Devoted in Death (In Death #41)(10)



“You know. It’s what you do, isn’t it? You know what happened to him. I’m his mother, and I need to know.”

“Ms. McKensie, the ME has to determine cause of death. I can tell you that from our on-site evaluation, it appears he’d been restrained. He suffered multiple injuries.”

Very carefully Mina took another sip of brandy. “They restrained him so they could hurt him? So he couldn’t stop them from hurting him.”

Yes, she was a strong woman, Eve concluded. And far from stupid.

“It appears to be the case, but the ME will have to examine Dorian. I’m very sorry. Do you know of anyone who would do something like this to your son? Someone with a grudge, a former lover, a competitor?”

“No.” Mina pressed her fingers between her eyebrows, took a slow breath. “No, I don’t. I’m not just dismissing what you asked, but he was well-liked.”

“He taught at Juilliard. Maybe a student he reprimanded.”

“None that I know. He liked teaching. He didn’t need to teach for financial reasons. He gave that time because he enjoyed nurturing new talent. It excited him to help a student come along. No one who knew him could have done this. No one who knew him could have hurt him this way, taken his life.”

“You were close.” She kept her eyes on Mina’s as Peabody came back in.

“Yes. Very.”

“Then I’m going to ask you, do you know anyone who’d want to hurt you by hurting your son? The same question from a different angle, Ms. McKensie. Someone with a grudge, a former lover, a competitor?”

“Oh God.” Her hands trembled as she set the snifter aside, so she gripped them together in her lap. “Kill Dorian to hurt me? I don’t know anyone who’s capable of such a terrible thing. There are people who don’t particularly like me, or people I’ve had disagreements with. Even serious ones. But I swear to you, no one I know would hurt Dorian. Even people who didn’t particularly like me liked him. The idea, even the thought that someone would hurt him because of me —”

“Ms. McKensie, we have to ask. We have to look at every possibility.” Peabody sat again. “Mr. Chamberlin is on his way.”

“Thank you.”

“Did your son mention anyone bothering him? He’d have fans, right?” Eve suggested. “People who follow the opera, who enjoyed his work?”

“Yes – I mean, yes, he had many who enjoyed his work, who might attend performances, and wait to speak with him or have him sign a program.”

“Sometimes a fan can cross a line, can develop a fictional relationship, and become angry when the object of that interest doesn’t reciprocate.”

Mina folded her hands again as if to keep them still, nodded. “Yes, I understand, and Dorian had followers, yes, of course. He’s young and very attractive and talented. He’d play at clubs now and again, especially off season. Not opera, of course. Jazz, blues. Dorian can play a number of instruments. Some would hear he’d be at a certain club and go to see him. Or wait by the stage door after a performance. There’s no one I can… Wait.”

She sat straight up. “There was a girl he spoke of in the last few weeks. What did he call her?” Mina closed her eyes a moment. “Earnest Tina.”

“Earnestina? Do you have a last name?”

“No, no, Earnest – as in she was earnest. Overly so. He had a drink with her once, which tells me she’s attractive. And he said she spent most of the hour dissecting Wagner and Mozart and so on. Not a musician, not that, she was composing. That’s it. Composing an opera, and very, very earnest. He said she’d come to whatever club, somewhere he’d jammed, a few days after he’d had a drink with her, and was very displeased he wasted his time and talent on what she considered lesser music. He laughed about it, but she’d been angry.”

“  ‘Tina,’   ” Eve repeated. “No last name?”

“I’m sorry. He never said. It was just an anecdote over coffee one morning. He might have mentioned her to a friend in more detail.”

“We’ll look into it,” Eve said as the buzzer sounded.

Peabody rose, gestured the droid back. “I’ve got it.”

“I don’t want to see anyone but Ethan. I don’t want to —”

“Don’t worry,” Eve assured her.

“I need to see my son, Lieutenant. I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I can’t quite remember.”

“Dallas. I’m going to arrange it. I’m going to go see him myself when I leave here, and I’ll arrange it. Dr. Morris is looking after him. I promise you he’ll be well taken care of.”

“Mina.” The man who rushed in was dashing, dramatic in looks. Tall, imposingly so, and whippet lean. Like the droid, he had a generous mane of hair gone silver at the temples, and eyes of dark and piercing brown under arched black brows.

Ignoring Eve he dropped to his knees by Mina’s chair, drew her into a hard embrace.

“Dorian. It’s Dorian. It’s —”

Though she’d kept her word, hadn’t fallen apart, she broke now on one keening wail.

3

On the street, Eve surrendered to the wind and dug the silly hat out of her pocket.

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