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‘Must we?’
‘Yes, we must, Mr Linton.’
‘Too bad. Since you’re sure Dalgliesh is not behind this, I was hoping I was going to get to see more of this beautiful city. Maybe with some company?’ Sidling up to him, I put my arm around his waist. He, fervent romantic that he was, responded by holding a dead snake under my nose.
‘Well, then you shall get your wish. I will put the investigation of this incident into your capable hands, and to ensure you’ll have plenty of company, you’ll start by questioning all the opera staff.’
My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.
‘I what?’
‘Oh, and this…’ He dumped the dead snake into my arms. ‘Take it to an expert, will you? Find out where exactly it came from. Preferably without threatening anyone with a firearm.’
‘You…I…how…what…?’
‘Quite adequate questions to begin with, Mr Linton. I’m sure you will be a success as an investigator. Good day.’
And, turning, he strode out of the prima donna’s dressing room. I, for my part, stood there in silence for a moment—then looked down at the snake.
‘You know, I think I understand your choice of lifestyle. Strangling people to death is so much more satisfying that just poisoning them with a little bite.’
*~*~**~*~*
My first interview with a member of the opera staff went something like this:
‘Good morning, ma’am. Could you please state your name, and then describe in your own words as closely as possible what happened a few hour ag—’
‘Mon dieu! C’est scandaleux! J’exige de voir le gérant, ou du moins je l’aurais fait s’il avait été là, mais ce bloc de pierre appelé Ambrose l’a envoyé en vacances parce qu’il n’avait pas besoin de de le payer pendant qu’il était là, n’est ce pas? Cet homme me rend fou! Mais pourquoi suis-je entrain de vous le dire? Vous êtes son fidèle laquais, un homme dont il faut se méfier! Vous n’oseriez jamais remettre en question les précieux ordres de votre maître, n’est-ce pas? Allez au diable! Allez en enfer et prenez votre bloc de glace de patron avec vous! Peut-être qu’il va fondre et faire de ce monde un meilleur endroit! Et puisque nous sommes sur le sujet de l’enfer…’[9]
‘Um…yes. Thanks.’ I held up both hands, just about managing to halt the flood of words from the big-bosomed prima donna. ‘That’s a very great description. Now—could you repeat it in English, please?’
‘Pourquoi diable tu m’as appelé ici? Et pourquoi est-ce que tu continues de parler en anglais? Je ne comprends pas un mot de ce que tu dis. Honnêtement, je m’en fiche, mais j’ai de meilleures choses à faire plutôt que de m’asseoir là à écouter. Est-ce que Ambrose va déduire de mon salaire le temps passé ici?’[10]
I perked up. That last part I might actually have kind of understood!
Ambrose de déduire cette temps de mon salaire…
What could that possibly mean? Take three guesses.
‘Yes.’ I nodded emphatically. ‘He will absolutely deduct this from your salary. This and anything else he can think of.’
The prima donna slapped a delicate hand on the tabletop between us.
‘Merde!’
I beamed. She had understood! We were making huge strides in interlingual communication.
‘Yes, absolutely merde,’ I agreed, patting her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I know the feeling. I’ve had a few merde-moments with Mr Rikkard Ambrose myself.’
‘Cet homme est une tête de nœud!’[11]
‘Yes, absolutely. He definitely is a tait du noid, whatever that may be.’
‘Hm…’ The prima donna gave me a considering look. ‘Pour un homme, vous n’êtes pas trop mal. Surtout pour un anglais.’[12]
‘Thank you—I think. If that was was a compliment. You’re not too bad yourself, as long as you aren’t screaming or singing.’
Reaching into her humongous collection of petticoats, the prima donna removed a small flask and held it up.
