Victor ran his fingers through his hair. “You did not write this note,” he repeated.
“No, I most certainly did not,” Melody answered. “Why would I?”
“I thought perhaps you wanted to meet to talk to me about the orchestra,” Victor said. “About how … unhappy you are.”
Melody looked surprised. “Unhappy? What makes you think I’m … unhappy, Victor?”
“My dear, you have been with the orchestra a long time. I know you well.” Victor put his arm around Melody’s shoulders. “Now, let’s get on with your practice.” He led her off toward the theater.
“What was all that about?” Benny wanted to know.
“Someone wrote Victor a note and signed Melody’s name,” Jessie answered.
Benny shook his head. That was not what he had meant. “About Melody being unhappy. She doesn’t look unhappy.”
“We can talk about that later,” Henry said. “Now, we have to figure out who wrote that note.”
“And why,” Jessie added.
Violin music drifted into the room.
Violet said, “Oh, we’re missing Melody’s practice,” and hurried toward the auditorium.
The others followed. Perhaps an idea would come to them as they listened to Melody’s solo performance.
They slipped into front row seats. Down the aisle, Victor’s head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. They thought he might be sleeping. On stage, Melody swayed gently as she played. She moved the bow over the strings with a light, sure touch. Under her skillful fingers, the violin seemed to come alive.
“I’ll never be able to play like that,” Violet whispered.
“Sure you will,” Henry said. “It just takes practice.”
Suddenly, Benny blurted, “I know!”
Jessie, who was sitting beside him, said, “Benny, hush!”
“But I know why — !”
Violet leaned around her sister. “Shhh!” she commanded.
Grumbling to himself, Benny slumped back in his seat.
After awhile, Melody lifted her bow from the violin. Victor was on his feet before the last notes had died away.
“My dear, that was superb!” he said. “There’s just one passage that still needs work.” He climbed the stage stairs to show Melody which part of the music he wanted her to try again.
Benny looked at the other Aldens. “Can I talk now?”
“What do you want to tell us?” Henry asked.
“I know why someone sent that note to Victor: To get him out of his room!”
“That makes sense,” Jessie said, “but why would anyone want Victor to leave his room?”
“Whoever did it might think the missing score is still there,” Violet suggested.
Benny nodded vigorously. “And they wanted to search for it!”
They decided to tell Victor and Melody what they suspected.
Victor listened intently. Then he nodded and said, “We must go back to the hotel immediately!” and ran up the aisle.
Melody and the Aldens ran after him.
But they were too late. Back at the hotel, they found Victor’s door standing open. Inside, the room was a jumble. Drawers were overturned, their contents strewn about the floor. Sheets and pillows were pulled off the bed. Clothes lay in piles on the closet floor.
Victor picked up his garment bag and unzipped it. His tuxedo was in a heap at the bottom.
Bob Weldon came into the room. Looking at the mess over his glasses, he said, “Not you, too!”
“You mean your room was ransacked?” Melody asked.
“Yes,” Bob answered. “I went down to the dining room to meet you as you asked, Melody, and — ”
“I never asked you to meet me,” Melody interrupted.
Bob looked confused. “But your note — it said you had to see me immediately.”
“I didn’t write you a note,” Melody told him.
Still confused, Bob said, “I don’t have time to argue. There is too much to do.” He started to leave.
“Wait!” Victor called. “This tuxedo needs cleaning before the dress rehearsal. Please see to it.” He handed Bob the garment bag.
Bob narrowed his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said. Under his breath, he added, “Always waits till the last minute,” just loud enough for the Aldens to hear.
“We had better get back to the Civic Center,” Melody suggested. “The orchestra will be arriving.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Victor responded absently, and drifted out of the room.
Melody hung back.
“You go ahead,” Henry told her. “We’ll stay here and straighten up.”
Saying, “I’m sure Victor would appreciate that,” Melody hurried off.
Benny and Soo Lee began putting things back in drawers. Jessie and Violet remade the bed. Henry put the clothes back on hangers.
“Now, we have two false notes,” Jessie said.
“I’ll bet they were both written by the same person,” Benny said.
“But who?” asked Violet.
They thought about that.
Finally, Soo Lee asked, “Could it be Janet Muller?”
They remembered the scene in the hotel earlier that morning. Janet Muller had seemed uneasy. She said she was there collecting autographs. Had she lied?
“Maybe she is the one who wrote the notes,” suggested Jessie.
“What about Melody’s signature?” Violet asked.
“She could have traced it from her autograph book,” Benny answered.
It was possible, they agreed.
“I’ll bet she took the score, too,” Benny said.
That made sense. She had been very interested in the score that first day. And Mozart’s signature would be a valuable addition to her collection.
“But if she has the score, why would she need to search for it?” Henry asked.
“And if she didn’t need to search for the score, why would she write the notes?” Jessie added.
Benny let out a loud breath. “We don’t need more questions,” he said. “We need answers.”
But no one had any. |