Wilmington, NC 10 - Much Ado About Murder

former associates, partly because he had outlived most of them, like his good friends Fred Astaire and Moss Hart. And partly because he had become a recluse.
    One day as Dalton passed the famous songwriter on the street, Mr. Berlin surprised him by stopping his nurse and peering intently at Dalton with those piercing, hooded eyes. “Save many patients today, Doc?” he inquired grimly.
    Dalton was astonished. And pleased. Pleased because he now had a chance to perhaps have a conversation with this great man whom he admired. “I’m not a doctor,” he explained. “I work in a lab at the hospital.”
    “Ah,” Mr. Berlin said, “ that explains the white clinician’s coat.” For Dalton was in the habit of wearing his lab coats home in the evening so he could personally launder them.
    Mr. Berlin again surprised Dalton by telling him he knew who he was and where he lived. “I hear you playing the piano, when your window is open. I live right across the street.”
    Now everyone on Beekman Place knew that the four-square brick Federal style house that overlooked the East River was the home of Mr. Irving Berlin. Dalton’s apartment was located on the third floor of a converted town house at 34 Beekman Place, on the west side of the short street. Mr. Berlin’s free-standing home – a rarity for the City - was on the east side of the street, on a bluff high over the river.
    Abruptly, Mr. Berlin ended their brief conversation by moving on with his nurse. The nurse had remained silent during their discourse, had appeared bored and bemused at the same time.
    After that Dalton made a point of watching for Mr. Berlin, made a point of asking him about his day, engaging him in conversation, and making sure Mr. Berlin remembered his name.
    And then one afternoon, the conversation changed dramatically from small talk between casual neighbors to something of importance. “You know I’ve got trunks full of unpublished songs,” Mr. Berlin said. “And I continue to compose even more. I’ll be composing songs when they lay me out. But here’s something most people don’t know about me: I really can’t read music. Or write it. Oh, I can pick out the melody of a song with one finger on the piano, but I can’t read the harmony. I’m dependent on others to write the songs I compose in my head and at the keyboard. I take it you can write music, doc.”
    “Oh, yes, sir,” Dalton was quick to assure him. “I studied music at the University.”
    “Okay, then, doc, after you get home and out of that white coat, come on over to my house for a drink. And then I’ll play my latest tune for you. I’ll play the notes on the keyboard, and you write them down. What do you say to that, doc?’
    Dalton tried to remain cool. But inside, he felt feverishly hot. An invitation to Irving Berlin’s home! A request to assist him with his latest score! Dalton practically ran home. In ten minutes he was ringing the doorbell across the street at Mr. Berlin’s magnificent home.

13

    “I can’t believe their junk is still here!” I was about to explode. Three upstairs rooms were still filled with tenant’s belongings, most of it junk. Had they moved out and left their throwaways behind? Or were they still living here? On the morning of the walk-through, Dalton had assured us they and their possessions would be gone by the end of the day. But here it was two days later. Thomas’s room had not been cleared out. Neither had Angela’s. We’d seen Taylor move. But what about her key? Had she returned it to Dalton?
    I opened the door to the room that had belonged to Simon LeBeck . “Lord, what a mess. It looks like this room has been ransacked. Could he have really lived in such a mess?”
    “Surely his family have been notified,” Jon said. “In the meantime, what are we going to do with all this? We’ve got to get rid of this stuff so we can begin work.”
    “I don’t see it, Jon. It’s not here!”
    “What? What are you looking for?”
    “The guitar. Simon’s guitar. Remember? It was valuable. And important to him.”
    “How could I forget that scene we witnessed when Taylor was moving out?” Jon asked.
    “So where is it? Someone must have taken it. Any one of them could have stolen it.”
    “He accused Taylor of stealing it. Remember?” Jon asked.
    “But then we saw them dating. A couple.”
    “Would she have taken it after he died?” I wondered. “Let’s not jump to conclusions and think the worst of her. Perhaps