Murder at the Frankfurt Opera: A Murder She Sang Novel

By Pamela Cramer

SINGING OPERA, SPEAKING A FOREIGN LANGUAGE AND SOLVING MURDERS
Its all in a days work for Myra Barnett, relocated American to the Frankfurt Opera where she has started her first contract singing in the chorus.
MURDER FOUL OR?
A colleague is mysteriously killed in an onstage accident which she is determined to prove was murder. Can she convince the stiff German Inspektor that this was the case? And how can she find evidence to convince him?
THE PLOT DEVELOPS
Going through her colleagues belongings, she finds there were many secrets in his past that she was unaware of especially an earlier romance in another land. Intriguing.
DAMN THAT WOMAN
I am going to have to do something to stop that meddling woman who is trying to prove he was really murdered. She may have to have an accident too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491856437

Book preview

Murder at the

Frankfurt Opera

A Murder She Sang Novel

Pamela Cramer

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© 2014 Pamela Cramer. All rights reserved.

Cover Design and Sketches Copyright © 2014 by Angela Cramer

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction and all the characters and actions in the book are entirely fictional and any similarity to any company or living persons is coincidental. To be authentic, I have referred to real places such as the Frankfurt Opera House, Palmengarten and Die Kuh die Lacht and companies like Porsche, Ferragamo, Canon, Villeroy and Boch, iPhone, iPad, Armani, LaCrosse, Versace, Prada, and Gucci. Hopefully, they will appreciate the free advertising.

Published by AuthorHouse 1/23/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-5644-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-5643-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014901245

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 Life On The Job A Month Earlier

Chapter 2 Dressing Room Divas

Chapter 3 After Performance Munchies

Chapter 4 Home Sweet Home

Chapter 5 Aftershocks

Chapter 6 Rehearsal Blues

Chapter 7 Pretty Flower

Chapter 8 Merry Madness

Chapter 9 Sorry Sickness

Chapter 10 Tongue Twisters

Chapter 11 Another Rehearsal

Chapter 12 Dancing Dynamos

Chapter 13 Oratorio Descent

Chapter 14 Foiled Again

Chapter 15 Rehearsal Fiasco

Chapter 16 Hospital Distress

Chapter 17 Sick At Heart

Chapter 18 In Memoriam

Chapter 19 Third Time Works

Chapter 20 Life Goes On

Chapter 21 German Gendarmes

Chapter 22 Pensive Psalms

Chapter 23 Landlord Blues

Chapter 24 Not My Favorite

Chapter 25 Apartment Headaches

Chapter 26 The Flying Bat

Chapter 27 Healthy Advice

Chapter 28 Packing Up A Life

Chapter 29 Production Parody

Chapter 30 Saucy Sirens

Chapter 31 Mysterious Musings

Chapter 32 Reaching Out

Chapter 33 Butter Bites

Chapter 34 Nosy Buttinsky

Chapter 35 Premiere Jitters

Chapter 36 Story Unfolds

Chapter 37 Army Brats

Chapter 38 The Plot Thickens

Chapter 39 Magic List

Chapter 40 What the Hell?

Chapter 41 Journal Journey

Chapter 42 Apartment Woes

Chapter 43 Rude Awakening

Chapter 44 More Sleuthing

Chapter 45 At It Again

Chapter 46 Lightning Strikes

Chapter 47 Using the Old Noggin

Chapter 48 Smuggling In

Chapter 49 Discovery

Chapter 50 Magic Moxie

Epilogue

This book is dedicated to my husband, John, who encouraged and prodded me to finally write it and without whom it would never have happened. Also to our beautiful daughters,

Angela and Julia.

Acknowledgements Author’s CODA

Thank you to Max Regan, my mentor, teacher and friend who guided me through these uncharted waters. Big hugs to my draft readers, Vicky Hemme, Helen Nuesse, Geraldine Rose, Carolyn Thieme, my mother, Marie Heinz, my daughter, Julia Cramer and my husband, John. Thanks to my artist daughter, Angela, for her wonderful cover and sketches. Thanks to my husband, John, Holger Uhl and Klaus Nuesse for their help with the German text. And special thanks to Geraldine Rose, Sandra Toner-Uhl and my daughter, Julia, for allowing me to use their pictures. I appreciate that Kathleen and David Gillmore give me permission to use their photo of Die Alte Oper. Thanks to Intendant Bernd Loebe for allowing me to use his quote.

frankfurtoperahouse.jpg

Opern-und Schauspielhaus Frankfurt is the official name of the municipal theaters complex of Frankfurt am Main, Germany. The complex presents operas and plays. The theater building is behind the opera house shown. The Oper Frankfurt (Frankfurt Opera) is an important European opera house and company. It is located in the Altstadt, the political center of the city. In 1995, 1996, and 2003 it received the title ‘Opera house of the year.’ It seats 2,400.

alteoper4.jpg

Alte Oper is a concert hall and former opera house in Frankfurt, Germany. It is located one mile from the new opera house. It was inaugurated in 1880, bombed during World War II in 1944, and slowly rebuilt in the 1970s, reopening only in 1981. The Alte Oper serves as home to the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra.

Singing is incorporeal. You cannot touch it, yet it can hold us with irresistible power. It is just vibrations in the air, but it also puts our souls in motion – and sometimes we even feel it physically. This phenomenon can be experienced night after night at the opera. It is a ‘mingling of soul and body’: This could be the motto of our opera house.

Frankfurt Opera, Season 2012/2013

Intendant Bernd Loebe

Gesang ist immateriell. Man kann ihn nicht anfassen, und er ergreift uns doch mit unwiderstehlicher Macht. Es sind nur Schwingungen der Luft, aber sie versetzen auch unsere Seele in Schwingung – und manchmal spüren wir sie sogar körperlich. Dieses Phänomen lässt sich Abend für Abend in der Oper erleben. Es ist ein ‘Spiel von Seele und Körper’: Das könnte das Motto unseres Opernhauses sein.

Oper Frankfurt, Saison 2012/2013

Intendant Bernd Loebe

Prologue

Gasping, I run out onto the stage and try to find someplace to hide. I see the soldier’s guardhouse that has a door facing the audience and a curtain in the back to hide the backstage light when the door is open. I open the door and run inside, closing the door behind me.

What the hell am I doing running away from a killer who is frantically searching for me in the wings? Is this when my life is supposed to pass before my eyes? I wonder to myself. I am too young to have much of a life to view, so I’d better think of a way out of this now!

I sit on the small stool in the tiny shed, leaning over, elbows on my knees, cradling my chin in my hands and rocking back and forth. I can hear someone shoving curtains aside and moving chairs backstage, searching for me. I try to breathe shallowly so I don’t give myself away.

Scheisse! How did I get in this predicament? How could this have happened? He must have me mixed up with someone else. No, I know that is not true. How could I have been so wrong about the culprit? I wasted weeks of time. What if he goes after my best friend? Or hurts someone else?

Scaring me out of my thoughts and making me jump to my feet, the orchestra starts playing the music for the second act of the opera Magic Flute and I realize I can no longer hide in the little soldier’s guardhouse on stage. The soloist will be coming through any minute and give away my hiding spot. What do I do, what do I do? Think! Think!

Looking around anxiously, I desperately wish I had something to defend myself with, but unfortunately, there is no weapon as part of my stage costume, which consists of a shiny silver and blue pants suit and a white men’s shirt with a short shoulder cape. The George Washington wig is too distinctive and he knows I am in this costume. I have on four inch high heeled silver ankle boots that are to die for, but I didn’t mean that be factual. Maybe I can take one off and hit him on the head with it. Quit going off on tangents, girl, think!

I decide flight is safer than fight, so grab the cloak and priest’s hat that are hanging on the wall of the guardhouse, ready to be used in another scene. I creep through the door on the front of the guard’s shack, facing the audience from the stage.

The scene opens with the March of the Priests. They enter from left and right onto the stage, smiling and greeting each other as they line up diagonally in front of the shrine to Osiris and Isis with its two huge golden statues of the gods at the back of the stage. There are two wooden guardhouses, one on each side of the shrine, for the two tenors playing the role of Speakers to come out of. They will be singing in this scene and flanking Sarastro during his aria.

If I keep my head down, I can just get in line with the rest of the men’s chorus and he will be none the wiser. Here goes. I put on the cloak to hide my costume, pull the hat down over my wig, and step out onto the stage. I stop and shake hands, following the actions of the priests. Please don’t give me away! I plead with my eyes, shaking my head a tiny bit as Paul looks at me with eyebrows raised when I shake his hand.

They are singing the Hail to Isis chorus and I don’t have the faintest idea of the words, so I just move my mouth and keep my face turned upstage from the audience. While Sarastro is singing, I try to peek at the wings, but I cannot see into the shadows because of the bright stage lights. This damn hat is too big for my head, even over the wig, and I have to hold it with one hand to keep it from slipping down over my eyes. I sigh. I can tell he is standing to the side clutching the curtain with his left hand and holding something that looks menacing in his right hand. I quickly duck under my hat and look at Sarastro. He is giving me a wide eyed glare because I am messing up his most important scene. What a dick! He is a pompous ass even when he’s not on stage.

Now what? The aria is almost finished and then the men will file out to go offstage. He’ll be able to grab me when I pass by the curtain. I decide to turn and march in the opposite direction. The audience can mumble and titter at how ridiculous I look, and the director will be furious, but who cares? This is my life at stake.

I run towards the elevators but he grabs my cloak. I quickly unfasten it, leaving him clutching an empty cape. I run out into the corridor.

Oh, there is nowhere to hide here! What do I do? How can there not be someone out here? Oh, they are all waiting to go on stage for their next scene.

Quickly, I turn, and stumbling, run for the tunnel. Silently, I am screaming inside.

Someone help me! Why is there never a policeman around when you need one? Oh, God help me, he is right behind me!

Chapter 1

Life On The Job A Month Earlier

Bravo! Bravi! Bravissimo! shouts the crowd in the Frankfurt opera house after the soprano playing Elisabeth sings O ciel on a high B. The note is full and high and impossible, it hangs in the air for what seems a full minute. The note marks the end of the last act of Don Carlo. Elisabeth faints and falls to the floor. As usual, the audience starts applauding before the orchestra is finished. They always think the opera is over when the singer is done singing, not when the last note is played. Oh, well, I think, we’re used to that.

Bitte, alle auf die Bühne! we hear backstage from the stage manager, urging us to take our places for final bows.

As the soloists move up to the front, we in the chorus file in at the back of the stage from the side wings. We know the audience is mainly clapping for the soloists, who motion to the General Music Director (GMD), Herr Mauer, to take a bow with the orchestra. He looks very tall and distinguished in his black tuxedo, but has a wild grey mane of hair that he smooths back with both hands. We call him Einstein, but never to his face. He bows stiffly, like a robot. I swear he has a stick up his butt!

We don’t care that the chorus does not get much recognition. We know they still need all one-hundred of us for this production. How great is it to get to perform in a Frankfurt opera house and be paid to sing this gorgeous Verdi music? His choruses are always lush with melodies and harmonies that are challenging to sing and require the full voice. In fact, the chorus often has blended ensembles with the soloists.

I love this opera but we’ve been up here for three and a half hours and my feet are killing me, I say to my friend Jenny, who is standing next to me. The stage lights are beating down on us and I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot; it feels like we are standing in a broiler.

Jenny is an American. She is about the same height as me at 5'8", and has a knockout figure. The guys in the theater, or even on the street, are always hitting on her. She has long, straight black hair that reaches to the bottom of her rear end, so she always has to pull it to the side when she sits down. She has a false smile on her face as we bow repeatedly. She is my best friend and has helped me a lot with the million things I had to do to get settled in Germany.

Manfred, who is standing on my other side, wipes his face with his arm, muttering, I am so tired of wearing this smelly costume. Can’t wait to take it off!

Manfred is German, a native of Hamburg, and sings baritone in the chorus. He is muscular, with medium brown hair and a goatee. I always think goatees look so silly – men should either have a full beard or shave; goatees just look like they have a scrub brush on their chins.

Angelique is standing on Jenny’s other side, yawning and trying to cover it up with her hand. I don’t know why we have to always stick around and do curtain bows after the final scene, we were done with our part thirty minutes ago! So much for the glamour of singing opera.

After a long performance, we are exhausted and can only think of going home and sleeping. Angelique is French and very petite and we love to listen to her Parisian-accented German. She is good-hearted and always chatty, especially at our early morning rehearsals when no one else is even awake enough to think straight, much less sing. She has long blond hair and always wears four inch heels, so she teeters everywhere. We keep waiting for her to fall over, but maybe she thinks it gives her a sexier French wiggle when she walks. Her shoes are always a topic of conversation as they are all imported and cost half a month’s salary.

I am an American who started my first contract singing in the Frankfurt Opera Company chorus last August, after attending an opera studio in Zurich, Switzerland for a year. Unless I’m wearing a wig on stage, I am easy to spot since I have a huge mass of auburn red curly hair that is usually impossible to manage. The hair, along with my green eyes, turned up nose, and freckles are from my Irish ancestry. I also have two dimples on my cheeks, which I consider birth defects but seem to be considered cute by many cultures.

The Frankfurt Opera Company is a repertoire theater. We run fifteen full productions of shows during our season from the middle of August to late June. The shows range from operas to operettas to musicals.

Some are shown several times a month for years and others only for a few months depending on their popularity. The theater complex also houses the symphony, ballet, and theater company. With the variety of musical performances in the theater, we in the chorus average singing in fifteen to twenty performances per month.

There are usually two productions that run over from the previous year. This year it was Don Carlo and Merry Widow. I had to learn all the music before I arrived in Germany. Fortunately, there were two rehearsals before the first show to brush up on the staging and run through the music. Most of the chorus had sung these two pieces last year so it was routine for them, but for me it was all new. I had to really pay attention to be able to jump in to these productions. Now, that was stress. But somehow I managed and now things are finally starting to settle down.

We started a new production of Orpheus in the Underworld by Offenbach in September. It is a fun French comedy-frolic piece, which actually has the can-can in it, danced by the girls in the ballet. I am hoping we’ll get lucky and be asked to dance with them.

I asked my friend Suzanne, a soloist in Orpheus, if she is excited about the possibility of dancing the can-can, and she glared at me and replied, I am a can-NOT, so don’t even suggest it!

Suzanne is also an American. She took a chorus position for three years in Aachen to be able to live in Germany, and then auditioned for a solo position. She sang as a soloist in Giessen for five years and was heard by the GMD from Frankfurt, who loved her voice and hired her for the Frankfurt Opera. She is a solidly built lady who is a great actress but sometimes has problems getting jobs because she is tall and stocky. Don’t they know well designed costumes can fix that? Because she used to sing in the chorus, she is not too snooty to hang out with us.

There are so many different kinds of rehearsals when preparing for an opera. We start out with musical rehearsals, followed by staging rehearsals, then an orchestra ‘Sitzprobe,’ which means we just sing through the music with the orchestra, then the orchestra stage dress rehearsals or ‘Hauptproben’ and ‘Generalprobe,’ and finally the Premiere. The whole preparation process usually takes about two months. Tomorrow we have an early staging rehearsal at 10 a.m.

To anyone else, this seems like a really late start for the day, but you have to understand this is not an eight to five job. Tonight we performed Don Carlo. That means I had to be at the theater one hour before the act that I first appear in. Therefore, I have to be there at 6:30 p.m. to have my makeup applied, my wig and costume put on, plus warm up my voice. The show runs three and a half hours and then it takes a minimum of a half-hour to get makeup off and change, so I never get home until midnight. And that doesn’t take into account that I can never sleep after a show; I’m always still too excited.

When I first arrived at the theater, I ran into one of the soloists warming up in the chorus room, and he said, I need this room to warm up, chorus members don’t need to warm up.

What, I thought, just because we are not singing solo we don’t need to warm up our voices? Well, some of us are new at this and feel we do need to warm up.

But then I learned that most of the chorus never bothers to warm up, which seems a little jaded to me. They just consider this a job and would never think of practicing or looking at the music beforehand. Do you run a marathon without doing stretches to warm up your leg muscles? I ended up humming in the bathroom so at least I didn’t walk on stage cold, not having exercised my vocal chords. After that, I will warm up at home whenever I can.

During times we are not on stage, we either sit quietly on the side in the wings, go to our dressing rooms, or head downstairs to the cantina to get something to eat or drink. I have had endless cups of Bitte, einen weißen Kaffee (coffee with milk) as we wait for our next call to go on stage. Thankfully we have speakers in our dressing rooms and a video screen that shows us what’s happening on stage so we don’t miss our cues when it’s time to enter.

After the opera, we are all starving and still wound up with the excitement of being on stage, so it’s not unusual for us to head out for a late dinner before going home. Getting to rehearsal, I am often still tired from the night before.

Our normal schedule is to rehearse in the morning and then rehearse again or do a performance in the evening. We have Sunday mornings off, plus one morning and one evening per week, but usually not on the same day.

I had no idea until I came here that there are all sorts of chorus union rules for how many hours a rehearsal can go, the amount of time between rehearsals and a performance, and required breaks. For example, there has to be eleven hours between a performance and the next morning’s rehearsal. There has to be four hours between a morning rehearsal and the next rehearsal. There has to be five hours between a rehearsal and a performance. A