decision not to fill the position. Another died under suspicious circumstances - the police called it a suicide although the evidence was inconclusive. Again, the position was not filled.

Most of the repertoire they played called for ten violists, and when a larger section was required, or when violists took time off, the orchestra used substitutes. Edmond was number one on the small list of favored substitutes, so he often found himself sitting at the back of a section filled with players who were not as good as he was.

Edmond was 30 when he took over the studio of his former teacher at Curtis, and 31 when he was assigned a young viola student named Elaine Sobel, then 19. Edmond was immediately smitten with the talent and beauty of the young woman, and it did not take more than a few months before they were dating. He knew it was a bit unethical for him to become involved with his student, but neither was in a relationship with anyone else, and student-teacher relationships were not at all uncommon in conservatory settings.

As their first year progressed, both were convinced they were in love, and the relationship might have moved toward marriage had it not been for an unfortunate incident.

Toward the end of their second year as teacher and student, and their first year as lovers, one of the Philadelphia Symphony’s remaining eight violists died of a heart attack. A man of 68, with a history of heart disease, David Ward’s death was far from a major shock. To Edmond, it was a wonderful opportunity. He was overjoyed and wasted no time mourning Ward’s death, even though they had known each other and had a cordial relationship. It had been so long since an opening had occurred that Edmond was resigned to his situation and almost happy with his life. He was satisfied and challenged by his prestigious teaching post, and deeply in love with Elaine, whose progress as a musician under his tutelage was truly impressive to him and to others.

Edmond had bought a ring and was getting ready to propose to Elaine on the same evening she announced that she was thinking of taking the audition for the orchestra’s viola post. Edmond kept his shock to himself, and postponed his proposal. He had already begun practicing for the audition and thought he had a good shot this time - better than on previous occasions, since he had now been subbing in the orchestra for more than a decade, knew the other musicians well, and was certain he would be selected. But he was completely stuck. He was Elaine’s teacher and her lover. He could not prevent her from auditioning. He could not discourage her. He persuaded himself that a little healthy competition would be good for their relationship. He told her that he was planning to audition, and she cautiously asked if he thought she should change her plans. “Of course not,” he said. “You have every right to do this.”

“Are you sure?” Elaine asked, taking his hand gently. “I would not want you to feel that I’m stepping on your toes, especially since you have taught me everything I know,” she added.

Edmond could not tell her how he really felt about the situation. Since Edmond was known to the orchestra, he was not required to participate in the preliminary round, but would begin in the semifinals. Elaine sailed through the preliminary round, as he knew she would. Her audition was scheduled just before his, and he was a lot more disturbed when he learned that she had passed the semifinal round and would join him and three others in the finals.

The final round was the following day, and that night Edmond told Elaine that he needed to be alone. Elaine claimed that she understood and that they could have dinner after the final audition. Edmond barely slept that night, going through all the music in his head, and finally getting up at seven a.m. for a final hour of warming up.

His audition was at 9:45 a.m. and Elaine’s was scheduled for one p.m. After a short break, the five finalists would be assembled and the winner announced. Despite his stress and lack of sleep, Edmond knew that he had played the best audition of his life. He could not have done better, and he was sure the job would be his.

At two p.m. the candidates were called back into the hall. The conductor spoke to the nervous assembled group. “This was a very difficult decision. You are all wonderfully talented musicians, and any one of you could have filled the post. However, the committee has helped me to select the one violist who seems best suited for this position. Her name is Elaine Sobel.”

Edmond could not believe his ears. It was impossible that this could have happened to him, again, and that to add insult to injury, the woman he loved, and had taught, was considered better than he was. Washing over him in a large wave, his love for Elaine turned to hatred. Without saying a word, not even congratulations, he got up, walked out of the room, and left the building. Elaine was stunned. She was not free to follow him out. She had to speak with the conductor and the committee. She had paperwork to sign, and information to receive. She was having a hard time believing her own good fortune, and wondering why Edmond had simply walked out.

It was two hours later when she knocked on the door of his studio at Curtis. He was sitting there and staring at the walls. He had cancelled all his students that day, and had planned to win the audition, take Elaine to dinner, and propose. Now his life was over. He turned around when he heard the knock, but Elaine walked in before he had a chance to answer.

“What happened to you? I thought you would be proud, pleased for me. But you just left without saying a word.”

“Please leave,” he said. “This isn’t how I thought today would end. Please...just go.”

“Edmond, I owe this all to you. I want to thank you, to celebrate with you. I understand you must be disappointed, but you encouraged me to do this. Please, talk to me.”

“Elaine, I think you should be able to understand how I feel. We’re finished. You have your dream job now. It should have been mine. I cannot be with you any longer.”

“Edmond, I love you. What about us?”

“Us? You should have thought about us before you did this to me, to us. There is no more us. Goodbye Elaine. Just go before I get up and throw you out. Enjoy the fact that you have stolen this job from me. You can go to hell. Don’t ever come here again. Don’t ever contact me again. Get yourself another teacher. Go now and get your things out of my apartment, and be out before I get home. You have an hour.”

“Edmond...please....don’t.” She was crying and trying to come closer. He motioned her away without looking at her.

“Get out...NOW!” His tone was so harsh that, for the first time ever, Elaine was frightened. She did as he requested. By the time he returned home a few hours later, all of her possessions had been removed from his home. He never spoke to her again. After this incident, Edmond took himself off the orchestra’s substitute list. He did not want to be reminded of his failure. Although he continued to teach, and to play, people noticed a big change in him. His spirit was gone. He completely lost his wry sense of humor. His temper was quick to flare, and his students went from adoring him to fearing him. His social life was nonexistent.

There was a lot of talk in the Philadelphia musical world about Edmond Sutherland’s sad decline. Some of his friends tried to cheer him up, to take him out, to invite him to dinner, but he declined all invitations. They worried he might do harm to himself or to Elaine.

Angela, one of Elaine’s friends, was convinced that Elaine was in danger. For a few weeks after their breakup, Elaine felt Edmond’s presence. She was sure he was following her, lurking in dark hallways. She saw shadows, but never caught a full view of him.

One evening when she came home from a rehearsal, her front door was open. The contents of several drawers in her bedroom had been dumped out, all over the room, but nothing was missing. Elaine called the police but they treated it as a minor case, a prank.

Elaine had the lock changed. She had no doubt that Edmond had broken in, just to make her nervous. For a few days after the incident, she received calls in the middle of the night, but the police could not find out who had placed the calls. They were short, and all made from pay phones in the area, one of them directly across the street from her building. The caller had whispered obscenities and threatened to “pay you a visit someday.” She could not identify the disguised voice as Edmond’s, but was sure he was the one.

The final, and most frightening, incident of the series occurred when she returned home from a rehearsal late one evening. The lock on the front door of her apartment was broken and the door was wide open. Without even going inside, she could see arrows painted on her floor in red, pointing from the door toward her balcony. Her stalker had hung a noose from the railing of the balcony. In it, a large ragdoll was hanging by its neck, with “Elaine” written in black marker on the front and back of its dress.

Elaine’s screams awakened her neighbors, who called the police. One of them took Elaine into her apartment for the night.

The following day, Edmond was arrested, and immediately admitted what he had done. When asked why, he said simply, “She ruined my life. I hate her.” Edmond wrote a long and sincere letter of apology to Elaine, begging her forgiveness and promising he would never bother her again. She refused to press charges, and Edmond was released. The incidents stopped, and the episode was over. Elaine was nervous for weeks, and her friend Angela moved in for a couple of months until Elaine felt stronger and better able to cope with living alone.

Cynthia began turning her thinking from Daniel to Edmond. Could Edmond have carried his anger inside him for two decades, and finally snapped? Or been plotting for years? Could Daniel and Edmond have formed some bizarre partnership? In her years as a detective, she had learned that no theory was too far-fetched. At the very least, she would speak with Sutherland.