Dead Ringer Page 4

  Even if I’d wanted to talk to him, I didn’t have a chance. My first student arrived only a minute or two after I let myself back into the house, and I was busy teaching for the next few hours. When my last student of the day left my studio, I quickly packed up my things and set off for the bus stop.

  Hans had responded to my last text message shortly after I sent it, and we’d arranged to meet at my place at seven o’clock that evening. He’d offered to pick me up at my studio, but there was no way I would have agreed to that. I didn’t want to risk him and JT meeting, not now that I knew JT disapproved of our relationship.

  I also had another reason for wanting Hans to pick me up at my place rather than at the studio. I wanted a chance to change into something nicer than the jeans and sweater I’d put on that morning. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to spare, since my last lesson ended at six, so I didn’t waste any of it, getting myself home as quickly as possible.

  Once inside my apartment, I went straight to the closet and opened its louvered doors. I stared at my wardrobe, biting my lip with indecision. What should I wear? I didn’t know where we were going for dinner and I didn’t want to be too dressy or too casual. But I had to make up my mind or I’d run out of time and would have to go as I was. I grabbed a blue wrap dress off its hangar and changed into it. It was one of my most comfortable, and blue was my favorite color, as well as one of the colors that looked best on me.

  After changing into the wrap dress, I touched up my makeup and switched my stud earrings for dangly silver ones. I brushed out my long hair and was slipping into a pair of strappy silver heels when Hans buzzed my apartment. He had perfect timing. I told him I’d meet him down in the lobby and then transferred my phone and keys from my quilted shoulder bag to a silver clutch. Smoothing my hair one last time, I took the elevator down three stories to meet my date.

  I smiled when I saw him standing there, feeling certain I’d made the right decision in accepting his dinner invitation. When he noticed me stepping off the elevator, he smiled too, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  “Midori.” He came to meet me, taking my hands and giving me a quick kiss that stirred up the butterflies again. “You look stunning.”

  “You’re looking quite handsome yourself,” I said, giving the collar of his brown leather jacket a little tug. I wanted to run my hands through his blond hair but somehow managed not to.

  He kept hold of one of my hands as he led me out of the apartment building.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, curious. I figured that neither of us would want to run into anyone we knew, and wondered if we would end up going somewhere far across town to lessen the risk of that happening.

  “Actually, I was hoping you would allow me to cook for you.”

  I paused on the sidewalk, suddenly hesitant. “At your place?”

  “That’s what I had in mind.” Hans squeezed my hand. “But if you’d rather we go to a restaurant, we can do that instead. As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m happy.”

  I was still hesitant. Although we’d stolen a few moments alone together here and there, this was our first real date. And even though going to his place would prevent anyone we knew from seeing us, it felt like too much too soon. What exactly was he expecting by inviting me to his home?

  My hesitation must have shown on my face, in my body language. He gave me a reassuring smile and brushed his thumb along my cheek, making my knees weak.

  “It’s just dinner,” he said. “No pressure. Time alone together is all I want. But like I said, we can go to a restaurant if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  Relaxing, I shook my head. “I’d love for you to cook for me.”

  Smile lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and he leaned toward me to brush his lips against mine. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  He opened the passenger door to his silver sedan and I settled into the seat. As Hans drove us away from my apartment and toward his place, I left all of my doubts and concerns behind. This was going to be a great evening, and I was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

  WHEN WE FIRST set off in the car, I had no idea where Hans lived. I guessed it was probably on the west side of the city, but I didn’t even know that for sure. It turned out that he owned half of a duplex in Kitsilano, a trendy neighborhood near the popular Kits Beach. When we stepped inside the front door and Hans flicked on the lights, I could see right away that the interior of his home matched the neighborhood.

  Although not new construction, the duplex had been upgraded, and probably not too long ago. The hardwood floors were beautiful, and the tiled fireplace in the living room created a modern but charming centerpiece. When Hans led me through to the kitchen at the back of the duplex, I could tell that whoever had done the renovations had gone all out in that room.

  There were dark wood cupboards, granite countertops, and tile flooring. The appliances were stainless steel and top-­of-­the-­line. I wasn’t an expert, but I guessed that the six-­burner gas stove was a home chef’s dream.

  “Do you do a lot of cooking?” I asked, eyeing the fancy stove.

  Hans grinned. “Whenever I get the chance.” He nodded at the small round table in an alcove with a bay window. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I pulled out a chair and settled into it, gazing out at the small backyard for a few seconds before returning my attention to the kitchen. Hans opened a built-­in wine cooler and pulled out a bottle.

  “Wine?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Sauvignon blanc?”

  “Sure.”

  He took two wineglasses down from a cupboard, filled them both, and passed one to me. “Are you allergic to shellfish?” he asked.

  “No, I love shellfish.”

  “So shrimp scampi is okay?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said.

  Hans picked up a small remote control and hit a button. Music began playing softly, and I recognized the piece right away as Edward Elgar’s Salut d’Amour. There were built-­in speakers in the kitchen. I wasn’t surprised. Hans was as much of a classical music lover as I was—­perhaps even more so—­and he likely didn’t spend a whole lot of time without music accompanying his life.

  I sipped at my wine and watched him as he worked, removing ingredients from his refrigerator and setting a pot of water on the stove to boil.

  “So,” he said as he poured some olive oil into a pan, “tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s not a whole lot to tell, really.”

  “I find that very hard to believe.”

  I set my wineglass on the table. “Well, you already know that I’m a violinist.”

  “How about outside of music?”

  I shrugged. “I’m an only child, born and raised in Vancouver.”

  “Have you traveled much?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. I’ve been to England once, Japan three times. That’s where my mother’s side of the family is from. I’ve been to a few places in the U.S., but that’s about it. How about you? You must be well-­traveled.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked as he added pasta to the pot of water.

  “Well, you’re from Denmark, and I think I recall hearing that you worked in a ­couple of other countries before coming to Canada.” I tried to remember what I’d heard about Hans when he first took on the job as maestro of the Point Grey Philharmonic. “Weren’t you working in Sweden before you came here?”

  Although I could only see his profile, I thought I caught a flash of hesitation or wariness on his face. But it was gone so quickly, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it.

  “That’s right,” he said, sautéing some garlic. “Uppsala. And I guess I am fairly well-­traveled. I worked in Australia for seven years. Melbourne, to be exact. I also spent five years in Germany and a ­couple in California. I’ve done a
fair bit of traveling in Asia, although that’s mostly been in my spare time rather than for work.”

  “You must speak a lot of languages,” I said.

  “I can get by in several, but I’m best at Danish, Swedish, German, and English.”

  I shook my head. “The more I learn about you, the more amazed I am.”

  He grinned as he checked the pasta. “And the more time I spend with you, the more entranced I become.”

  My cheeks warmed and I took a sip of my wine to cover my sudden embarrassment. Fortunately, Hans wasn’t looking at me at that moment, and I was able to recover without him noticing. We chatted some more about his time in Australia as he finished preparing our meal, and soon he was refilling our wineglasses and setting out plates of shrimp scampi on the table.

  The meal smelled delicious, and Hans lit two candles on the table before sitting down, adding some romance to the evening as the sun set and the natural light from the bay window dimmed.

  As I took my first bite of the shrimp scampi, I almost sighed with pleasure. “This tastes amazing,” I told him. “You’re a man of many talents.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  His words, together with the glint in his eyes, made me blush again. This time he noticed. He smiled, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way I found charming and attractive.

  “What are we going to do now without Jeremy?” I asked. “Do you have another ringer lined up?”

  Hans swallowed a bite of food and nodded. “I have someone in mind. I’m just waiting to hear back from her. If all goes well, she’ll be at tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

  “I still can’t believe he’s dead,” I said, twirling some pasta around my fork. “Murdered. Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know. But it wouldn’t surprise me if Jeremy had made several enemies in his lifetime. You know what he was like.”

  I nodded. I did know what he was like. But still, disliking someone wasn’t enough reason to kill them. At least, not in my book. But maybe someone out there was missing a few pages from their mental symphony. Or maybe somebody, for whatever reason, had hated Jeremy with a passion. Who knew? Not me. I hoped the police would figure it out, though.

  “In fact,” Hans went on, after taking a drink of his wine, “he didn’t even seem to get along with Reverend McAllister.”

  “Reverend McAllister? What do you mean?”

  “When I arrived for the rehearsal yesterday, Jeremy was already there. I caught a glimpse of him having a hushed but very heated discussion with the reverend.”

  I took a second to digest that information. “Did you tell this to the police?”

  “Of course.”

  “You didn’t hear what they were arguing about?”

  Hans shook his head. “I couldn’t make out any words. When they caught sight of me, they broke off their argument rather hastily and went their separate ways.”

  How curious. I thought things over as I ate more of my dinner, and soon realized that something was nagging at me. “How did Jeremy even know Reverend McAllister?” I asked. “That was our first rehearsal at the church.”

  “Ah, but Jeremy helped out with the youth orchestra that rehearses there on a regular basis. He probably ran into the reverend from time to time.”

  Right. Jeremy had mentioned his work with the youth orchestra. I’d simply forgotten about it until Hans mentioned it. I almost forgot about it again when Hans reached across the table and covered my hand with his.

  “Let’s not talk about Jeremy or murder anymore tonight. I’m sure there are far more pleasant things we could do.”

  My heart did something crazy in my chest and my head felt light and pleasantly woozy. I didn’t think it had anything to do with the wine. We finished up our meal, talking mostly about music and my work as a violin teacher.

  After Hans had rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, he held up what remained of the bottle of wine. “Another drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.” I’d already had two glasses and wanted to keep my mind clear.

  “How about we go into the living room?” Hans suggested. “I’ll turn on the fireplace.”

  He took my hand and I let him lead me down the hallway to the front of the house. He switched on the gas fireplace and turned back to me, taking both of my hands in his.

  “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I said. “It’s been nice.”

  “I think we should do this again sometime.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  He leaned in to kiss me. His arms went around me and my right hand slid up his neck to the back of his head, my fingers raking through his thick blond hair. I was so caught up in our kiss, so focused only on the two of us, that I nearly jumped higher than a kangaroo when someone pounded on the front door.

  Hans and I broke apart.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, moving away from me with reluctance.

  I followed him to the edge of the living room but hung back out of sight as he opened the door, just in case it was someone who knew both of us.

  It turned out that it was someone who knew both of us, but not in the way that had crossed my mind.

  “Evening, Mr. Clausen,” Detective Bachman greeted Hans tersely.

  “Detectives,” Hans returned. “What brings you here at this hour?”

  I stepped into sight. Detective Salnikova was on the doorstep along with Bachman and they both looked past Hans to me when I appeared.

  Bachman nodded in my direction. “Ms. Bishop.”

  If he was surprised to find me there, he didn’t show it. Neither did Salnikova.

  “We’d like to ask you some more questions about the circumstances surrounding Mr. Ralston’s death,” Bachman said, turning his attention back to Hans.

  “I’ve already told you everything I know.” Hans sounded puzzled and slightly annoyed.

  “We’d still like to ask you some questions.” Detective Bachman wasn’t about to back down.

  Hans sighed but stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

  The detectives didn’t budge. “We’d like you to come to the station with us.”

  I gripped the edge of the living room doorway. “Why?” I asked. “Why can’t you talk to him here?” There was an edge of panic to my voice.

  Detective Bachman ignored me. “Mr. Clausen?”

  A second or two ticked by before Hans responded. “I’ll get my coat.”

  As he opened the hall closet, I went to his side, putting a hand on his arm. “Hans, why are they doing this?”

  “I don’t know.” He took his leather jacket off its hanger and paused, meeting my eyes. “Everything will be fine, Midori. I’m sorry this has spoiled our evening. Should I call you a cab?”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it.” I removed my hand from his arm and grabbed my clutch from the hall table while he shrugged into his jacket.

  After Hans switched off the gas fireplace, we stepped out onto the front porch. I waited while he locked the front door. The detectives stood on the sidewalk, the yellow light from a nearby streetlight giving their faces a pasty, sickly appearance. My stomach clenched at the thought of them spiriting Hans away for what didn’t seem like a friendly visit.

  Slipping his keys into his pocket, Hans kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  He descended the stairs and joined the detectives on the sidewalk, leaving me there on the porch. As the detectives’ car set off down the street, all I could do was watch and wonder if Hans really would be fine. The police had taken him in for questioning, and despite what he’d told me, I had a feeling that he knew why.

  Chapter 5

  I DIDN’T SLEEP much that night. I kept tossing and turning, unable to stop
worrying about Hans and thinking about Jeremy’s murder. What interest could the police possibly have in Hans? He’d explained about the argument I’d overheard, so what else could the police want to know? I regretted ever telling the police about the argument. Then again, I couldn’t have held information like that back. I never really thought it would get Hans in trouble, because I was so convinced of his innocence. But were the police?

  Maybe Hans wasn’t a suspect. Maybe the police simply thought he had some valuable information that hadn’t even occurred to him earlier. I didn’t quite buy that explanation, though. The detectives’ demeanor had suggested that Hans was indeed a suspect, which was ridiculous.

  Or was it?

  I pushed that flicker of doubt aside, but it continued to tickle at my mind, working its way back into my thoughts slowly but surely. How much did I really know about Hans? He’d only started conducting the Point Grey Philharmonic three months ago, and last night was the first time we’d spent any real time alone together. What if he did have a reason to kill Jeremy?

  Turning over and tugging at my blankets, I told myself that I was crazy to doubt Hans even for a second. He wasn’t a murderer. He couldn’t be.

  Maybe everything would make more sense in the morning. I’d get in touch with Hans and he’d tell me that everything was fine, that the police had no more interest in him. At least, I hoped that was the way it would play out.

  Holding onto that hope, I finally managed to drift off into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. But even what sleep I did manage to get was troubled by restless, disturbing dreams, filled with shadowy dangers and a sense of being hunted. When I woke just after six-­thirty, I didn’t bother trying to get back to sleep. Throwing aside my blankets, I headed straight for the shower, hoping that the soothing, hot water would help to clear and calm my mind.

  It didn’t.