Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 19

Miss Dupont froze for a moment before she looked me over and said, "You're smarter than I thought, Miss Brackenborough." I stammered for a few seconds, unsure whether that was supposed to be a compliment or not, and then the detective said, "My name is Louise Pascal. I used to work for the Deuxième Bureau, but now, I'm a private detective."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked.

"You don't," Pascal said. "You'll have to trust me."

I had the feeling that Pascal hadn't played all of her cards yet, but nevertheless, I believed her for now. I reached into my purse, and I pulled out the paper I'd found at the conservatory, the half-finished, poorly-spelled essay on cadenzas, and I handed it to Pascal. She stared at it for a moment and then asked me, "What's this?"

"Sylvestre said that he was at the conservatory grading essays on the use of cadenzas throughout history on the night Bergmann was murdered, and this paper proves it," I said. "It doesn't really say anything about Lajoie's murder, but I know that he didn't kill Bergmann, and..."

"I know that already," Pascal said.

"You do?"

Pascal nodded. "I've done some investigating, and Sylvestre's alibi checks out. The organ and the violin professors at the conservatory both saw him there on the night of Bergmann's murder, and one of the neighbors saw him outside with Sophie on the night of Lajoie's murder. He didn't do it."

"Then why were you here?"

"Just because he didn't do it doesn't mean that he's not worth investigating," Pascal explained. "Between the missing rifle and the fact that he hated Bergmann for some reason..."

"He said that he didn't like Bergmann because he stole his bicycle," I said, trying to be helpful, but Pascal disregarded me and continued to speak.

"There's a lot of evidence that Bertrand Sylvestre was involved in the murders somehow," Pascal said. "My best guess right now is that someone framed him, but I can't say for sure who it was or why they did it."

"What if there were two killers?" I said. "Do we know for sure that Bergmann and Lajoie's murders were connected?"

Pascal laughed. "You never got a chance to get a good look at the bodies, did you?" she said.

"Not really," I responded.

"There was a shape written in pen on both Bergmann and Lajoie's left arm," Pascal explained. "No one's sure whether it's a crescent, a C, or simply a curve, but because it's on both of them, it has to be the same killer. Then again, there's always the possibility that the second murderer simply wants us to think that both crimes were committed by the same person, but that's unlikely, especially considering that this information was never released to the public."

"Why are you telling me then?"

"Do you even know how long it's been since I've gotten to talk to someone about this?" Pascal asked. "The police don't listen to me, my clients are buffoons and simpletons, my friends and family can't know about my work, and most of them think that being a private eye is improper anyways..."

"It sounds like you need new friends."

"Honestly, sometimes I think that too," Pascal said with a chuckle. "Miss Brackenborough, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? You might be able to give me some insight into Sylvestre's role in this whole mess."

"Sure," I said. "What would you like to know?"

"Whatever you're willing to tell me," Pascal said, so of course, I told her everything I knew about Sylvestre, which admittedly, wasn't much. I recounted every interaction I'd had with him. I told her what I knew of his family, which, as far I knew, consisted of Sophie, Jean-Luc, his now-deceased wife, and her brother in Orleans. I told her what I knew of his job, his art, the people in his circle, all of whom seemed a little distant, as if they were afraid to get too close to him. In the end, it was a picture of an aloof, solitary man, a man who had lost everything. And now, if Miss Pascal was right, he was being framed for murder.

"The rifle has to be the key to all of this," Pascal concluded. "When was the last time you saw it?"

"It was a while ago," I said. "At least a week."

"Who's been in the house since then?"

"A lot of people. Léa Valencourt, Felix Moreau, and my sister Gertie, for sure, along with the servants and some people Sylvestre knows from the conservatory. Chesneau, Maret, de Villiers...maybe Lemaire and Perrin too?"

"Interesting," Pascal said. "This narrows things down a lot, but it seems like there are still a few missing pieces to the puzzle. I'll investigate, of course, but..."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't want you meddling in this case, Miss Brackenborough," Pascal said. "Leave it to the professionals."

Before I could say anything, Pascal walked away, and I headed back toward the boarding house. When I got there, Gertie was downstairs, talking to one of the other renters about some scientific principle I didn't quite understand. She didn't even acknowledge my presence, so I walked past her and went upstairs. I headed down the hallway, but to my disappointment, it was filled with nothing but soul-crushing silence. I paused in front of Moreau's room, wishing he was here, and then I entered my room, sat down at my desk, and started working on Bergmann's 10th Symphony again.

This time, I tried my hand at writing a second movement to the symphony. I tried adding a slow, lyrical melody, but it didn't seem to work. It didn't fit well with what Bergmann had written, so I crossed it out and started again, hoping that I could find someone inspiration in Bergmann's final piece. I flipped through Bergmann's sketch of the first movement, and for just a moment, a quick, virtuosic trombone melody floated through my head.

Bergmann had written a trombone concerto, or more accurately, he'd written forty-two of them, but he'd never published any, and for a moment, I wondered why that was. It couldn't just be because he was dissatisfied with the quality. Why would he keep returning to that instrument, time and time again?

Then I remembered what Léa had said.

He had an old sweetheart who played trombone...

I remembered Léa's performance at the Order of the Nightingales meeting, how she'd stepped into that quartet and given everyone an incredible performance, and all of a sudden, I knew who I needed to talk to next. I knew exactly what the missing piece of the puzzle was.

It was Léa Valencourt.