The Maestro Murdered

  Chapter Three

  Auguste Hauptmann, a distinguished-looking man in his early-eighties with an impressive mane of thick, white hair reaching almost to his shoulders, walked slowly to his old desk. Yes, this was familiar territory for him—the same room, the same desk he had studied scores at for five years. All of it looked essentially the same as it had when he had left this building, a little over two years ago.

  He collapsed wearily into his chair and stared at the score lying on the desk in front of him.

  He was tired, but he would never allow anyone to know that. He knew that they all relied on him to be strong, to shrug off his advancing years.

  The orchestra he was rejoining did not have a heroic past—no long standing traditions to draw on. The Philadelphia Philharmonic was a young orchestra, and—from the beginning—it had only one great asset—he himself. He had been lured from Germany to conduct the fledgling ensemble just seven years earlier and he had quickly succeeded in establishing the young orchestra as one of the top new orchestras in the country, despite the formidable competition provided by the city's other major orchestra, which had been considered one of the top orchestras in the world for decades. But that venerable institution had suffered mightily during the recession and the Philharmonic Orchestra was younger, less encumbered by high salaries and long term contracts. And it was hungrier. The young musicians rallied around their veteran conductor and the result was magical.

  Soon their concerts were selling out while other major orchestras of long-standing were playing to half-full concert halls. He himself had been featured in a series of articles in several national newspapers and magazines, but he did his best to keep his focus on the young musicians that actually produced the music. As he reminded the interviewers again and again, a conductor can only lead the way; it was up to the group of phenomenally talented and inspired musicians to translate the conductor’s vision into sound.

  It had all been remarkably successful for five years. And then there was not a doubt in his mind that it was time to stop...to step down and hand the reins of this fine young orchestra to a younger conductor.

  And so he did. They had begged him to help pick his successor but he had refused. It was up to them—the orchestra and the business manager, Mr. Clemens, and the Board of Directors— to choose the new conductor. He had not always completely trusted Clemens or the Board, but he had trusted the young orchestra, or in this case the interviewing committee made up of some of the orchestra’s brightest stars, to pick a worthy conductor to lead the orchestra into the future.

  Had his trust been well placed? Perhaps not completely. The orchestra had auditioned half a dozen conductors—mostly young ones—and their final decision was one that he did not completely understand. They had chosen a young woman, Loreen Stenke. She had fairly limited experience, but had already made something of a name for herself by programming and conducting works by contemporary American composers.

  Of course that was not a bad thing in and of itself. The orchestra’s repertoire was perhaps overly entrenched in the late nineteenth century European classics. He himself was famous for his conducting of Mahler symphonies, but he also frequently conducted works from the twentieth century French repertoire. And in deference to the youthful enthusiasm of so many of his orchestral members, he had broadened his repertoire to include a few late twentieth-century American composers as well. The orchestra had seemed satisfied with his choices. The orchestra Board—most of whom were generous donors to the organization—also seemed pleased. The critics were mixed of course, but that was to be expected. He did not have a great deal of respect for the Philadelphia music critics, but that was to be expected as well.

  But the young American conductor who had replaced him—she had been in place for a little over year and a half now—took a very different approach, focusing almost entirely on new American music. This surprised him. The orchestra had been so successful under his guidance that it seemed to him dangerous to chart completely unknown waters.

  And of course it had not gone that well for the new conductor, at least not in his opinion. There had been a honeymoon period, of course, when everyone had welcomed Ms. Stenke with open arms, and enthusiasm for her early concerts ran high. But the enthusiasm level soon waned. She had programmed more and more "difficult" music—music that was either too dissonant to please the average concert-goer or was too cartoonish, too "pop" sounding, to be taken seriously. It was clear that the audience was at times simply puzzled by the pieces that the orchestra was playing. Soon attendance was down. The Board of Directors and major donors were grumbling. The budget was beginning to take a hit.

  But of course he was officially retired at that point and kept a low profile. He had made a series of polite comments about the new conductor and the orchestra’s apparent new direction to the press, but some had criticized him for what they described as his "lukewarm" endorsements of the new regime. But there was nothing he could say that would help the new conductor or the orchestra. They seemed to be suffering from a backlash against Ms. Stenke’s programming choices. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

  But recently, just as the rumblings of discontent had begun to peak, Ms. Stenke had announced that she would be stepping away from the orchestra for maternity leave. That she was pregnant had been widely known for a while, but it was assumed that after a brief hiatus she would return to conduct the orchestra. Now it appeared that she would not be coming back to finish the season.

  In some ways, the timing was almost ideal. Stenke’s critics would back off and the negative publicity would cease…at least most of it.

  And of course because she would be unable to conduct the final concerts of the season, he had been called out of his retirement to take over those final two concerts. An astounding number of well-wishers had come forward to tell him how pleased they were that he was again assuming command. But he was quick to remind them that it was only for two concerts. He certainly had no interest in encroaching on Ms. Stenke’s position as the chief conductor of the orchestra. When next year’s orchestral concert season started up again, he assumed Ms. Stenke would once again be at the helm.

  Besides, he was tired. He was a month away from his eighty-third birthday. And some of the pieces he was being asked to conduct were not to his taste. But he would never let anyone know that, especially not the orchestra members. They had nothing but the fondest of feelings for him; it was he who had engineered their phenomenal rise to fame in just a few short years. He was their driving force, and everyone knew it.

  Yes, he would take the orchestra and, by the strength of his will, return it to its previous glory for these last two concerts. The public would fall in the love with the orchestra once again. The donors would open their wallets. The orchestra would again be known as one of the up-and- coming American orchestras.

  Everyone would be overwhelmed with gratitude of course. They would entreat him to take up his baton and resume permanent leadership of the orchestra. But he would refuse. His time had passed. As much as it pained him to see the orchestra in decline, and even in danger due to the unfortunate decisions that had been made since his departure as conductor and music director, there was only so much he could do. He could play the savior only temporarily.

  He sighed loudly and took up his marking pencil and stared into the first page of the score—Strauss’s “Till Eulenspiegel,” an old favorite. He had conducted it at least a dozen times, most of those times in Europe, before he had even considered coming to America to close out his career.

  Tempo! Most conductors took the opening measures far too quickly. No, they were something to savor. Time for brilliance later in the piece. He started to write a note in the margin, when he heard someone enter the room.

  “Maestro Hauptmann?” came a quiet voice in back of him. “It’s that policeman. He’s here to see you now.”

  The Maestro turned slowly in his chair and smiled at the young, somewhat frantic-looking secretary. “Of c
ourse, Linda, show him in.”

  Sean McGill entered slowly, careful not to brush against the many antiques balanced on the ornamental tables by the door. He smiled politely as Hauptmann rose to greet him and extended his hand.

  “Hello, Maestro Hauptmann. Back in familiar surroundings I take it. I’ve been informed that you’re once again assuming the reins of the orchestra.”

  Hauptmann chuckled. “Yes, it all seems very familiar to me. Take a seat please,” he said, gesturing to the straight-backed chair across from his desk.

  “Thank you,” McGill said, taking his seat quickly. “I won’t keep you long today.”

  “I understand that this is about our missing instruments,” Hauptmann said. “I’m afraid that I’m not going to be much help on this matter. I didn’t come into the office at all yesterday so I know nothing of the affair. As you probably know, I’m not officially taking over for Loreen Stenke for a few days.”

  “I understand, sir. I’ve come mostly to let you know that we are continuing to investigate the situation but we haven’t made much progress yet. I am aware that the orchestra is very concerned about this matter.”

  Hauptmann smiled. “Well, financially speaking, this is not a major problem for the orchestra. The value of the instruments was minimal.”

  “And yet Inspector Simmons has informed me that some members of the organization have expressed a strong concern about the theft.”

  Hauptmann sighed. “I think I can guess to whom your Inspector is referring. Some members of the orchestra’s Board have a tendency to see intrigues behind every door.”

  McGill suppressed a smile. “So you don’t think there’s a sinister plot involved here?”

  “Behind the pilfering of some old and mostly useless instruments? No, I don’t. I certainly don’t want to get in the way of your investigation, of course, but I really don’t think I can be of any help. I don’t know why anyone would want the instruments, but I surely don’t think that their theft should in any way be interpreted as an attack on the orchestra. The orchestra is in excellent shape. I’ve agreed to help out the organization by re-assuming my old role of conductor as Ms. Stenke prepares to have her baby. After a reasonable leave of absence, I’m quite confident she’ll resume her role and that will be that. And, in the meantime, you’ll probably want to speak to her as well, although I doubt whether she knows any more about the theft of the instruments than I do. I don’t believe she’s quite vacated her office, which is on the second floor close to the orchestra’s business office.”

  McGill rose to his feet. “Well, in that case, there’s no reason to take up anymore of your time. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”