Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens by Patrice Greenwood

you talked to the British man yet?”
    “British?”
    “The one who was talking about snogging? He was up in the members’ bar; he must have been in the audience.”
    Tony stared past me, as if trying to remember. “No, I haven’t talked to him. If he was in the audience, he’s on the list that the beat cops are handling.”
    “Maybe you could ask them to refer any Britons to you?”
    He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Do you remember exactly what he said about snogging?”
    I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking back. “’Practically snogging him right onstage’, I think. I figured he was talking about Tosca and Cavaradossi. And he said something about someone being upset.”
    Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Who? Do you remember?”
    I closed my eyes, trying to recall the moment. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    “Neil.”
    I opened my eyes to find Tony staring at me intently. “Neil Passaggio.”
    “Is that his name?”
    “Yes. And his wife accused Sandra Usher of sleeping with him.”
    “So … if he was upset by Sandra Usher kissing—whatever his name is—Cavaradossi…”
    “His name is David Ebinger.”
    “Ebinger, OK.” I paused, struggling to keep the names straight.
    “If Neil Passaggio was jealous of Usher kissing her costar,” Tony said, “that supports Mrs. Passaggio’s accusation.”
    “Ugh! But that doesn’t explain the murder.”
    “Unless Sandra Usher was also sleeping with Victor Solano.”
    I stared at him. “We’re going to need a program just to keep track of all the backstage affairs!”
    “Fun, huh?”
    “You’re enjoying this?”
    “It’s my job. And yeah, I do enjoy making progress on an investigation.”
    I, however, did not find it all that enjoyable. Turning over all the detritus of people’s private lives, just to see what could be found. I couldn’t help thinking of compost.
    “Have you talked to Sandra Usher?” I asked.
    “Briefly, last night. I’ll be going back. I left her alone today. She was pretty upset.”
    “I imagine everyone was.”
    “Yeah, but different people show it differently. Some of them were doing the stiff upper lip thing.”
    “Like who?”
    “Ebinger, for one.”
    I picked up the last scone, pulled it apart, and offered half to Tony. He took it, his fingers brushing mine and sending a tingle up my arm.
    “OK, you think Passaggio was jealous of Usher and Ebinger,” I said. “And maybe Usher and Mr. Solano.”
    “Right.”
    “If Usher and Ebinger were involved, and she was also involved with Passaggio and Solano … she’d be exhausted.”
    Tony laughed. “OK, maybe it’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t think she’s actually involved with Ebinger.”
    “Because if she was, wouldn’t Ebinger also have a motive to kill Mr. Solano? I mean if she really was involved with all three of them.”
    Tony looked around my office. “You don’t have a white board, do you?”
    “Sorry, no.”
    “Can you give me some paper, then?”
    I got out a legal pad and a pen and handed them to him. He set the pad on my desk and commenced sketching a diagram of circles with names in them: Usher, Passaggio, Ebinger, Solano. Then he drew lines between the romantic connections, with question marks over some of them.
    “I guess this was a crime of passion,” I mused. “No one in their right mind would plan a murder during a performance.”
    “Stranger things have happened,” Tony said, frowning at his diagram.
    “It would take nerves of steel! Anyone could have walked in. Carter and Harrison should have been in the dressing room.”
    “I wonder if they made a habit of an Act Three quickie?” he said.
    “Or Act Two, for that matter. They’re both just in Act One.”
    “But the chorus isn’t onstage in Act Two. There would have been a lot more people backstage.”
    “Good point. Although if they always took their rendezvous away from backstage, to the rehearsal hall or even out in the woods, it might not matter so