The Maestro Murdered
Terence O’Grady
Copyright 2014 Terence O’Grady
Cover image from Dreamstime
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to persons living or dead are coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
Sean McGill sighed quietly as he began to trudge up the long stairway to the third floor office of the orchestra manager. He didn't know any of the details concerning this case, one that appeared to be no more than petty theft, and he had a feeling that it would take most of his morning to find out that there was little he could do about it in any case.
Not much of a building, he thought as he scanned the ancient staircase. But of course there weren’t very many not-for-profit musical organizations that could afford luxurious accommodations. He knew that this particular orchestra—the little brother of the famous Philadelphia Orchestra—probably had a fairly modest budget. Still, in the few years it had been around, it had acquired something of a reputation as an up-and-coming young orchestra and was at least solvent, which was saying quite a bit these days.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t quite sure why he was here. He knew that the uniformed officer who had first responded to the call from the orchestra had already asked most of the relevant questions so he wondered exactly why he was about to spend the whole morning in duplicating that effort.
Of course he had a pretty strong hunch about why he was given the job. He was the most junior detective in the district and, even more to the point, he had trained as a musician when he was younger. So if there was a music-related crime anywhere in Philadelphia, he would naturally be assigned to cover it, no matter how trivial it might be.
And he had to continually remind himself that no crime was trivial to its victims. The fact that the victim in this case was actually an institution didn't change the fact that the people concerned would be outraged and indignant and would want him to focus his entire attention on their misfortune.
Arriving—slightly out of breath—at the third floor office entrance, he was met at the door by a slender young man, perhaps thirty-years old or a little less, with a healthy shock of thick, black hair and a slightly pained expression on his face.
“Mr. Winston, I assume?” McGill said, reaching out his hand. “I’m Detective Sean McGill.”
“Yes, Alan Winston,” replied the young man, giving Sean’s hand a cursory shake. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to clear up this mess quickly.”
“This mess?”
“Well, actually it is a mess,” said Winston, gazing around him at the over-turned chairs and music stands, “but I should have said, clear up this problem of ours.”
“I’ll certainly do what I can, Mr. Winston. Now could you please start at the beginning? I’m told that you discovered the problem when you came in this morning.”
“Yes, I’ve already explained the whole thing to the officer who responded to our call.”
“I’m sure you have, Mr. Winston, but we like to check things over more than once just to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”
“If you insist. I got here this morning at about a quarter after eight. I’m usually the first person to show up on weekdays. Anyway, when I got here the place was in utter confusion. Somebody had made a fine mess of things,” Winston said, sweeping his hand over the room. “I keep this storage room in perfect order, but as you can see, it’s an unholy mess at the moment.”
“Was the door locked when you got here?”
“The main door to the building was locked. However, the door to the back, the one that leads up the back stairway, was unlocked.”
“And I assume that it’s usually locked.”
“I assume so as well. The fact is that the backdoor is almost never used. All the staff enters and leaves by the front.”
“Could you put a value on the items that were taken from the orchestra?"
Winston shook his head. "That’s going to be a little bit of a problem. A couple of old instruments are missing, a pair of violins.”
"Does old imply valuable in this case?"
"Well, no. Not particularly. It's hard to put a price on them.”
McGill nodded, smiling slightly. "Would you prefer that I talk to someone else on the orchestra staff about this?"
Winston sighed. "No, I'm the manager. I know more about these things than anyone else. It's just that these instruments were seldom used. They were donated, you know. Old instruments that belonged to someone's grandfather and their kids now have to get rid of them so they give them to us.”
“And you take old instruments like that? Donations?”
“We do, although the quality is seldom such that we can actually use them…not for the real orchestra. The musicians all have their own instruments, of course. Often quite valuable ones. But we use the donated ones for the youth orchestra. If some high school student in our youth orchestra is having her instrument repaired, they're free to use ours."
“I see,” the detective said, putting down his note pad. "So it was some of these donated instruments that are missing?”
“Along with some of the orchestra’s music, although strangely enough just some of the conductor’s scores, no individual parts.”
“Conductor’s scores? So would those be valuable?”
“I suppose they would...to some extent. We're only missing five or six. It'll cost a few hundred dollars to replace them. But why a non-musician would want them is beyond me.”
“So you’re thinking that the thieves, whoever they were, were not musicians and they didn’t really understand what it was they were stealing?”
“I can't be sure of course, but most musicians would know that there's not all that great a market for the things that have been stolen. In other words, I'm not sure a musician would take the risk, considering that this stuff is just not that valuable.”
“I see,” McGill said. “So this is not really a big deal for the orchestra.”
Winston shook his head vigorously. "I didn't say that! We consider this a major violation! The maestro is furious! Not everything can be measured in money, detective...”
“McGill. Sean McGill.”
“Of course. But look…our building has been entered illegally. Things have been taken. We need to find out who would do this to the orchestra.”
“I understand, Mr. Winston. It would be a shock to anyone. But I’m going to need a little more background information. I'm not a complete neophyte here since I was once a music student in the dim and distant past, but I'd like you to tell me a little about the orchestra. It's a fairly new one in the city, is it not?”
“Well, let’s say that it’s been r
ecently reinvented. For years the city had only one orchestra. One of the greatest orchestras in the world with a storied past, of course, but over the years some people thought it had gotten a little out of touch with its audience.”
“I see.”
“So about eight years ago, this orchestra—the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra— was first formed. The musicians were on the young side and so was the audience. We struggled the first couple of years but then we had a great stroke of luck—we managed to lure the great Auguste Hauptmann out of retirement in Germany to conduct the orchestra. All of a sudden we were news—not just local news, but international news.”
“Hadn’t he conducted the Vienna Symphony for some time?”
“Over twenty years. And he had been retired for eight or nine years when he was convinced to come here to breathe life into our new, very young orchestra.”
“And did he?”
“Absolutely. He provided the orchestra with instant credibility and brought a new sense of repertoire. Audiences quickly learned that they could hear things at our concerts that they might not hear elsewhere.”
“New works? Contemporary?”
“Well, not really. Hauptmann was a champion of the late Romantic German and early 20th century French traditions. Occasionally he would he would perform Schoenberg and Berg, but mostly Strauss and Mahler. A little Bruckner. And he was fond of Ravel.”
“So all was well? And the orchestra became profitable?”
“We even secured a major label recording contract, and you know that’s almost impossible these days.”
“So I’m told.”
“Yes, the orchestra did become profitable. It helped that our labor costs were low. I mentioned that most of the musicians were young and they almost all had early-career contracts.”
McGill chuckled. “I’m sorry, but it never ceases to amaze me when musicians are referred to as labor costs.”
Winston offered a thin smile. “Well, that’s what they are. They’re talented of course, but they are, after all, employees who can be replaced. There are an awful lot of talented musicians out there looking for a job. Our orchestral members are on the whole happy to be here.”
“I see,” said McGill, nodding gently. “So we can eliminate the possibility of disgruntled musicians being the perpetrators here?”
“Well, yes…I suppose so. Although things have gotten a little stickier lately, ever since Hauptmann retired.”
“Oh, really? And when was that?”
“A couple of years ago. That was when Loreen Stenke took over, our new conductor.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the name.”
“The maestro—Herr Hauptmann—decided that it was time to step down. He felt the orchestra was on a firm footing and it was time for a younger conductor. That turned out to be Maestro Stenke.”
“She received quite a bit of publicity when she first arrived, didn’t she? Some national press as I vaguely recall?”
“Yes, she’s considered to be one of the best of the new generation of conductors.”
“Ms. Stenke is quite a bit younger, is she not?”
“She’s in her late 20s. But the orchestra’s Board of Directors decided that she was ready. Even Maestro Hauptmann approved, although he didn’t take an active role in the recruiting process.”
“But you say there have been some problems since that time?”
“Well, not huge problems…but yes. Things have not gone as smoothly.”
“In what way?”
“Attendance at the concerts has fallen off rather significantly. Some of the orchestra members have complained and a few have made a fuss.”
“What exactly has been the problem?”
“I’m not in a position to comment on gossip, and I certainly don’t put the blame on Maestro Stenke. But it is true that our audience numbers have taken a hit. Our business manager, Mr. Jonathan Clemens, can tell you more about that if it’s important, although I can’t see why it would be.”
“I see. So in general, things are not going quite as well these days. Are there more changes on the horizon?”
Winston paused. “Well, you’re going to be hearing about this in the newspapers in a couple of days, but Maestro Stenke is going to be taking a leave of absence for the rest of the concert season.”
“Really? What brought that on?”
“She’s expecting…just made it public last week. And after the baby is born, she’ll be taking a few months of maternity leave.”
“And her pregnancy would prevent her from conducting the last few concerts?”
Winston shrugged. “It’s her decision of course but, personally, I’m surprised that she made it. She did mention to me that her doctor apparently hinted at the possibility of a difficult pregnancy. Still, at this early stage I see no reason why she couldn’t come back and conduct those final two concerts.”
“What is the orchestra going to do without a conductor?”
“That’s the surprising thing. We just found out that Maestro Hauptmann has agreed to come out of retirement once again and conduct the orchestra for the rest of this year’s season. And after that, who knows?”
McGill’s eyebrows lifted. “So he’ll come out of retirement for the second time?”
“He’s done a few guest conducting stints in Europe in the last couple of years but, yes, he’s been keeping a low profile around here. Bur naturally we’re all delighted that he’s agreed to step in.”
“Right the ship, eh?”
Winston winced slightly. “We’re not exactly a sinking ship, Detective. But yes, it will probably help at the box office.”
“When is the official announcement for the big switch?”
“Things are moving fast. Ms. Stenke will be announcing her departure tomorrow at a Friday afternoon press conference. And Saturday night there’ll be a big gala reception to welcome back Maestro Hauptmann.”
“That is fast! Is this switch permanent? Is Ms. Stenke coming back next season?”
“As I said, I have no idea. I am merely the orchestra manager. I deal with instruments and music and performance logistics. To plumb the depths of orchestral policy, you might again want to consult Mr. Clemens, or even Mr. Wilfrid Carter, the chair of the Board of Directors. I must say, though, that I’m not sure how all of that is relevant to the lifting of a couple of old instruments and a few scores.”
McGill smiled. “Mr. Winston, at this point I have no idea about what is or isn’t relevant. I’ve been directed to investigate the case thoroughly and that’s all I’m trying to do.”
Winston nodded. “Whatever. Speak to anybody you like, as far as I’m concerned. Just don’t say I suggested it. There is one person who might be helpful. Sam…Samantha Gibbons…she works as a part-time librarian for the orchestra. It’s possible that she may have been the last one to leave the building last night.”
“I’ll certainly check on her, Mr. Winston. “Thanks for the suggestion.”