Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 16

When I woke up the following morning, Felix Moreau was gone. The door to his room was open, the lights were off, and the place was completely empty. He'd taken all of his worldly belongings with him to Nantes, leaving nothing but furniture. I walked past the room, and as I headed downstairs, a selfish piece of me hoped that Moreau wouldn't pass the audition, if only so I could see him again. It had been mere hours since I'd last seen him, but I missed him already.

Then again, this wasn't about me. If anyone deserved that position in the Opera de Nantes, it was Moreau. He had worked hard, practiced every day for hours on end, poured his soul into the violin. He deserved better than life as a starving artist. Moreau was a great violinist, and I couldn't think of anyone who was more worthy of success than him.

Just before I reached the bottom of the staircase, Gertie snuck up behind me. "Hi Mattie," she said. "We're going out to breakfast, aren't we?"

"Right," I said. "I almost forgot."

The two of us started walking toward Café de la Paix, and when we were a block or so away from the boarding house, Gertie said to me, "Is everything alright? You seem a little off today."

"Someone I knew passed away last night," I said, hoping that I wouldn't have to explain further.

"I'm sorry, Mattie," Gertie said. "That must be hard, especially after everything that happened with Johann Bergmann."

I nodded, and as usual, Gertie continued to speak. Sometimes, I wondered if she and Léa talked for the sake of talking, if they simply enjoyed the sound of their own voice. I, for one, found such frivolous chatter to be exhausting, but to each their own, I suppose.

"The physics department at the university has been on a hiring spree lately. We just got a new adjunct professor, and then we hired a ton of new assistants. With any luck, I might get a promotion out of all of this," Gertie said.

"That's wonderful, Gertie," I said.

Gertie shrugged. "The head of the department says that he prefers women for detailed work like spectral classification, but I think he really just wants an excuse to pay his workers less. It's frustrating sometimes - my team does all of the work, but we get none of the credit."

"It could be worse," I pointed out.

Gertie shuddered. "You're right," she said. "I could be like Winnie: married to a total bore with three kids and no direction or purpose in life."

"That's not what I was saying, Gertie."

"It wasn't?" Gertie sighed and then added, "Winnie's a lost cause, but at least you turned out alright."

I smiled: it was perhaps the closest I would get to a true compliment from my older sister. I looked toward Gertie, who was about to say something else, but we had just arrived at the café, so the two of us headed inside and ordered breakfast.

As we waited for our food and coffee, I picked up a copy of Le Petit Journal and started reading it. "I wish my French was better," Gertie complained. "You and Moreau are practically fluent, but I sound like a dying pig every time I try to speak the language."

"That's about where I was when I first moved here, but you get better over time," I said. "It's all about practice."

I flipped through the newspaper, but it wasn't long at all until I found an article on Lajoie's murder.

ANOTHER MURDER AT THE PALAIS GARNIER

Pierre Lajoie, tuba player for the Paris Opera orchestra, was murdered last night shortly before a rehearsal for Johann Bergmann's opera The Lost Shadow. His corpse was discovered near the staircase by another member of the orchestra, who promptly notified the police. The orchestra and singers then left the building, allowing the Paris police to investigate the murder. Lajoie was shot twice - once in the foot and once in the chest - suggesting that foul play was almost certainly involved in this case. The police refused to disclose whether they suspected a connection to Johann Bergmann's murder, which occurred in the same location on May 28 and remains unsolved...