'That'sthe music school, right? The conservatory over on Locust?' 'I think so.'

    Jessicalooked at the back of the CD. At the bottom was a brief list of credits.

    'Kevin.'

    Byrnelooked over. Jessica handed him the CD, pointed to the last line of the linernotes.

    RECORDINGENGINEER: JOSEPH P. NOVAK.

Chapter 59

    Oncea stately mansion, the Prentiss Institute of Music was an impressiveearly-1900s Georgian sandstone building, across from Rittenhouse Square onLocust Street. In the world of classical music it was considered by many to bePhiladelphia's version of the Juilliard. Many members of the PhiladelphiaOrchestra had studied at Prentiss. While most of the courses of study were atthe college level, they also maintained a prep school. A number of principalplayers of major orchestras around the world had gotten their training atPrentiss.

    Becauseof the prestige of the school, and the late hour, Byrne had put in a call tothe DAs office. The office had then placed a call to the school and gottenJessica and Byrne an appointment to speak with someone.

    Thedean of the Prentiss Institute of Music was Frederic Duchesne. In his forties,Duchesne was tall and sharp-featured, had thinning blond hair, hazel eyes, andan air of rumpled elegance. He met them at the front door of the institute,locking it behind them, and escorted them to his office, a large white-paneledroom off the reception area. The room was cluttered with sheet music on stands,stacks of CDs, as well as a variety of musical instruments in theirvelvet-lined cases.

    Onthe wall was a large framed copy of the school's charter. Duchesne offeredcoffee, which Jessica and Byrne declined. They sat.

    'Weappreciate you taking the time to talk to us,' Byrne said. 'I hope we're notkeeping you too late.'

    'Notat all. I sometimes don't leave here until midnight. Always something to do.'He absently straightened some papers on his desk, then stopped, perhapsrealizing it was hopeless. He turned back. 'It's not often we get a visit fromthe police.'

    'Wejust have a few questions,' Byrne said.

    'Iassume this has something to do with Joseph Novak.'

    'Itdoes,' Byrne said.

    Duchesnenodded. 'I saw it on the news.'

    'Whatcan you tell us about Novak?'

    'Well,as I understand it, Mr. Novak was loosely associated with Prentiss for tenyears or so.'

    'Hewas an employee?'

    'No,no. He freelanced as an engineer for various recordings. The institute hires anumber of different technicians based on the project.'

    Byrneheld up the CD he had gotten from Christa-Marie. 'He worked on this project?'

    Duchesneput on his glasses. When he saw the CD he smiled fondly. 'That was recordedmore than twenty years ago. Novak didn't record the original. He worked on theremastering.'

    'Wereyou acquainted with Joseph Novak?'

    'Wemet once or twice. I never worked with him personally, no.' Duchesne shook hishead. 'Terrible tragedy what happened.'

    'Whenwas the last time you saw him?'

    Duchesnethought for a moment. 'It must be two years now.'

    'You'vehad no contact since?'

    'None.'

    'Doyou know how many recordings he worked on here?'

    'Notoff hand,' Duchesne said. 'I can get that information for you.'

    Byrneglanced at his notes. 'I have just a few more questions. I'm afraid some ofthem are probably going to seem pretty basic.'

    Duchesneheld up a hand. 'Please. This is a place of learning.'

    'Canyou tell us a little bit about the institute?'

    'You wantthe tourist version or the potential-donor version?'

    'Tourist,'Byrne said. 'For now.'

    Duchesnesmiled, nodded. 'The institute was founded in 1924 by a woman named EugeniePrentiss Holzman, and is known worldwide as one of the leading conservatories.It's difficult to get into, but the tuition is free. A number of the currentmembers of the Philadelphia Orchestra are faculty here, as well.'

    'Howmany students do you have?'

    'Rightnow, around one hundred sixty.'

    'Andthis is all free?'

    'Well,not the private lessons.'

    'Expensive?'

    'Very,'Duchesne said. 'The hourly fee can be quite high.'

    Duchesnecontinued, relating how Prentiss recruited its students, what the generalcurriculum was. He also name-dropped some of the more famous alumni. It was animpressive list. When he finished he reached into his desk, produced a pair oflarge full-color booklets, handed one to Byrne, one to Jessica. The publicationwas called Grace Notes.

    'Prentisspublishes this quarterly,' Duchesne said. 'Inside you'll find all thebackground you need.'

    Jessicaand Byrne thumbed through the booklets. Byrne held up his copy. 'Thanks.'

    Duchesnenodded.

    'I dohave one last question, if I may,' Byrne added.

    'Ofcourse.'

    'Whenit comes to orchestral music - symphonies - is there always a book?'

    'Abook?'

    'Likein musical theater. Someone writes the book, someone writes the music, someoneelse writes the lyrics.'

    'I thinkI may know what you're asking. You want to know if symphonies have a storybehind them. A narrative.'

    'Yes.'

    'It'sa difficult question,' Duchesne said. 'And one that's been a topic fordiscussion and debate for a long time. I believe what you're talking about,insofar as instrumental music is concerned, is called program music.'

    'Programmusic has a story?'

    'Yesand no. In its purest form, program music can be a mere suggestion of anarrative.'

    'So apiece of music that follows a narrative approach might not be particularlycoherent?'

    Duchesnesmiled. 'Tell me, detective. Where did you study music?'

    'Alittle honky-tonk at the crossroads.'

    'Withthe esteemed Mr. Johnson.'

    'Yeah,well,' Byrne said. 'I made a different deal with the devil.'

    Duchesnetook a moment, thinking. 'To answer your astute question, yes. For the mostpart. There are a few exceptions, one being Vivaldi's Four Seasons'

    Jessicatried to listen closely but the only sound she could hear was the conversationflying over her head. She knew that Byrne took cryptic but detailed notes. Shehoped he was getting all this. She was completely lost when it came toclassical music. Whenever someone mentioned The Barber of Seville shethought of Bugs Bunny.

    'Arethere any symphonic poems, program music, that involve the use of animalimagery?'

    'Mygoodness. Many.'

    'Specificallya lion, a rooster, a swan, or a fish?'

    'Perhapsthe most famous of all. Carnival of the Animals,' Duchesne said withouta moment's hesitation. 'It is a musical suite of fourteen movements. Muchbeloved.'

    'Themovements are all about animals?'

    'Notall,' Duchesne said.

    'Whowas the composer?' Byrne asked.

    'Carnivalof the Animals was written by a great proponent of the tone poem. A FrenchRomantic composer named Camille Saint-Saens.'

    'Doyou have information on this that you might let us borrow?' Byrne asked.

    'Ofcourse,' Duchesne said. 'It will take me a little while to collate all of it.Do you want to wait?'

    'Canyou fax it to us as soon as you have it all together?'

    'Sure,'Duchesne said. 'I'll get right on it.'

    Jessicaand Byrne rose. 'We really appreciate this,' Byrne said, handing the man abusiness card.

    'Notat all,' Duchesne replied. He walked them to the door of his office, throughthe reception area, to the front doors.

    'Wereyou here when Christa-Marie Schönburg studied here?' Byrne asked.