“Unfortunately,” Wolfe said, “most of the people who come here do so because of less-than-happy circumstances. I understand that you had wanted to see me?”
Remmers crossed one long leg over the other and fingered a cuff of his six-hundred-dollar custom-made gray pinstripe. “Yes, as I told Mr. Goodwin on the telephone, I’ve learned from the papers that you’re interested in Milan Stevens’s murder. Also, my friend Mr. Bristol, the police commissioner, told me last night that you posted the bond for Gerald Milner.”
“That’s not technically correct,” Wolfe said. “Mr. Milner’s bond was posted by an attorney named Nathaniel Parker.”
Remmers nodded and smiled. “All right; I’ve heard about your fondness for precise speech. In any event, Mr. Bristol led me to believe that you were instrumental in getting Milner released.”
“That’s only conjecture on the commissioner’s part,” Wolfe said. “Assuming it to be true, however, why are you here? Did Mr. Bristol ask you to come and dissuade us from further investigation?”
Remmers’s face showed surprise. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he did. But that’s not why I came. I’m chairman of the Symphony, and as you might imagine, these last two days have been sad and traumatic for everyone connected with the orchestra. They have been particularly so for me, as I was the one most responsible for Mr. Stevens coming to the Symphony.”
Remmers paused and looked at Wolfe, who nodded slightly. “Anyway, despite the police feeling that they’ve found the murderer, I’m not convinced — and I told Dick Bristol as much. Perhaps Mr. Milner is the guilty one, although that would surprise me greatly. I’d feel much more comfortable if you, as well as the police, arrived at that conclusion.” Remmers leaned forward in the chair. “Mr. Wolfe, all this is a long-winded way of saying I want to hire you to investigate the murder, regardless of how the commissioner feels about it. I know your fees are high, but I’m prepared to entertain any reasonable amount. I, not the Symphony, would be paying you.”
“Mr. Remmers, as you would learn if you were to read the edition of the Gazette that will soon be on the streets, I already have a client in this case, Maria Radovich.”
“Yes, Bristol seemed to be aware of that when I talked to him last night. But I’m sure I can pay a higher fee than she; or, if you prefer, perhaps an arrangement can be worked out for us to become co-clients.”
Wolfe shook his head. “No, sir, that wouldn’t work, and you know it. In the first place, your interests and Miss Radovich’s may not totally coincide. Second, in the course of my investigation, I may uncover information detrimental either to you or to the orchestra.”
“Such as?” Remmers said with a slight smile.
“It may be that you are the murderer,” Wolfe said.
Remmers didn’t blink. “If I were, I would hardly be trying to hire the most astute detective in New York, would I?”
“There’s precedent for such a move,” Wolfe answered. “Some years ago, a man engaged Mr. Goodwin and me to find out who killed an employee of the firm of which he was an officer. I found the murderer — it was our client.”
“Yes, now that you mention it, I recall the case. In any event, I’m sure I’m not as clever as that murderer probably was, but I guess I see your point. And the important thing to me is that you are working on the murder. I can promise you full cooperation from the Symphony, at least as far as my authority extends.”
Wolfe nodded. “Now we come to the reason why I had also wanted to see you, sir. I was going to request just such cooperation. For starters, you said you weren’t convinced of Mr. Milner’s guilt. Why?”
Remmers considered the question. “I admit I don’t know Gerald Milner awfully well — he’s only been with the Symphony a couple of years or so. But I’ve talked to him on occasion at receptions and such — I try to make it a point to meet everyone in the orchestra — and it’s difficult for me to picture him being even the least bit scheming, let alone violent. The orchestra is made up of a great many disparate personalities, as you can appreciate, and his is among the mildest — perhaps ‘meekest’ is a better word — of them all.”
“The meek and mild have wreaked a great deal of destruction through the ages,” Wolfe said.
“Certainly, and it may indeed be that Milner is one of those,” Remmers conceded. “But I simply don’t believe it.”
“Do you have someone else to suggest?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it. There were a number of people who found it, well... difficult to get along with Milan Stevens. He was rigid and unbending, as you probably have heard, and a lot of people who had to work with him were put off by his attitude and personality.”
“Including you?”
“I guess I was a special case. I brought him here from London two years ago — two-and-a-half, actually — and he felt a debt to me because of that. Besides, as chairman I don’t get very involved in the day-to-day operations of the orchestra, so Stevens and I didn’t really have occasion to clash.”
“But he collided with others at a high level?”
Remmers smiled ruefully. “Yes, indeed. For instance, he and Charles Meyerhoff, the managing director, were openly hostile to each other. Charlie felt the orchestra’s morale was even worse than it had been under the previous conductor, and that the choice of repertoire made us seem like a glorified Boston Pops.”
Wolfe looked puzzled, and Remmers picked up on it. “That is, under Stevens, the Symphony was playing music that appealed to the greatest numbers, rather than music that was necessarily of the highest caliber, or music that was more adventuresome.”
“Was this true?”
“That’s a subjective judgment,” Remmers answered, “although there’s no question that the Symphony programs the last two seasons have run more heavily toward Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, Brahms, and so forth, the popular composers.”
“Did you agree with Mr. Meyerhoffs position on the orchestra’s morale?” Wolfe asked.
“Not at first,” Remmers said. “Charlie tends to be a griper by nature — never satisfied, never happy. So when he initially came to me complaining about Stevens’s Prussian approach, I shrugged it off as just another example of his pessimistic outlook. Besides, one of the big reasons we brought Milan in was to reestablish discipline in the orchestra. For a number of years, the Symphony had been without a strong music director, and this was reflected in the quality of the playing. At first, I was delighted to hear about the new strictness.”
“But your opinion changed?”
“Yes,” Remmers said. “After the first year, I began to realize that Milan was alienating a number of people with his approach, and during the second year, it seemed as if almost everyone was being alienated by his policies, his brusqueness, his inflexibility.”
“Did you talk to him about this?” Wolfe asked.
“Lord, yes, numerous times. I tried to explain that we needed discipline without intimidation, and he would always insist that this was his way of operating, that it had been successful in London, Vienna, and other places. But each time, our conversations ended with him saying he would try to be more understanding and easier to get along with.
“Unfortunately, his good intentions never seemed to last long, and Meyerhoff would be back griping to me. In the last few months, Charlie started saying he was going to quit, that he couldn’t take the fighting and tension and what he felt was the overpopularization of the repertoire. He said he couldn’t function when we had a music director who wanted to be the general manager as well.”