The Violent Violin Concert by Nataliya Zaboychenko

The sound of a violin echoing through

the opera house was interrupted by a deafening pistol blast. The famous composer and violinist Nick Lauser, who was performing his new composition a second earlier, collapsed right on the stage, like a puppet.

Detective Simon Hopkin, who was sitting in the audience, was the only one who did not succumb to panic. He sat in the very centre of the hall, knowing full well that all the exits had already been blocked by the hustling crowd. If the audience was the murderer's target too, he would have already started firing at the fussing citizens. Besides, it is unlikely that the killer was sitting in the hall. Performer got shot in the head with a clear and well-aimed headshot, it could have been fired from the curtains, or ...

Simon got up from his seat and began to wade through the crowd, walking in the opposite direction from all — towards the stage. It was too dangerous to climb up there and would draw too much attention to him, so he jumped into the orchestra pit, knocking over several music stands. He carefully peered under the upper part of the wings, which hid the technical structures for the equipment. As Simon suspected, they were wide enough to accommodate a person. A killer had enough time to get away, before Simon came to look for him.

This was both pleasing and upsetting. On the one hand, it was now clear that the shot in the head came from above and was aimed directly at the top of the head. On the other hand, it could not have been done by a civilian, a rabid fan, or an offended wife. Simon witnessed a contract killing, which complicated the case. He had just lost the ability to find the culprit by his weapon, the physical ability to climb onto stage structures and alibis. At that moment, the real murderer, who ordered a killer, could be even an elderly lady, drinking margarita in a distant country.

 Well, here goes his Friday night and gifted tickets.

Simon would never willingly purchase a ticket to a violin concert. His ex-client, director of this theatre was very generous, and apart from a payment gave Simon a ticket to this show. He had a free Friday night and decided to give it a try. Now, he was standing in the half-empty concert hall, filled with panicked people. There was no reason for Simon to head home, he was sure that he will receive a call from thethater director in the next couple of days, or even hours. Police should be here in a few minutes, they will take care of a killer. Simon's job is to find a person, who ordered a murder.

***

A clock struck four p.m. and Simon went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. It had been a week since he started working on a case. He has met Nick's best friends, his ex-wife, his producer and current lover. He detaily remembered each visit, but the picture still was not clear. None of them were a saint, but also none of them seemed to order a murder.

 — You couldn't call him a nice guy, but you could always call him honest and talented, — said Nick's producer. — I bet he had some enemies among other artists, but he was smart enough not to cause extra drama.

The producer was the only one who had enough money to afford a killer. Even Nick's ex-wife divorced him with a very little profit, his best friend and new lover were typical representatives of a middle class. Even though the producer had enough money to do such a thing — it was against all of his interests. Nick Lauser was famous and profitable, the producer needed Nick for paying bills and affording quite luxurious life.

— In your opinion, — started Simon, — who ordered a murder? 

Producer looked around, as to check that no one was listening, even though they were alone in Nick's apartment.

 — Melissa, — said producer after a while, — Nick's ex-wife. I am not sure what happened between them, but it wasn't pretty.

After that he left, leaving Simon with new ideas and an empty room to himself.

It was raining, the day, when Melisa came to visit. She had a black umbrella and a blond hair up in a tight bun. If Simon saw her on the street, he would assume that she is a busy business lady, who always knows what she wants. Melisa didn't seem broken or upset. She looked like she haven't had a proper night of good sleep in a while, but, probably, she always looked like this.

— I didn't do it, — were the first words that she said, before Simon even asked a question. — I know that you are looking for someone, who ordered a murder, but it wasn't me. If I wanted to do something bad to Simon, I would do it a while ago, probably after the divorce. 

She looked confident and morally strong. It was obvious that she thought about the meeting with Simon and prepared a speech in advance. But she had a perfect face of make up on, and her shoes were to clean for such a bad weather. Her nails were freshly done and not a single strand of hair got out of the tight bun. Seemed, like this woman was a perfectionist, people like here are used to preparing their looks, speeches and plans in advance. People like her, would never trust a murder to someone else, they wouldn't do it in the theater. THey would prepare a perfect plan and do it quietly.

— In your opinion, — asked Simon, — who ordered a murder?

 Melise gave him a sharp look, but answered quickly. 

— I am in no such a position to blame people. Nick and I have not been friends for a while, I don't know what was going on in his life for a past couple of years. I remember Jose, his best friend, but take my word — he would never do such a thing.

The next day, Jose appeared on Simon's doorstep. He was a half an hour late, but Simon didn't mind. Jose had long hair, almost to his shoulders and stylish glasses. 

Simon would call him a soul of the party. He had chequered button up shirt on and trousers that were a little to big for him. 

— Nick was like a brother to me, an older one. Others might call him snobbish, or selfish, but I knew the real Nick. The real one, who loved violin with all his heart, who still got nervous to go on stage after so many years of performing. He liked crosswords and old movies. He wasn't this plane, rich celebrity who plaid classic music and hosted banquets. He dreamed to go down in history as a musician. His biggest fear was not to write some outstanding melody, he was afraid of being forgotten. So, detective, please, Simon, you have to find out who it was — who ruined his dreams.

Jose was the most talkative one. He got emotional, but could still control his voice.

— That night, Jose was performing his new composition, his new melody, which he was so proud of. I remember the day when he told me, not a while ago, that it was the best melody that he could ever compose. He was so exited about it, and it was so unusual for Nick to be proud of his work. His melodies are always not good enough for his taste. It was the first time that he was exited to play it. Such a tragedy… Such a tragedy that he got to do it only one time.

Jose left when the sun was already down. He left three empty cups of tea and a napkin, which he was ripping apart while talking.

— In your opinion, — asked Simon his last question, when Jose was ready to leave — who ordered a murder?

— Sara, — said Jose, — his lover. She always seemed fake to me.

Sara did not seem fake to Simon. She was a typical people pleaser. She asked if Simone minded if she set in the chair, which was standing opposite to Simon's chair and was clearly for her. When Simon asked what tea she preferred, Sara asked for Simon's favourite one. And if he wasn't good at reading people, he would even like her.

— Nick and I met on this press-party, where he was giving me an interview for a magazine about music. He got my number, and called a week later, asking for a date. I couldn't say no. We have been together for two months, when this… This happened.

It was clearly uncomfortable for Sara to talk about death or murder. Their talk was the shortest one, and Simon didn't even ask his usual question about Sara's opinion on the case. She was too nice to throw someone's name under the bus.

That is how Simon's week went. He had an answer, but none of his clients or suspects would be happy to hear it. Even a victim would hate Simon for saying the truth.

— I will give you the answer, — started Simon, when Nick's producer, ex-wife, lover and best friend got to his apartment, — but due to respect to the victim, you have to promise, to keep the truth a secret.

Room went silent in total misunderstanding.

— I talked to each of you, and none of you seem guilty. You have told me enough about Nick's personality to make this conclusion. To sum up, I want to say, that the killer at the moment of murder was sitting on the construction under the scene's ceiling. It is almost impossible to get there, if you are a stranger. Someone who works at the theatre had to willingly let a killer get there. A shot happened right when Nick finished playing his last composition. A melody, which he was the most proud of. It is too nice for a murderer to wait for his victim to finish, not realistic.

Also, none of you have enough money or reasons to committee such a crime as ordering Nick's death. My verdict is — Nick ordered him self. 

The producer rolled his eyes, Melisa almost laughed at Simon's assumption, only Jose and Sara satiated silent with white faces.

— It is the most logical decision for a man, who dreamed to go down in the history of music. For a man, who just composed his greatest melody. For Nick, who has never seen a sense, a passion in life except for music. It was him, who let the killer in to the theatre. Who had enough money to afford this. Who had enough courage to do such a thing?