The Maestro Murdered

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ashton Lemense glared intently at Sean McGill, who pulled out a small notebook and scribbled a few words into it.

  "I really don't see the point to this discussion," Lemense said.

  "I wouldn't have brought you down here if we didn't have something to talk about, Mr. Lemense," said McGill.

  "So go ahead," said Lemense, settling back into his chair. "Enlighten me. What meaningful conversation could you and I possibly have?"

  “Let’s start with the fact that you were seen loitering outside the front door of the orchestra's building within an hour of Loreen Stenke’s murder."

  "That's it? That’s the reason I'm here?”

  “You were seen by a security camera and a couple of people.”

  “Well, I wasn't sneaking around. And I wasn’t loitering.”

  “So you were there?”

  “Sure I was there. One of my volunteers told me that she left a couple of our placards in front of the building. I told her I'd go over and pick them up.”

  “Was that really worth a trip downtown?”

  “Hey, we're operating on a very limited budget.”

  “So why did you enter the building?”

  “I didn't.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I'm sure. And nobody saw me enter because I didn’t enter. Check the security camera again.”

  “It only gives us a view of the front door, not the back door.”

  “Not my fault. I didn’t even know there was a back door. We always mount our demonstrations on the main street where everybody can see us. We don’t do back alleys.”

  “How admirable. So you’re saying that you just picked up your signs and left?”

  “No. The signs were gone. Someone else must have grabbed them. So after I looked around a few minutes, I left. I’m surprised your witnesses didn’t tell you that.”

  “The building janitor saw you walking around. He didn’t see you leave, but he was leaving about the same time and might have missed you.”

  “Once again, not my fault. Look, Detective, if I’m one of your main suspects here, you’re in serious trouble. It just shows that you don’t have a clue about either of these murders. I didn’t particularly want either of these people dead, particularly the woman. This sort of tragedy will evoke a tremendous amount of sympathy for the orchestra. That may well translate into more donations and more seasons, at least in part on the public dole. I would like to see these cultural charities simply disappear from the city—or at least stop drawing on public funds that should be used to help the thousands of people who really need it.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lemense, I understand your perspective on all of this, but somehow I don’t think it’s all that simple. I think you personally resented these people and the attention they got.”

  “Me resent a pair of orchestra conductors? I don’t care about them one way or the other. If they’re considered important people by the cultural elite, fine…let the cultural elite have them. But they should stay away from public funding, because in the end there are more important things in the world than how the upper classes entertain themselves.”

  McGill smiled. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Lemense.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we will.”