Pratt walked into the rehearsal room with Ellis. The orchestra was still eating, and the smells of the sandwiches and salads made his stomach rumble. Everyone looked up at them with unfriendly eyes.
Eliza Wanamaker wasn’t hard to spot. She was surrounded by other musicians. It looked like a meeting.
Pratt walked over. “I’d like to speak with you again.”
“Is this about letting us get the hell out of here sometime soon?”
The musicians around her nodded their agreement.
“I’m afraid not. I have some more questions.”
She got to her feet. “I suppose you want to do this in private?”
“That was the idea.”
As they left the room, Pratt could see Ellis in a far corner speaking with Sofia Barna, the piccolo player who’d spent the previous night with Spadafini.
Both had their questions to ask, and hopefully, they’d get the answers they needed.
Twenty minutes later, Ellis and Pratt met to share the information the two women had given them.
Pratt said, “Now it just remains to talk to Mr. Browne and see what he has to say.”
“I’m ready,” Ellis said with a nod.
“No, you’re not. I want you to call the captain and tell him that we want those search warrants-and to step on it. Are you clear on everything?”
The young detective nodded.
“Good. You’ll find me with Browne in his office when you’re done.”
Ellis grinned. “He’ll be thrilled to see me.”
“No doubt.”
Pratt found the orchestra manager still with his boss. Neither of them looked happy.
“Any news, Detective?” both of them asked.
“We’ve made some progress on the huge list of suspects,” Pratt answered. “Mr. Browne, I take it you’re the person most familiar with the members of the orchestra?”
Browne nodded. “I should hope so.”
“Great. I need to discuss some of them with you. It will help greatly in getting us closer to the answers we’re all looking for. Maybe we could use your office to talk?”
Behind his desk, Norris’s face brightened. “Does that mean I might finally be able to go home?”
“Could you stay around just a little bit longer? I’ve asked one of my detectives to come in and take your statement, go over a few things. Is that all right?”
“I suppose it will have to do.”
The uniformed cop stationed outside Browne’s office was gone. Browne and Pratt went inside and made themselves comfortable. On the desk, beside a computer monitor and the phone, was a photo of a rather plain woman and two children, a boy and a girl who looked to be in their early teens.
“Nice-looking family,” Pratt said.
“Thanks.” Browne rested his arms on the desk and leaned forward confidently. “Now, what can I do for you, Detective Pratt?”
“You told me earlier you don’t have much day-to-day contact with members of the orchestra.”
“I said I don’t have time to attend most rehearsals. I am a very busy man. This organization would grind to a halt without me. Of course I had to make sure everyone knew the schedule for rehearsals and concerts. I had to-”
Pratt held up his hand. “Suffice it to say, though, that if anyone knew what was going on with the orchestra’s musicians, it would likely be you.”
Browne smiled. “Of course. It’s part of my job.”
“Obviously, you were also in daily contact with Spadafini.”
“When he was in town, yes.”
“So it’s safe to assume that you would have been aware of the goings-on between him and some of the orchestra’s female members.”
“If you’re referring to Annabelle Lee, I had no idea that anything was going on until she took her own life.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told.”