Griffin walked to the small fireplace, leaned against the mantel, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you know about Delsey. You said someone called Elliot was showing her too much attention at your party last night. Who is that, Professor Salazar?”
Salazar gave a Gallic shrug to rival Gabrielle’s and walked to the grand piano. He paused a moment, pulled a white handkerchief out of his smoking jacket pocket, and lightly rubbed it over a small spot on the piano lid, then moved to stand behind a small, hypermodern ebony desk in the corner. “I am as sorry about Delsey as you are, Agent, believe me. You have my sympathy. As for Elliot, I suppose you will find out soon enough. I was speaking of Dr. Elliot Hayman. He is the director of Stanislaus and also my brother—my twin brother, to be exact. We are fraternal twins and so are not mirrors of each other.”
“I understand the two of you grew up apart.”
“That’s right. I was a teenager before I saw him again, in Madrid, but we are brothers, and thus when he invited me to spend a year at Stanislaus, I accepted. Now, I will tell you that what happened last night is not unusual. This time Elliot focused on Delsey, gave her margaritas he made himself. I must say that Elliot is entirely too familiar with female students here, despite his position. I have told him as much, but he ignores me. As for the Stanislaus board, they pretend not to notice. You would think they’d be more watchful, since Dr. Gordon Holcombe, the former director of Stanislaus, left under, let us say, a very black cloud.”
The pot and the kettle. “What cloud was this, Professor?”
“There were murders here at Stanislaus last year. It is believed Dr. Holcombe murdered his longtime secretary and lover. He fled. No one knows where he is. I doubt anyone is looking for him, since I was told there isn’t enough evidence to send him to jail.”
So this was the horrific trouble Ruth and Dr. Chesney had spoken about. He wanted to know more about it, but not now. Griffin asked, “So Dr. Hayman was asked to become the director of Stanislaus after Dr. Holcombe’s departure?”
“Yes. He plays the piano rather well on the international stage, and that gives him the stature for his position, and a certain cachet, I suppose. But withal he has the soul of an administrator, so he was taken to be a good choice by the board.”
Griffin said, “Your brother invited you here, yet you don’t get along?”
Salazar drew up. “I am not criticizing my brother. I merely state facts.”
“You mean it’s a fact that Dr. Hayman seduces Stanislaus students?”
Salazar spared him a condescending glance. “I know it is difficult for you, but you must try to understand. It is not at all uncommon among musicians—these attempts to connect with those who share our passions, to keep our balance, and, shall I say it, to gain a certain release. It happens everywhere. Music is a haunting mistress that can consume the souls of the truly gifted.”
And the Spanish lizard shrugged yet again. As if that said it all, Griffin thought, and excused any behavior. He said, “I see. So as long as one is careful and exercises a bit of discretion, these connections are overlooked, ignored?”
“It is the civilized thing to do.”
“Then why were you so angry with Dr. Hayman for wanting to forge a connection to Delsey?”
“I suppose because she was hurt last night and because Elliot is not what she needs. She is an innocent, though she is a brilliant musician, more driven than most. It is unfortunate she continues to pursue a commercial path. I am endeavoring to guide her away from that profane choice.” He lightly flicked a spot of lint from his smoking jacket. “Naturally, Delsey, like all gifted musicians, needs guidance.”
“And you wish to be the one to provide this guidance?”
If Salazar suspected irony, he didn’t show it. He merely nodded. “That is correct. We are like spirits, she and I.”
Amazing.
“But tell me, Agent, what happened to her last night? What really happened to her, not the press version you gave out to those credulous girls in the living room.”
Griffin smiled. “What happened was exactly what I said. I have nothing more to add for the moment.” He realized he really wanted to punch out the lizard—not good, he had to get control of himself. He said, “I assume you’re enjoying your year here at Stanislaus?”
“Yes, certainly. So many talented musicians, and the atmosphere here is intimate and congenial and conducive to study and performance. Not like all the distractions that plague Juilliard, for example.”