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of them, and I nodded to Mercer to open the door. The three thousand
lightbulbs in the theater started to dim and the crystal chandeliers circling
the parterre boxes began to lift up out of sight.
Dobbis thanked us and said he'd see us later. He stopped playing with the
small object in his fingers and placed it on the ledge in front of him.
The booth was almost dark but the light that glowed from the monitors settled
on the thing that Chet Dobbis had carried in his hand. It was a two-inch-long
black nail the kind the stagehands called a bent twenty.
9
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"Dewar's on the rocks for the blonde. No fruit. You have Grey Goose?"
The bartender set up the glasses and took Mike's drink orders. We three were
alone in the lobby of the Met, at the foot of the grand staircase, while all
the balletomanes were in their seats for the performance.
The added police presence at entrances and doorways leading behind the stage
hadn't seemed off-putting to most spectators, who would not know about Natalya
Galinova's death until they heard the late news or read the morning paper.
We sipped our drinks and talked through the forty-minute first act ofCoppelia
, Mercer and I both trying unsuccessfully to draw out Mike. It was clear to me
that he wasn't ready to expose the emotional upheaval he had suffered after
Val's death, and he didn't even bother to feign interest in Mercer's stories
about Vickee and their baby boy.
When the doors from the auditorium swung open and the crowd emptied the rows
for the intermission, Mike stepped around the corner and fought his way to the
director's booth. As I followed behind him, I could see that his instinct had
been right. Chet Dobbis was walking briskly toward the front of the house,
against the flow of the people, as though he was trying to distance himself
from us.
Mike called out to him, but Dobbis didn't turn his head. I was zigzagging
through the lines of annoyed patrons, as I slowed their efforts to get their
plastic glasses of champagne or stand on the endless lines for the restrooms.
Mercer was more direct. He scooted across a row of seats that was empty but
for one elderly couple, and then he vaulted over the chairs in front, beating
Dobbis to the exit that was closest to the backstage door.
"You know how this one ends or you just trying to catch an early train?" Mike
asked.
The angled nail was again twisting between the director's thumb and
forefinger. "I've got to talk to the stage manager, detective. Our lead dancer
has missed half of his cues and his performance is entirely off."
"Why don't you let the ballet mistress take care of that?" Mike said, backing
out the door with his hand on Dobbis's elbow. "This will only cost you a few
minutes."
The usher saw Dobbis coming toward him and opened the door to the backstage
area that said no entrance. Once inside, the three of us stopped, surrounding
the director before he could go any farther.
"Am I making you nervous, buddy?" Mike asked.
"Not at all. I'm sure you don't like being interrupted when you're doing
something important at a crime scene, and I'm asking the same respect for the
business at hand tonight. I'm in the middle of a major production."
"What a coincidence. Thisis the middle of my crime scene, Mr. Dobbis. You
wanna watch out for that nail you got? I'd hate to lose you to a bad case of
tetanus before we even get to talk."
Dobbis opened his palm and looked down, as though he'd surprised even himself
by the discovery that he was holding something. "This? Not nerves at all,
detective. Just for good luck," he said, pocketing the black nail.
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"How so?"
"Something I picked up in the days Pavarotti sang here. Luciano Pavarotti?"
"Yeah. The fat man."
"Hardly a distinction among tenors, detective. Pavarotti was wildly
superstitious, did you know that, Ms. Cooper?"
"Why does everybody askher the culture questions? She didn't know it trust me
on that and neither did Mercer. What about it?"
"It got so Luciano wouldn't go onstage until he picked up a bent twenty. He
found one, just by chance, the very first time he didTosca here.A tremendous
ovation and sixtyToscas later it remained his personal good luck charm. They
actually had to have a pocket sewn into every one of his costumes to conceal a
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