Death At The Conservatory John Benson watched Charles Manning sip from his water bottle. Throwing a smug, disdainful smile at John, Charles set the bottle on the hall table and mounted the stairs leading to the stage, the first contestant in the conservatory‘s annual piano commencement contest. John clenched his fingers into hard fists, feeling his face flush. How he hated that arrogant bastard! He visualized driving his fists into Charles's face, again and again, wiping away that smug smile. Charles and his teacher, Dr. Stein, walked onto the stage and sat at the pianos. They glanced at each other and were ready. Charles was performing Franz Liszt's Totentanz with Dr. Stein playing the orchestral part, stating the theme. Charles repeated the theme with a flurry of chords and scales which ran to the highest keys on the keyboard. He played flying octaves and huge chords at a daring tempo. The powerful Totentanz resounded through the hall with the audience murmuring in awe and excitement. All except John. He sat rigid, struggling for control. Charles would win the contest and beat him. John knew that now. John glanced at Stacey Cook sitting next to him. She watched Charles play; strong, graceful hands at rest in her lap, her lovely face a smooth, perfect mask. Only her glittering eyes revealed her true feelings. John's hands clenched again. He could forgive Charles for being arrogant. He could forgive him for being a better pianist. He could even forgive him stealing Stacey away from him -- if he'd loved her. He only wanted her happiness. But John would never forgive Charles for abusing and then dumping the woman he loved. Suddenly Charles stopped playing, drawing John's attention back to the stage. Charles's fingers clawed at his reddening throat, his pale face became scarlet. Beads of perspiration broke out all over his face as he gasped for air. He tore open his shirt to suck air into his lungs. His head and torso fell forward, smashing against the keyboard, causing a barrage of harsh, loud tones. He fell to the floor and his body jerked with twists and turns. His legs quivered, and finally he lay completely still. Worried, John looked at Dr. Stein. The old professor sat quietly, his hands and face stark white. The audience was frozen for an instant but then screamed. "Oh my God!" "What happened?" "What's wrong?" "Call the paramedics!" John saw a woman in the audience run on to the stage. She knelt beside Charles, placed her fingertips on the side of his neck and then his wrist; then looked up and said, "He's dead." Dr. Ludwig, president of the conservatory, hurried onto the stage, raised his hands to quiet the audience and said, "I'm so sorry. This is devastating, a tragic moment. Please try to remain calm. We called the paramedics and they're on the way." Dr. Stein, and another teacher, Madam Charnova, sat in the hall passage leading to the stage. Some of John's piano major friends stood outside the hall. As he walked toward them he became weak and his hands trembled. Rhonda looked at him and said, "Here John, sit down. You don't look so hot." She pulled a chair over to him. He sat and listened to his friends and teachers. Rhonda said, "I don't believe it. I never had any good feelings for Charles, but I can't believe he's dead." "It’s terrible." said Madam Charnova. "He truly was a gifted pianist." Dr. Stein's face was ashen as he said, "He was my student but he was also like my son. I've lost him." "Do you think he had a heart attack?" asked Fred. "He gasped for air; then his body went into convulsions. I don't know if that's what a heart attack looks like," said Stacey. John said, "Look, that's Charles's water bottle on the table. It has a red # 1 on its side." He rose from his chair, walked to the table, and was about to pick it up when a voice said, "Don't touch that!" John froze. He turned and saw a stocky, balding man in a dark suit. Holding out a badge, the man said, "I'm Detective Schmidt from homicide." He held out identification for all to see. The detective took rubber gloves from his pocket, put them on his hands, picked up the water bottle, and handed it to another policeman who was lso wearing gloves. John asked, "Sir, why are you here? Why a homicide detective? Do you think Charles was murdered?" Detective Schmidt said, "Our dispatcher said the caller reported a young man died violently, that he experienced severe convulsions while gasping for air. We're not ruling out a heart attack, but we're also looking at a possible homicide. We'll know more after the autopsy." Detective Schmidt continued, "I'd like to ask each of you a few questions. Your answers will help me understand who the deceased was. Ma’am, may I start with you?" Schmidt looked at Madam Charnova. She nodded. "Your name, please." "Eleanor Charnova." "Did you know the deceased personally?" "I knew him only as a student. He was in one of my theory classes last year. I've heard him play. He was a very talented pianist." Schmidt asked, "Can you can think of any reason anybody would want to harm him?" "As I said, I didn't know him personally, but at times he was a braggart and arrogant." John recalled the afternoon that Charles told Madam Charnova she was a hack pianist. She was so humiliated she cried. The detective turned and looked at Dr. Stein. "May I ask you a few questions, sir? You are?" "I'm Dr. Herbert Stein. I was Charles's piano teacher. He studied with me for the past four years." "During that time did you become close?" Dr. Stein said, "Yes, that's true. Charles told me he never knew his father, that he died when Charles was quite young. Charles at times called me Uncle Herb." Detective Schmidt asked, "Did he ever tell you that he feared for his life or that someone was out to get him?" "No but he realized he didn't have many friends. He once said, 'I guess I'm too critical for anyone to want me for a friend.' He was basically a loner." "Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Dr. Stein said, "He was my most gifted pupil and I thought of him as my own son. I will always feel grief when I think of him." John thought of two incidents when Dr. Stein looked very sad after he had given Charles a piano lesson. He looked dejected and worried. Knowing Charles, he was probably nasty to Dr. Stein. The detective looked at John and said, "Who are you, young man?" "John Benson." Detective Schmidt asked, "Did you personally know the deceased?" "No, I didn't have too much to do with Charles. He wasn't one of my favorite people." "Did Charles do anything to make you feel this way?" John said, "As Madam Charnova said, Charles was arrogant and a braggart. He liked to let everyone know how great he was and he didn't pull any punches letting you know how mediocre you were." John suddenly thought, I no longer have to be second best pianist and maybe Stacey will come back to me. He felt quick flashes of guilt and joy. The detective turned to Stacey and asked, "What about you, Miss? Your name and did you know the deceased personally?" "Stacey Cook. I agree with everything Madam Charnova and John said. I disliked Charles. He enjoyed hurting people. At one time I was attracted to him. He was handsome, intelligent, and a fine pianist, but in a way, he was evil. He looked for your weakness and then he used it to humiliate you. He told me how pretty I was and what a fine pianist I was. Behind my back he told everyone how plain I was and that I was a mediocre pianist." John saw Stacey's face turn red and her knuckles become white. The detective looked at Dr. Ludwig. "Dr. Ludwig, would you please tell me about the deceased's family? Did he have any living relatives?" Dr. Ludwig said, "Charles told me his father died when he was three or four. His mother suffers from Alzheimer's disease and is in a nursing home. He had no sisters or brothers and never mentioned any living relatives." "And your name young lady?" "I'm Rhonda O'Reilly. Charles was inconsiderate and selfish. He was out to serve Charles and only Charles. Maybe if he met the right person he could have changed. His death was gruesome and I cringe just thinking about it." Detective Schmidt looked at Fred and asked, "And you are?" "Fred English. Charles was one of the finest pianists at the conservatory. I guess I didn't pay too much attention to his sarcasm since he was friendly to me. This morning he stopped by my practice room and told me he was worried. I asked him what he was worried about. I told him that I thought he'd probably win 1st place in the commencement contest. He said it wasn't that. He wouldn't tell me anything else but said we'd all know about it very soon." "Very interesting," said Schmidt. "If you remember anything else, please call me." The detective handed Fred and the rest of the group his card. "I thank each of you for your time and candid answers. I should have the autopsy results by tomorrow or Wednesday. Then we'll know the cause of death." Other officers took down the audience's names, addresses, phone numbers and then they were excused. Wednesday morning Dr. Ludwig brought Dr. Stein, Madam Charnova, and the piano majors into his studio. He said, "Detective Schmidt called and said he'd meet us here at 10:30. It's 10:25 so he should be here in a few minutes." John looked at the group. Dr. Stein and Madam Charnova had dark rings under their eyes, and his friends didn't look as they usually did, either. Stacey sat staring at the floor with her hands tightly clasped, and Rhonda paced the floor. Fred scowled and stared at the ceiling. John had butterflies in his stomach. Everyone was anxious to hear what Detective Schmidt had to say. There was a knock at the door and Dr. Ludwig greeted Detective Schmidt. "Please come in. We're all here waiting for you." John watched the detective enter and pass his eyes over the group. "Thank you all for coming. I assumed you were curious about the results of the autopsy, and they just came in this morning. Charles's death was a homicide. The autopsy showed a lethal dose of strychnine. The pathologist said it was enough to kill five men. Charles's water bottle also tested positive for strychnine. I'm thinking he was the kind of guy who always carried his water bottle around with him. I see a lot of that these days with you young people. The person who wanted to kill Charles knew this and waited for the opportunity to drop some strychnine in his bottle. Not very complicated." John asked, "Detective Schmidt, do you think one of us murdered Charles?" "You're all suspects. All of you hated Charles and maybe envied him. But relax, I'm not reading anyone the Miranda yet. The murderer is clever but he or she made a mistake. All I ask is that you cooperate. If you think of anything, I want to know about it. Like they say in the movies, don't leave town. That's all for now." As they left the studio John got chills thinking that one of his friends or teachers killed Charles. They all walked very slowly in silence, each with a look as if a judge just sentenced them. They all felt a cloud of gloom and fear. John thought, who was the killer? He turned and slowly looked at the teachers and his fellow piano majors. The piano commencement contest was rescheduled for the following Monday, and the students spent more hours practicing for the contest. John was inspired and thought his Schumann sounded good. Maestro Schumann might approve. Friday morning just before nine o'clock, Dr. Ludwig invited the students, Dr. Stein and Madam Charnova to his studio. They sat and a few moments later, Detective Schmidt and a uniformed police woman joined the group. Detective Schmidt nodded at Dr. Stein. Dr. Stein stood before the group and said, "Last Wednesday morning I went to my mailbox and brought the mail back to my apartment. I opened a letter with no return address and this is what I read: "Dear Uncle Herb, I never meant to hurt you. You were the father I never had. Please forgive me for all the unkind things I said or did to you. I recently learned that I am going deaf. A few months ago I was having difficulty hearing the music I was playing on the piano. Since then my difficulty has worsened. Music was my love, my soul, my life. I could not live in a deaf world. By the time you read these lines I will be dead. "I drank poison from my water bottle just before the contest so I would have enough time to play the Totentanz. I wanted people to remember me but I didn't want anyone to be accused of murdering me. Please remember me and forgive me. Charles." Dr. Stein said, "He typed the address and all of the letter except the last line, he wrote." Madam Charvova was crying and said, "Oh dear Lord, the poor boy, oh my, oh my." Tears ran down her cheeks. Rhonda and Stacey both began to cry. "I was so wrong about him," said Stacey. "If only I knew." "It explains why he said the things he said. He wasn't his real self," said Rhonda. "Beethoven wrote that he was near committing suicide on several occasions when he realized he was going deaf. That his composing was the only thing that saved him from killing himself," said Dr. Stein. "As you know, Beethoven was a great pianist and everyone in Vienna loved to hear him play. His deafness began when he was only twenty-seven and he had no idea how loud or soft he was playing or if he was playing the right notes. He was devastated and gave up performing and he loved to perform." John looked at Fred. His eyes were moist and red and he said, "Charles was a brilliant pianist, but unlike Beethoven, he didn't compose music. He felt he had nothing else to live for. It's so tragic. I'm very sad that he's no longer with us." John bowed his head and said, "If you can hear me, Charles, please forgive me for all the rotten things I said to you. You were great, I will miss you." Detective Schmidt said, "Charles's death was very unfortunate. From what everyone has told me, he was a fine pianist and he had a huge ego. He also had a sarcastic tongue for everyone. He was a dedicated performer and that's what he lived for. If I had been Charles and I realized I was going deaf, I would make the most of every opportunity to perform." Detective Schmidt continued, "The piano commencement contest was a challenge that Charles believed he would win. He wouldn't end his life without knowing who won. Charles could have waited until the judges announced the winner before he took the poison. Something else turned up that made me believe he didn't commit suicide. My men made a routine search of Charles's apartment. They found a registration receipt for sign language classes at Roosevelt University beginning next week. If Charles knew he was taking his life, why would he spend money for a class he knew he'd never attend? That he registered for the class tells me he was a guy who was trying to face his problem." John frowned, his eyes became intense, and he said, "Then Charles was murdered, and the murderer wrote the suicide letter." Detective Schmidt said, "Yes, that works." Madam Charnova said, "Well then, how did the murderer know Charles was going deaf?" "The murderer was close to Charles even though they didn't get along with each other, and Charles trusted the person. In my years as a detective I've learned to examine every piece of evidence. Dr. Stein called me Wednesday morning and told me about the letter. I told him to bring the letter to the conservatory and not mention it to anyone. I met him here, read the letter, and was willing to accept Charles's death as suicide. But Dr. Stein said the handwriting of the last line didn't look like Charles's. "That's when I asked Dr. Ludwig to give me handwriting samples of his writing, Dr. Stein, Madam Charnova, and all of you students, including Charles. I gave the samples and the suicide letter to my handwriting experts when I got back to the station." The detective paused. John looked at each of the group. Their faces were frozen and all eyes were focused on Detective Schmidt. He slowly paced before them and then said, "My experts all agree on the person who wrote the suicide letter. Stacey Cook, I'm arresting you for the murder of Charles Manning. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..." As the detective recited the Miranda Rights to Stacey, John saw her face instantly become red and she sucked in a deep breath of air. At the same time her knuckles became white as she grabbed the arms of her chair. She jumped from her chair as Schmidt said, "Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you? If so do you waive and give up those rights?" Stacey said, "That's ridiculous! I could never kill Charles!" Detective Schmidt said, "I remind you Ms Cook, you've been told your rights. Your statements can be used against you in a court of law." Schmidt continued and said, "You still cared for Charles even though he dumped you for someone else." Stacey said, "No, that's not true." Detective Schmidt said, "Was there someone else? "No, he said he couldn't get involved. He had a big problem to face." The group looked at Stacey and then Detective Schmidt like spectators at a tennis match. "Didn't he betray you? Didn't he say he thought you were pretty and that you were a wonderful pianist? There was another woman he really cared for, wasn't there? He told her that you were plain and a mediocre pianist, and that you meant nothing to him. You wrote the letter and poisoned Charles. Isn't that so?" Stacey struck her fists on the arms of the chair. Tears ran down her face and her bottom lip curled. She said, "That dirty bastard! Yes, I wrote the letter and I poisoned him, and I'm glad I did!" Detective Schmidt said, "Strychnine is not easy to come by. How were you able to get some?" "My uncle's in construction. He uses it for rats. I told him I had a rat in my basement." The detective said, "We'll take you to the station and then you can call your lawyer." Detective Schmidt handcuffed Stacey as the police woman patted her body for any concealed weapon. Stacey looked at the group and said, "I'm so sorry." The officers led Stacey away. John looked at her. Her lovely hands were manacled, and her pretty face was bowed with guilt. She had done what he had thought to do. John felt alone now. He had lost the one he hated and the one he loved.
Copyright © 2002 Frank Dunsmore |