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orchestra getting sucked into this mess.”
    â€œI won’t keep you, then. Thank you for your help.”
    The line went dead. Obviously, Pratt had been dismissed by his better. He handed the cell phone back to Ellis.
    â€œSo what did he say?” Ellis asked.
    Pratt normally would have resisted telling the youngster anything. After all, it wasn’t as if they were partners. The older detective preferred working alone. This time, though, he felt thinking out loud might be of benefit, might help him order the facts in his mind, so he told Ellis.
    â€œWhat’s the next step?” the kid asked.
    Pratt was about to answer when his walkie-talkie squawked. “Pratt,” he answered simply.
    It was the sergeant up at the stage entrance. “The chair of the symphony’s board of directors is here. He’s demanding to speak with you.”
    â€œJust what I need,” the detective muttered to himself. “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.” Pratt switched his walkie-talkie off and turned to Ellis. “I want you to dig around in Spadafini’s past. See if you can find any more dirt.”
    â€œGot it,” Ellis said and trotted off.
    â€œNow, let’s see what the big shot wants,” Pratt said to himself with a heavy sigh as he headed for the stairs.
    What he didn’t need now was another person barking at him.

CHAPTER TEN
    P ratt found a casually dressed gray-haired man waiting by the security desk. His foot tapped impatiently.
    â€œOfficer Pratt?”
    â€œI am Detective Lieutenant Pratt,” was the curt reply.
    â€œJames Norris. I heard what the sergeant here said to you, so you know who I am. I demand to know what’s going on.”
    The best way to handle this joker would be in private, Pratt knew. “Perhaps we could talk in your office?”
    Using the elevator, they arrived back upstairs at the opposite end of the corridor from Spadafini’s office. Right in front of the elevator doors was a desk for a secretary. Pratt would have expected Browne to be there. Instead, they found the orchestra manager in his boss’s office.
    The boss was clearly not pleased.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here, Browne?” Norris demanded.
    â€œThe police have thrown me out of my office and I need the use of a computer and the Internet.”
    â€œMy secretary’s desk is perfectly adequate for that.”
    Browne’s face was carefully wiped of any emotion as he got to his feet. “I judged it would be better to work on the official press release in private.”
    â€œYou judged wrongly. Now please leave. The detective is going to bring me up to speed on how his investigation is going.”
    Pratt caught the deep scowl on Browne’s face as he shut the door.
    â€œTell me what you’ve found out about this tragedy,” the president said as he took his seat behind the desk. He motioned the detective into another in front of it.
    Pratt sized the man up for a moment. Clearly, he was used to people jumping on command. Maybe it would be good for Norris to jump for someone else for a change.
    â€œI’d like to ask you a few questions first, if I may,” Pratt began.
    â€œI suppose that’s understandable,” was the answer as Norris leaned back in his chair. “All right. Ask away, Detective.”
    Pratt flipped open his notebook. “Give me your impressions of Spadafini.”
    â€œLet’s see…A musical genius, absolutely brilliant. Hardworking. Difficult at times. The man knew what he wanted and wouldn’t take second best for anything. The orchestra has really flourished under him.”
    â€œEven though they didn’t like him?”
    â€œYes, I suppose that has to be taken into account. As I said, he wouldn’t take anything but the best—especially in performance. Confidentially, the board encouraged him to get rid of the deadwood. We had a lot of musicians who were well past