The Beethoven Quandary
Chapter Three
David leaned back on the piano bench. That was close, he thought. He had made it back to his studio only a couple of minutes before the student had shown up for his makeup lesson. It had gone well, all things considered. The student in question wasn't David's best by any means, but he was diligent and actually worked on the problems that David pointed out each week. He was a steady achiever and would someday be a perfectly respectable pianist. Not everybody had to become a professional, or even a piano teacher. There was nothing wrong with being a talented amateur. In fact, that might be the most rewarding musical life anyone could have. God knows that being a professional musician was not always what it was cracked up to be.
He looked at his phone. No more lessons until after lunch. That's alright. Maybe I can get a little practicing in after all.
Just then the studio door burst open and Jeremy came flying into the room.
"Jeremy! That was fast. Did you bring..."
"David! It's gone! It's been stolen!"
"Slow down, please. What's been stolen? You don't mean...”
"Yes...the manuscript. Less than two minutes after you left. I turned to go over to the counter. I wasn’t gone twenty seconds, so help me. And it was lifted. My whole knapsack...with the manuscript inside."
“Anything else in there?”
“Nothing valuable. Nothing else worth five million dollars.”
David frowned. “That’s terrible! But who…why? Was this just random? I mean, there were only a few other people in the place when I came in. I can’t believe that someone would just step up and grab your knapsack.”
“Well, someone did,” Jeremy said bitterly, “and I’m screwed if I don’t get it back.”
“Now wait a minute,” David said. “If this was just some random guy…did you see anyone?”
“No. I asked everyone in the room. Apparently this guy was invisible.”
“Now look, Jeremy,” David said, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible, “the chances are really high that some street person just saw an opportunity and took it. There’s no way that the person who took the knapsack had any clue about what they were getting.”
“So?”
“So when they discover that the only thing they stole is some old, yellowed pages of music manuscript…well, they probably just dumped the whole thing in the nearest trash barrel.”
“Unless they took it back to wherever they live before they looked at it. They’re not going to stop right down the block and examine the contents.”
David nodded his head slightly. “You’re right. They probably wouldn’t dump the knapsack right down the street. They’d probably wait until they got a few blocks away and determined that no one was following them. But still, there can’t be that much area for you to cover.”
“Well I scanned every trash barrel for a couple of blocks and…nothing. I suppose I could go back and widen the search.”
“Of course. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”
Jeremy grimaced. “Well, I’m not sure. Not at all. What if the thief doesn’t really know what he’s got but figures it might be valuable?”
“Maybe a pawn shop?”
“Right. That’s next on my list. How many pawn shops has Philly got?”
“Probably more than you think, but the thief would probably stop at the first one he saw.”
“I’ll check on everyone in the neighborhood. But there’s one thing that’s bothering me. What if the thief does know what he’s got because he knew it before he stole it?”
“You mean somebody who’d been tailing you and watching for his chance?”
“Right.”
“Well that should be simple enough to check on,” David said, grabbing a pad of paper from the top of the piano. “Who did you say you told about the manuscript?”
“Like I said…just a few people,” Jeremy said, frustration growing on his face. “Wade Nelson is one. He’s another American pianist who was hanging around in London. Maybe you know him?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” replied David, quickly scratching Nelson’s name into his notepad. “So who else?”
“Well, Danny Moore…he’s here in Philly. I called him this morning before I called you. He used to work at a music store downtown, before most of them closed down. I thought maybe he could give me some idea of the value of such a thing. He wasn't much help but he did tell me about how a manuscript of Beethoven’s ninth symphony that sold in England for several million more than a dozen or so years ago.”
“Oh, really? Do you trust this guy?”
“Sure. Why not? No reason not to.”
“Alright, that’s good, I guess. By the way, where will you be living now that you’re back in town?”
“A little apartment on Winston Street. Horrible place.”
“Why are you living in a horrible place?”
Jeremy frowned. “Well that’s an unusually stupid question. It’s cheap, or at least as cheap as I can get.”
“Hey, I’m not living in the Taj Mahal either, but at least my apartment is in a decent building. I thought you were the one with money around here. How about those concerts you just played in England?”
“You’re kidding…right? You know those small orchestras pay terribly. And I’ve got expenses you know. I can’t walk in there looking like a pauper. Besides I’ve got old loans to pay back.”
“Student loans? I thought the conservatory gave you a full ride.”
“Yeah, well not everything is free in Philly. The only reason you don’t know that is because you live like a damn monk.”
David forced a smile. “Hey, I thought we were talking about your problems. Not mine.”
“Well, everybody’s got problems, don’t they? But right now I’m only worried about one thing—that missing Beethoven manuscript.”
David nodded. “Right! Okay, let’s keep going over this. You’ve told two guys about this…and you told Melissa about it. Is that it?”
Jeremy hesitated. “I think so. That’s all I can remember. I was pretty excited about the manuscript when I first discovered it.”
“And this Wade Nelson is still in London?”
“Yeah. Unless he followed me here on the next plane, which I highly doubt.”
“But Danny Moore lives here in Philly, right?”
“Right…I’ll call him. But I’m not sure quite what I’m going to say. I can’t exactly ask him if he stole the first two pages of a multi-million dollar manuscript.”
“No, you can’t,” David said calmly, “but you can ask him if he let any information about the manuscript slip out when talking to anybody else.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’ll call him tonight.”
“So now I guess we call the police,” David said, folding his notepad closed.
“Uh…I don’t think so. No police,” Jeremy said, shaking his head slowly.
“No police? But you’ve been the victim of a crime. Somebody just stole what might be part of a multi-million manuscript from you.”
“Yes, I know. But…no, I don’t think so,” Jeremy said, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
“For God’s sake, why not?”
“The police would never understand something like this. They wouldn’t see two pages of an old manuscript as valuable, and they wouldn’t bother to even look for them. We’d just be wasting our time filling out a bunch of forms for nothing.”
“Now hold on,” David protested. “The police pick up pickpockets and suspicious looking vagrants all of the time. What if one of them happens to be in possession of your Beethoven manuscript? If they police don’t know anybody’s looking for it, they’ll probably ignore it.”
“They’ll ignore it anyway,” said Jeremy gloomily. “What do they care about Beethoven?”
“Mmm,” David replied, his finger going to his chin. “It just so happens that I have an inside connection in the Philly police force…an old friend from our conservatory days that you might
remember—Sean McGill, a tenor in his former life.”
“A tenor? Good God! Working for the police department? Are you serious?”
“Perfectly. We use to be good friends, but I haven’t seen him for a while. But one thing’s for sure, he’ll know who Beethoven is.”
“Yeah, but he’s a tenor,” Jeremy said dryly.
“Oh, shut up!” David fired back. “He’s a good guy. I think he may even be a detective by now from what I’ve heard. Anyway it’s worth a shot. It’ll give me an excuse to meet up with him again. You know…talk about old times and former teachers. If that’s not a bonding experience, I don’t know what is.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Positively. You pursue the local pawn shops and get in touch with Nelson and especially Moore. I’ll contact the long arm of the law.”