Suspicion of Deceit by Barbara Parker Page A

Castillo—everything except how and where Anthony had met him.
    Irene pressed fingers to her heart. "Sometimes—not too often, but sometimes—I think I ought to move to Tampa and live with my sister."
    "But how boring," Gail said, "and then who would I rely on for gossip?"
    "I don't gossip."
    "No, you're my . . . snitch." Gail laughed. "My counterspy, my mole in the organization." Then she grew serious. "And you never heard any of this."
    Irene fixed her with a sharp blue gaze. "They could tear out my nails. All right. What are you after?"
    "Just a couple of small favors. I need a photo and resume of Tom Nolan from the files, if you have it." Irene said that they did. Gail continued, "I also need to find the English soprano he sang with in Lucia di Lammermoor before they went to Cuba together. This was a performance in Dortmund, Germany. Rebecca and Lloyd Dixon were there, but I don't want to ask them because somebody—probably Lloyd—told Tom Nolan to lie to me about his trip. It wouldn't be too hard to find the soprano, would it?"
    "I shouldn't think so. Lloyd told him to lie to you? Well, no wonder it sounded so innocent. All right, I'll call the Stadts Theater in Dortmund," Irene said after a moment. "No problem. Now for the rest of it." Opening a filing cabinet, she walked her fingers over the tops of folders, then pulled out one of them.
    A black-and-white publicity photograph showed Nolan looking straight into the camera. No smile, just hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes. His performance credits covered four pages. There were copies of reviews from major newspapers. His appearance in Havana was not mentioned.
    Gail returned the photo and papers to the folder. "When Rebecca gets here, tell her I need to talk to her. Meanwhile, I'm going to find Tom Nolan. Could you make me two copies of these? I'll be back in a few minutes."
    Irene curled one small hand around Gail's elbow. "Darling, what about Mr. Pedrosa's birthday party on Saturday? Should we go? Maybe you should discuss it with Anthony. It might be too awkward for everyone."
    "I refuse to allow Octavio Reyes to spoil it," Gail said. "Of course we'll go. Don't worry. It's going to be fine."

    The main rehearsal hall was generally used by the orchestra. Today the chairs and music stands were in a far corner, and the wood floor was marked with different colors of tape, indicating the various stage sets for Don Giovanni, still under construction elsewhere in the building.
    There were two dozen people in the room, dressed casually in jeans and sneakers and faded T-shirts. Some were singers, others not. It was hard to tell the difference. Gail assumed that some of the younger ones were students. One man walked backward unreeling a measuring tape. A woman on her hands and knees was sticking blue tape on the floor. The director and conductor stood by the piano. The pianist played a few bars, then stopped for some discussion.
    Gail had come through the corridor that linked the offices to the other parts of the building—rehearsal rooms, dressing rooms, carpentry and costume shops, finally the theater itself. The receptionist had told her that the principal singers would be in the orchestra room working on blocking. Through the partially open door Gail could see most of the room, but she did not see Thomas Nolan.
    She came a step farther inside, then stopped.
    Lloyd Dixon was walking in her direction. Having been spotted, Gail had no choice but to go in. She let the door click shut behind her.
    It had taken her a few seconds to recognize him in loose khaki pants and a brown leather bomber jacket. Long use had left scratches and nicks, wearing the leather to suede around the zipper. There was a plaid shirt underneath. Dixon looked her up and down, a quick male appraisal. "Well, it's our lawyer. Tom says you spoke to him Monday. Back for a follow-up?"
    She noticed Thomas Nolan a few yards behind Dixon. Apparently they. had been talking. Nolan glanced back at