Read Online A Knight at the Opera by Kenneth L. Levinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth L. Levinson
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clenching her
hands against the edge of the table. "I sure as hell am! What was he doing at the opera with
that woman?"
"You really have no idea?"
"No, not an inkling. And it's making me crazy. Karl wasn't an opera fan. His thing
was basketball. And he never mentioned any other woman in his life. Other than his first
wife, of course. And whenever he said her name, it was followed by, 'that disgusting
cow.'"
"Could she have been some business acquaintance?"
"Not that I know of. I asked Conner and Larry about it at the house yesterday,
and they said they had no idea who she could have been. Larry implied that he thought it
was me. Of course, I don't expect they'd tell me the truth, even if they knew."
"Did your husband have a secretary?"
She shook her head. "No. He only worked with the staff accountants, and almost
all of those are men."
"I noticed that," I said. "When we first walked into the office and I realized that
every name on the staff directory was male, I figured that your odds of being asked to join
the firm were slim."
"Karl thought it was wrong, but he really couldn't do anything about it."
"Really? Then how did he figure they were going to take you in as a
partner?"
She frowned as she thought about that. "I don't know. That's a good question.
I'm almost embarrassed to say this, but sometimes Karl was kind of naive. Besides, I'm sure
he had no idea he was going to die any time soon."
"We never do," I observed. "We all think we're indestructible. But we're
not."
She frowned. "That's not a very uplifting thought."
"Sorry," I said with a sheepish grin. "So, going back to the woman at the opera,
are you sure she wasn't one of the PMBT staff?"
"Yes. Whoever he was with that night, she wasn't an employee." She set down
her glass of iced tea and looked me in the eyes. "Mr. Larsen, I'd really like to know who she
was. And what she was doing there with him. And I don't care how much it costs me to find
out."
"The police are already doing their best to find her," I said. "And you can call me
Adam, if you'd like."
"Thank you. But only if you'll call me Joyce."
"Fair enough."
"Now I have a question," she said. "Why would the police be looking for her? I
thought she left before he fell over the balcony."
"That's what I understand, as well."
"Then why--"
"Because, depending on the dosage, if she had slipped him the Rohypnol, which
was illegal for her to possess, it could have made him susceptible to losing his balance and
falling over that balcony."
Her eyes widened. "Are you saying he was drugged?"
"I don't know. But if he was, it would certainly make the woman he was with a
'person of interest.'"
"Yes, I can see that."
"Joyce, had Karl ever lied to you before about where he was going?"
"Not that I know of. Although, since all of this happened, I've been
wondering."
"What about credit card records?" I said. "Have you looked at any of his
bills?"
"You know, there's something funny about that. I--"
The waitress appeared at our table with a tray of food, and Joyce stopped
talking. After we'd been served and she had taken a few bites of lunch, I prompted her, "You
were saying something was funny about his credit card bills."
She gave me a puzzled look. "Credit cards? Oh, right. A couple of weeks ago, he
started looking through all of his credit card records, as though he was searching for
something. I asked him about it, but he said it was nothing and not to worry about it. He
thought he might have been charged for something he hadn't ordered."
"But you didn't believe him?" I said.
"At the time, I did. There was no reason not to. I suppose that now I'm not so
sure."
"Well, then I'd suggest you take a look at his credit card bills. They might shed
some light on all this."
"The police already asked me to sign a permission form, so that they can request
copies of his bills."
"Did you give it to them?"
"I did. Is that a problem?"
"No. But next time you get a request like that, please don't do
hands against the edge of the table. "I sure as hell am! What was he doing at the opera with
that woman?"
"You really have no idea?"
"No, not an inkling. And it's making me crazy. Karl wasn't an opera fan. His thing
was basketball. And he never mentioned any other woman in his life. Other than his first
wife, of course. And whenever he said her name, it was followed by, 'that disgusting
cow.'"
"Could she have been some business acquaintance?"
"Not that I know of. I asked Conner and Larry about it at the house yesterday,
and they said they had no idea who she could have been. Larry implied that he thought it
was me. Of course, I don't expect they'd tell me the truth, even if they knew."
"Did your husband have a secretary?"
She shook her head. "No. He only worked with the staff accountants, and almost
all of those are men."
"I noticed that," I said. "When we first walked into the office and I realized that
every name on the staff directory was male, I figured that your odds of being asked to join
the firm were slim."
"Karl thought it was wrong, but he really couldn't do anything about it."
"Really? Then how did he figure they were going to take you in as a
partner?"
She frowned as she thought about that. "I don't know. That's a good question.
I'm almost embarrassed to say this, but sometimes Karl was kind of naive. Besides, I'm sure
he had no idea he was going to die any time soon."
"We never do," I observed. "We all think we're indestructible. But we're
not."
She frowned. "That's not a very uplifting thought."
"Sorry," I said with a sheepish grin. "So, going back to the woman at the opera,
are you sure she wasn't one of the PMBT staff?"
"Yes. Whoever he was with that night, she wasn't an employee." She set down
her glass of iced tea and looked me in the eyes. "Mr. Larsen, I'd really like to know who she
was. And what she was doing there with him. And I don't care how much it costs me to find
out."
"The police are already doing their best to find her," I said. "And you can call me
Adam, if you'd like."
"Thank you. But only if you'll call me Joyce."
"Fair enough."
"Now I have a question," she said. "Why would the police be looking for her? I
thought she left before he fell over the balcony."
"That's what I understand, as well."
"Then why--"
"Because, depending on the dosage, if she had slipped him the Rohypnol, which
was illegal for her to possess, it could have made him susceptible to losing his balance and
falling over that balcony."
Her eyes widened. "Are you saying he was drugged?"
"I don't know. But if he was, it would certainly make the woman he was with a
'person of interest.'"
"Yes, I can see that."
"Joyce, had Karl ever lied to you before about where he was going?"
"Not that I know of. Although, since all of this happened, I've been
wondering."
"What about credit card records?" I said. "Have you looked at any of his
bills?"
"You know, there's something funny about that. I--"
The waitress appeared at our table with a tray of food, and Joyce stopped
talking. After we'd been served and she had taken a few bites of lunch, I prompted her, "You
were saying something was funny about his credit card bills."
She gave me a puzzled look. "Credit cards? Oh, right. A couple of weeks ago, he
started looking through all of his credit card records, as though he was searching for
something. I asked him about it, but he said it was nothing and not to worry about it. He
thought he might have been charged for something he hadn't ordered."
"But you didn't believe him?" I said.
"At the time, I did. There was no reason not to. I suppose that now I'm not so
sure."
"Well, then I'd suggest you take a look at his credit card bills. They might shed
some light on all this."
"The police already asked me to sign a permission form, so that they can request
copies of his bills."
"Did you give it to them?"
"I did. Is that a problem?"
"No. But next time you get a request like that, please don't do
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