A Note Before Dying

Book One in the Mara Solomon Series

Adam Cole

Part two

A Note Before Dying, Part Two

(C) 2020 Adam Cole

Published by Nuncici Press, an imprint of Adam Cole Works LLC

Mara Solomon parked her battered coupe in the gritty lot behind the two story brick building which was the City of Decatur Police Station.  She had to pause a few moments to listen to the end of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony which was playing its last bars out on the radio.  Not that it was a particularly good performance, but even badly performed music could be compelling if it was the right piece.  

“Do you know what that is, Cybil?” Mara asked her neighbor. “That’s the Eroica.  Beethoven wrote it for Napoleon, but he got so mad at what Napoleon did later that he scrawled his name off the front page.”

“I like jazz,” Cybil said flatly, not looking up, as if answering a question Mara hadn’t asked.

 Dr. Mara Solomon turned the key and killed the music a few bars shy of its consummation.

“Wait!” exclaimed Cybil.  “That wasn’t the end.”

“No, but…”
“Turn it back on!” Cybil said, her eyes opening wide, her voice rising quickly.  “Turn it back on!!”

Mara restarted the car and the radio came back on just in time, as the last chord sounded.  Mara watched Cybil sit through the silence at the end until the announcer spoke. 

At that point Cybil opened her own door and got out.

Mara pulled her solid round body out of the little red coupe and slammed the door behind her, stepping into the humid afternoon.  It was already warm, too warm for the generous ringlets of her long greyish brown hair to be hanging down.  She reached up with her small hands and fastened it behind her head with a rubber band.  As she did so, a long c-shaped scar came into view along the side of her face.  Her lips, always pouty and round, were closed into a tight knot as she approached the police station with Cybil stamping along behind her.

She didn’t know why she should be nervous.  It wasn’t her car that had been stolen.  She was actually doing a nice thing, wasn’t she?  Missing work to help a friend?

To her surprise she heard harpsichord music coming from down the hall.  A boom-box sat on a desk next to a chili dog and pickle.  All of these belonged to a detective in a small room with an open door. 

“So what time did you notice your car had gone missing?” asked the station officer with whom she was actually supposed to be talking.  Mara wasn’t looking at the officer now.  She was looking at the Detective in the little room down the hall with the boombox who was busily writing something.

The station officer cleared her throat.  “What?” Mara said, startled.  “No, it wasn’t my car.  It was my neighbor’s car.”  The delicate harpsichord music continued to waft,  interfering with her ability to attend to the officer.  What were they doing playing that in here?  Did they always play this kind of music in the station?

“Your neighbor’s car?” the officer repeated.

“Yes.”  Mara understood she had some explaining to do, but she was now fully caught up in the mystery of the music.  She had thought it was Purcell, but as it continued, she began to lose confidence.  Something about the music didn’t sound right.

“Why are you filing a report on behalf of your neighbor?”

There was something strange about the sound of the recording.  It was throwing her musical instincts off balance, making it difficult for her to accurately identify the composition.  It distracted her so much she found it impossible to have a conversation with the impatient police officer.  Ordinarily she’d be able to identify a Purcell piece in her sleep.  Why was she having so much trouble now?

“Ma’am?”

Could it be the insistent questions of this musically insensitive police officer standing in front of her?

“No,” she said, turning back again.  “No, this is my neighbor.”  Mara gestured at Cybil, who had been standing silent beside her.  “She’s…She doesn’t always report things.  I thought she needed some help.”

“I sometimes need help,” repeated Cybil.

“Well, who’s filing?  You or your neighbor?” asked the officer.

“What?”  Again the music held her, but not in a pleasant way.  What was it?  How could harpsichord music sound strange to her?

“Ma’am, who is filing…”

“Excuse me,” Mara interrupted.  “Could you tell me who that is?”  She pointed her stubby finger towards the office with the mustached man who continued to write on some kind of paper next to his boombox and chili-dog.

“What?”  The officer turned.  “That’s Detective Randle.  So you…”

“May I speak to him?”

“Ma’am, do you think I can’t help you with your problem?”  The officer glowered.  Mara hardly noticed.  Her eyes were on the boombox.

“It’s not that.  It’s the music.”

More about A Note Before Dying

Mara Solomon is a musicologist, not a detective.  She has no idea that she’s about to take on a murder case.  

In an unexpected visit to the Decatur Police Station she discovers that her estranged friend, the harpist Reanne Adastra, has been brutally beaten to death, her body left to rot in the South River.  The only clue to the movie seems to be a piece of music, scrawled by Adastra before her death and left behind.  The police have no idea what to make of that.

But Mara thinks she knows.

Adam Cole is the host of TruerMU where he interviews celebrities and up-and-coming musicians and creatives.  His guests have included Shawn Mullins, Liberty Devitto and Rick Beato, among many others.  A jazz and classical pianist, Adam’s numerous fiction and non-fiction titles engage readers with the truth about music.  Visit Adam at www.acole.net

Can’t wait til next Wednesday?  You can get the whole book at  https://booklocker.com/books/7164.html .  (Just don’t post the ending, please!)

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