Claire McNab - Dead Certain

“Would she be able to supplant Alanna Brooks so easily?”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, Corinne was sure of it, but it was unlikely, as I had the final say.”

“I got the impression that someone of Raeburn’s stature would have some clout…” She waited to see how he would respond.

His mouth tightened. “Wishful thinking, in most cases. I’m always willing to accommodate reasonable requests, but Alanna is a guaranteed draw-card-Corinne’s still on the way up, and she may never make it to the top. More than that, there’s a difference in voice quality. Corinne has a brilliant, light soprano, with a wide range and a beautiful top register-but it’s a young voice. Alanna’s voice is mature, although her range may have contracted slightly. But offsetting this is the rich palette of tonal qualities she has available.”

“Does this mean you would favor Alanna Brooks?”

The question seemed to irritate him. “Probably,” he snapped.

Carol said mildly, “So the choice of diva was a point of conflict between you and Mr. Raeburn?”

“That’s too strong,” he said emphatically. “I told you, Collis didn’t like the criticism, that’s all.”

As he was speaking, Carol saw Mark Bourke approaching. She introduced him to Livingston, who smiled briefly, then ostentatiously checked his watch. “Inspector, Sergeant-I really don’t have much time…”

Bourke unzipped a thin brown briefcase. “Mr. Livingston,” he said pleasantly, “I wonder if you’d care to comment on some financial matters.”

Livingston looked astonished. “Financial matters?”

“Also some legal undertakings,” said Bourke. “We understand you’d had preliminary talks with your lawyers about a possible attempt by Raeburn to break his contract with Eureka Opera, and, more specifically, the legal obligation he had to sing the lead in Welton’s Dingo .”

“These were mere administrative matters.” Livingston’s full baritone swelled with indignation.

“He was Eureka’s major star, wasn’t he?” When Livingston reluctantly nodded, Bourke went on, “I imagine if he left the company, you would find it a financial, as well as a professional, loss?”

“I imagine so.”

Carol said, “We’ve been told he was very unhappy about Graeme Welton’s new opera.”

“Collis was a singer,” Livingston snapped, “not a composer. He was in no position to judge the success or otherwise of Dingo .”

“Kenneth Raeburn told me the opera was, to quote him, an unmitigated disaster,” said Carol, curious to see what impact the mention of Collis’s father might have.

“Kenneth Raeburn,” Livingston sneered, “is a jumped-up little prick who had the good fortune to have a son who could sing. And he’s milked it for all it’s worth. Why don’t you have a look at his financial dealings? Think you’ll find he’s been taking Collis for a ride for years.”

Bourke consulted some papers. “Would it be true to say that Eureka is close to bankruptcy?”

“No, it would not! Grand opera’s a massively expensive business, Sergeant, that’s why companies need government and sponsorship support. Eureka’s no different from any other artistic or cultural body in Australia in that respect.”

“But wouldn’t a battle in the courts with one of your major stars not only be expensive in terms of legal costs, but also affect future corporate support for the company?”

Glaring at Bourke, Livingston said, “There wasn’t going to be a battle! I spoke to Collis and we settled our differences. He was quite happy to sing the lead in Dingo .”

Carol made sure she sounded politely skeptical. “So all your problems with Collis were resolved?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t seem to have told anyone else about your agreement on these matters.”

Livingston made an impatient gesture. “He would hardly have had time, Inspector. We spoke on the day he died.”

“This astonishes me a little,” said Carol, “since only a few minutes ago you couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to him. You thought it was a week or so ago…”

Livingston straightened his silk tie. “Frankly, Inspector, ” he said with a tight smile, “I’d hoped to avoid any discussion of this fight with Collis. I mean, it didn’t reflect well on him, and after the tragedy I thought it wrong to bring up something that had, with his death, become quite academic.”

“So it was a deliberate lie?”

“Well, if you want to put it in those terms, yes. But not one that did any harm, you understand.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Livingston. If, as you say, this major area of conflict had been resolved, then that would have some bearing on his state of mind.”

“Inspector Ashton, you must forgive me,” he said, his change of tone indicating he was hastily making amends. “I’m very sorry if I’ve misled you in any way.”

“When and where did you speak to Raeburn?”

Her cool tone seemed to subdue him. “During the afternoon. I’m not sure of the exact time, but it was here, in the Opera House, before he checked into his hotel.”

“Before or after he spoke with Lloyd Clancy?”

Livingston fingered his scar. “I can’t tell you that.”

Carol thought Mark Bourke looked relaxed, disarming as he said, “And I suppose no one else was present?”

“No. No one.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone about this?”

“I would have done so, but when he died…”

“Ah yes, when he died,” said Bourke with polite regret. “Now let’s get this straight. You spoke to Raeburn on Saturday afternoon, and the earliest you could have known about his death was Monday. I don’t understand why you didn’t give the good news about Dingo to Graeme Welton.”

“I didn’t get around to it… And it was the weekend, too…”

“Would you say that you and Graeme Welton were good friends?”

Livingston stared at Carol. “Friends? More colleagues, I’d say. Why?” Before she could respond, he added furiously, “What’s he been saying about me? He’s a congenital liar, you know. Whatever story he’s fed you, it isn’t true.”

Ignoring his outburst, Bourke said, “Would you mind outlining your movements for Saturday and Sunday?”

“Why?”

Bourke sounded faintly surprised. “To assist our inquiries, of course.”

Nicole Raeburn, accompanied by a frowning, fidgeting Graeme Welton, and with Anne Newsome standing guard, sat waiting when Carol got back. Carol showed them into her office, then had a private word with Anne.

“Did you find the journal Martha Brownlye mentioned?”

“No. It isn’t with the papers taken from the house. I called Martha and asked her to check with Kenneth Raeburn, in case he took it, but he says he didn’t touch it. I got a full description in case we’d overlooked it in all the stuff brought in, but I’ve double-checked and it’s definitely disappeared.”

The anonymous public-service furniture and serviceable colors of Carol’s office provided a bland background to Nicole Raeburn’s bright candy-pink dress and her highly dramatic gestures. “Inspector Ashton! I just had to see you!” She added with a petulant frown, her heavy head of hair tilted on a too-thin neck, “They wouldn’t let us in, downstairs. Said it was security, or something, but I made a fuss and your constable came and got Welty and me. I like her. What’s her name?”

“Detective Constable Anne Newsome.”

Nicole giggled. “Did you use the title to remind us that you’re police officers?” she said archly. She turned to Welton. “Do you feel a little bit intimidated, Welty?”

Graeme Welton looked as though he was there on sufferance. He made an indeterminate sound and sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping a double tattoo on the armrests.