Page 104 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“The world needs to hear it.Iris deserves to have her piece heard.”
“She does.”
The suggestion Ralph had given him earlier sprouted into full bloom, and he grinned.“Blair?I think I have a great idea.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
THE FINALstrains of Ivo Antognini’s “O Magnum Mysterium” faded to nothingness.
Just as Callum hoped, the choir froze.
Behind him, the audience was completely still.No coughs, no shuffling paper, nothing.
For this one magic, suspended moment, there was nothing but silence.The music was so beautiful, the choir’s performance so effective, that they had done the impossible.
They had made time stop.
Finally, Callum lowered his arms and beamed at the choir, and the audience burst into applause.His gaze, inexorably drawn toward the piano, found Blair, and her sunny smile was all the approval he needed.
Turning toward the audience, he acknowledged the choir and bowed.When the applause died down, he approached the microphone, its stand buried in Christmas greenery and softly glowing white lights, all of which extended over the entire front of the stage.
“Thank you.Thank you all.”The last smatterings of applause faded, and Callum looked out over the audience, his heart hammering.“We have a last-minute addition to the program this evening.A couple of them, actually.”
A barely audible murmur swept the packed, darkened auditorium.
“As many of you may know, earlier this semester Ms.Emerson and I discovered a piece of music in the choral library.Written by hand, unsigned, unfinished ...and it was brilliant.I’ll tell you all more about it after we sing it, but first I’d like for the music to speak for itself.”
Without another word, he turned back toward the choir and retook his spot on the podium.Excitement and emotion shimmered in the students’ eyes.They were in on the surprise, of course, but no one else was.Callum had sworn them all to secrecy, and to their credit, as far as he knew, they’d all kept their promise.
He raised his arms, his hands trembling slightly with the import of the moment, and cued the downbeat of Iris Wallingford’s composition.
He had made absolutely no changes to her score.No editing.No text.The choir just sang the notes on an “ooh.”
Because it was unfinished, the music lasted less than a minute.But the final chord—unresolved, appropriately—hung in the auditorium.Once again, the audience stayed silent, save for a couple of sniffles.
Even after he lowered his arms, the audience remained frozen.He turned to face them, and still everyone stayed still.The lights made it challenging to see facial expressions, but the emotional impact of the piece permeated the atmosphere of the auditorium.The audience was so moved they couldn’t even applaud.
Callum approached the mic, his eyes stinging.“That piece you just heard was written by Iris Wallingford.”
The audience gasped.
“Iris was a senior here at Peterson, set to graduate with the class of 1970, but her life was cut short three months before graduation.Police originally ruled her death a suicide, but as many of you now know, Iris was murdered by her family’s maid.She died before she could complete the piece.And unfortunately, Iris’s murder was not the only crime perpetrated against her.”
A hushed murmur swept through the audience, and Vic Nelson, sitting in the center of the auditorium, shot Callum a look that could’ve melted lead.
Callum had been prepared for this from the moment he’d hatched his idea last month.Vic never missed a Peterson choral concert, and although he couldn’t face legal ramifications for his plagiarism, he could face consequences to his legacy.That was why Detectives Stanton and Valentine were in the audience, directly behind Vic.And why Chief Stephens had also attended, along with several other Peterson officers, allin plain clothes.In the event Vic reacted poorly, Peterson’s finest were more than prepared.
“Iris wrote several other pieces,” Callum said.“And nearly all of them were published ...under the name Victor Nelson.”
The murmur grew louder.
“Vic Nelson shamelessly pirated Iris’s ideas, put them into his own compositions, and passed them off as his.We know him as a wonderful choral composer, but a big reason he has that reputation is because of Iris Wallingford’s music.”
Nearly every head in the auditorium swiveled toward Vic, who bolted from his seat.
“This is slander!”he shouted.“How dare you try to assassinate my character!And after all I’ve done for you!”
Detective Valentine put a firm hand on Vic’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear.Scowling, Vic sat back down.
