Free Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens by Patrice Greenwood Page A

cast, because the crew and everyone else are supposed to stay away from the dressing rooms, especially the principals’ dressing rooms.”
    “That doesn’t rule the others out,” Tony said.
    “I know, but that’s where I’m starting. I looked at the program to see how many male principles were in the cast. I’ve seen the dressing rooms backstage. Mr. Solano would have been sharing with the other principal men—five of them. Of those, two were not onstage at all during Act Three. So either they were away from the dressing room for some reason, or they were involved in the crime.”
    He continued to gaze at me for a moment, then unfolded his arms. “Not bad. Those two are each other’s alibi. Matthew Carter and Geoffrey Harrison. No one else can confirm it.”
    “Oh?” I was pretty sure I remembered those names: the Sacristan and Angelotti.
    Tony grimaced. “They claim they were having a quickie in the rehearsal hall.”
    My jaw dropped. “During a performance ?”
    He shrugged. “That’s what they say.”
    I was embarrassed. I knew that opera, like any of the arts, attracted people who enjoyed alternative lifestyles. Would Tony now think it was a hotbed of gay love?
    I took a bite of sandwich, thinking as I chewed. “But why would they want to kill Mr. Solano? That’s where I don’t know enough.”
    “Neither do I. They’re pretty convincingly upset about his death. Other cast members describe their reaction after the curtain call as being shocked.”
    “You don’t think it was them.”
    “It’s too early to think anything.”
    “Was that what you wanted to bounce off me?”
    “No.”
    “You want this egg?”
    “No.”
    I ate the egg and watched him pace a little more, less agitated this time. He ran a hand through his hair, then returned to the visitor’s chair at my desk.
    “Not a word of this to anyone else,” he said. “Not your aunt, not even your best friend.”
    “OK.”
    He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you know about the director?”
    “The director of Tosca ?”
    “Yes.”
    “Nothing. I could look up his name—”
    “Nothing at all? You’ve never met him, or seen him?”
    “No.”
    “What about his wife?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about him, really.”
    “They had an argument during the performance.”
    Argument. A faint bell rang in my head.
    “Was she the arguing woman?”
    Tony’s brows twitched together. “The what?”
    “Remember when we went up to the gift shop, and there was a couple in front of us who stopped walking? I thought they’d been arguing.”
    Tony raised his chin. “Go on.”
    “Well, I was out in the courtyard with Mr. Ingraham a little later, and I saw the man from that couple talking with another man, and lighting a cigar. I asked Mr. Ingraham who he was, and he thought he might have been the director of Tosca . He said the other man was the General Director.”
    “OK.”
    “Then later I saw the arguing woman again. Remember? In the second intermission, we almost ran into her. She was wearing a fur coat, and heading for the south side of the theatre.”
    “Did you see where she went?”
    “No…”
    “Damn.”
    “I saw her go out the south gate and assumed she was heading for the bar,” I added. “I guess she could have gone through the stage door, but that would have attracted a lot of attention, wouldn’t it? It’s not the sort of thing you do—going backstage during a performance—even if you’re the director’s wife.”
    “She didn’t go through the stage door.”
    I took a sip of tea. “She could have gone around, outside,” I said, thinking back to the last time I took the backstage tour. “That wouldn’t have been as conspicuous. I think there’s a breezeway to the south that leads to the back of the stage. It’s a long walk, though. She would have had to pass the costume shop and the props room to get to the dressing rooms. A lot of people would have seen her.”
    A slow smile