I separated the letter and the board’s response from the archive materials Dominic wanted, sliding them into separate pockets of my messenger bag.
I heard footsteps outside the room. Dominic’s voice carried as he commented on the weather. I had four seconds to compose myself before they opened the door.
“I think I have everything we need,” I said.
We got home a little after one.
Dominic went directly to his study and closed the door. I sorted the archive materials at the kitchen table, organized them by date, and left the stack outside the study with a brief note. I didn’t include the letter. It remained in my messenger bag, which I hung on the hook inside my bedroom door.
I made lunch and delivered plates to both Dominic and Thiago. They remained absorbed in their work.
I ate at the kitchen counter, looking out at the courtyard. The lemon trees needed water again after the week’s relentless heat. I was washing my plate when Celeste called.
“Tell me you’re somewhere comfortable,” she said.
“Kitchen.”
“Good enough.” I heard the creak of a leather chair on her end. “I had lunch yesterday with a woman on the Louisiana Philharmonic’s development committee. We were discussing the fall gala, and then the usual assortment of institutional gossip.” She paused and took a breath. “She mentioned Henri.”
I set my dish towel down.
“He’s been making inquiries. Discreet ones. He contacted the Orpheum and asked about the production calendar—load-in schedules, technical crew rotations, and the credentialing procedures for visiting production staff.”
“When?”
“Three months ago. Before the public announcement of the ‘Saints’ production.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down.
“He didn’t ask about the production specifically,” Celeste continued. “Nothing pointed. He couched it all in casual questions.”
“But it could mean something.”
“Context is everything, mon cher.” I heard her set down a cup. “The committee woman thought nothing of it at the time. She mentioned it as an aside, a footnote to a longer story about Henri’s emeritus role with the Preservation Alliance. I doubt she’ll remember saying it in another week.”
Dominic’s footsteps moved somewhere above me.
“Why would a semi-retired conductor be curious about the Orpheum’s load-in schedule for an event he wasn’t part of?” she asked.
“You probably have a theory.”
“I have seventeen theories,” Celeste said. “I’ll keep them to myself until one becomes a fact.”
“Don’t reject any until then.”
“Tell Dominic. Tell Mr. Reyes. And Luca, keep your eyes on the people who’ve been close for the longest. The threat isn’t coming from someone needing directions to find you.”
She hung up.
Dominic appeared in the kitchen doorway. He’d come down the back stairs.
I reported the details in the same order Celeste gave them to me. He listened without sitting down, one hand resting on the doorframe.
When I finished, he said: “Three months ago.”
“Before the announcement.”
Thiago appeared behind Dominic and stepped around him to enter the kitchen. “Celeste?”
