The Maestro Murdered
Chapter Twenty-One
Sean McGill sat at his desk, staring into Samantha Gibbons’ eyes and shaking his head sadly.
“Look,” she said, quickly crossing and uncrossing her legs in the uncomfortable chair across from him. “I realize it was a mistake.”
McGill sighed. “I just can’t imagine what you were thinking.”
“Okay, well, I wasn’t thinking. Not for a few minutes a couple of weeks ago. I mean…I had just asked for a raise, or at least a few more hours a week to do this job. They’re always complaining that I don’t get the music out into the musician’s folders when it’s supposed to be there, but the fact is they don’t give me nearly enough time to get the job done right. Some of that music…some of those pieces haven’t been played for years and all the parts are just thrown together in an old folder. Some of the pages are ripped, some are missing. I’ve got to repair the torn pages, sometimes make photocopies, erase all the old penciled-in markings for eighty or ninety parts for every piece they play. They may go over four or five pieces in one rehearsal and sometimes they don’t even tell me what they’re going to rehearse until a couple of days before. And I’m only part-time…they only pay me for twenty hours a week and that’s never enough to get it done so I have to come in extra days, on my own. And I never get paid for that.”
“And you reacted to that by hiring somebody to steal the orchestra’s instruments?”
“No! I told the guy just to come in and mess things up…do a little vandalizing, knock over a few cabinets, mess everything up. That’s all I told him to do.”
“And you really thought that was going to get you a raise or more hours?”
“I told you, I wasn’t thinking.”
“What made you approach that guy, Willie Bascom?”
“I don’t know…he was around outside the building a lot…you know, panhandling.”
“And what made you think he would do something illegal?”
Samantha shrugged. “He was hungry. He seemed to be pretty desperate. I told him exactly what to do…gave him fifty bucks.”
“How did you get the key to unlock the door?”
“Are you kidding? It’s just sitting there on a peg behind the door of Alan’s room. And Alan isn’t there half the time. I don’t care what anybody tells you—anybody could grab that key any time they felt like it.”
“And when you came in the next day, what did you discover?”
“He hadn’t done what I asked him to do…not really. He threw a few things around…but then I found out that he actually stole some things—some old violins and even a few scores. I certainly didn’t tell him to do that.”
“So what did you do?”
“There wasn’t anything I could do. I could hardly say ‘sorry guys but my thief was only supposed to vandalize the place…not my fault.”
“So you said nothing.”
“Look, the violins were low quality student instruments. Nobody around here really got that upset, although Carter—he’s the chair of the orchestra’s Board—he came charging around the next day bellowing like a wounded bull. But Alan didn’t seem all that worried about it. The missing scores were a little more of a problem, but there was nothing we couldn’t replace easily enough.”
“Did you get back to Willie Bascom and complain that he had gone beyond the call of duty, swiping those violins?”
“I looked around for him the next couple of days but he was keeping out of sight. Then I figured the best thing I could do about it was lay low and play dumb.”
McGill shook his head. “You didn’t have to play dumb, you were dumb. Willie Bascom had prior convictions for one thing and eventually we would have questioned him about it. And Willie sure didn’t seem to feel any loyalty to you. He came up with your name within a few minutes of having a little pressure applied to him.”
“Oh my God! What am I going to do?”
“In the short run, you’re coming downstairs with me and you’re going to get booked.”
“Am I going to jail?”
“I’m not the one who determines that.”
“What if I can help you with your investigation…you know, of the murders?”
McGill frowned. “If you have something to tell me, you had better do it right now.”
Gibbons hesitated. “I don’t know how important it is…”
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Well, it’s Jonathan Clemens, the business manager for the orchestra. You know his office is at the end of the same hall where the music library is located and it’s close to the washroom. So when I’m there, doing my job and just walking around, sometimes I overhear him.”
“So?”
“So one day I heard him having an argument…a nasty one…with Ray Ridgway. He’s a professional fund-raiser who works sometimes for Clemens. I don’t really know Ray but he seems like a nice guy from what I’ve seen. But he and Clemens were really going at it. At one point, Clemens yelled at him to get out of his office.”
“What were they talking about?”
Gibbons shrugged. “Who knows? I only heard the tail-end of the argument. But it was pretty heated.”
“Does Mr. Clemens often lose his temper?”
“Well, he’s not the most pleasant person, if that’s what you mean.”
“Would you like to explain that statement a little?”
“He can be pretty grouchy, even nasty at times.”
“Have you had any run-ins with him?”
“Yes, from time to time. Alan Winston…he tries to help people. But Clemens just complains. And he’s refused my requests for more time in the music library several times.”
“Oh, I see. He’s the one who refuses to increase your hours.”
“Right, although you’d think he’d understand a little better how difficult my job is. Alan is always supportive, but never Clemens.”
“I’m having a difficult time seeing how Clemens’ argument with Ridgway relates to the two murders.”
“Don’t you see? There’s obviously something that he’s trying to cover up and it’s something that Ridgeway knows about.”
McGill sighed quietly. “Look, Ms. Gibbons, this is something I will check on but, honestly, there’s a great chance that it doesn’t have anything at all to do with the murders. I do, however, appreciate your bringing it to my attention. Now if you’ll come with me, we’ve some business to take care of downstairs.”