Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 20

I knew exactly what I had to do. I packed my things, went downstairs, and headed for the fencing hall - even at this hour, I was sure that was where Léa would be. "Mattie!" Gertie shouted on my way out. "Where are you going?"

I didn't respond as I walked out of the building - I would be home again soon enough, and I could explain everything to my sister then. For now, I needed to talk to Léa. I needed to know what her exact connection was to Bergmann, if she had any insight into why he was murdered. Now that I'd thought of it, I couldn't get the idea out of my head.

As I walked to the fencing hall, I wondered about the possibilities. Was Léa really an old girlfriend of Bergmann's, or was I reading into this too much? Either way, she had to know more about him that she was letting on. Maybe she knew something I didn't know about Lajoie's murder too. Maybe she was like Miss Pascal, holding her cards close until the right moment came.

I passed by the Gare du Nord, and I was about to keep walking when I saw a familiar face. He was carrying a violin case, and there was a remarkably sad look on his face, but it was definitely him. "Mr. Moreau!" I shouted, hoping to get his attention.

He glanced in my direction and smiled slightly. "Miss Brackenborough!" he exclaimed as he stepped closer. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too," I said with a smile. "How did the audition go?"

Moreau suddenly looked quite distraught. "I...I don't want to talk about it," he said, looking like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

"It's okay, Moreau," I said, forgetting all about going to see Léa at the fencing hall. After all, I could always do that another day. For now, I needed to make sure that Moreau was doing alright. "You can talk to me."

The two of us started walking back to the boarding house, Moreau keeping a tight grip on his violin case, and after a long period of silence, Moreau finally said, "I didn't even make it past the preliminary round."

"How?" I asked. "You're an amazing violinist."

"I...I messed up the first note," Moreau said. "I played...I played a C instead of a B in...in the Mendelssohn, and they didn't even let me play the orchestral excerpts. That's how bad it was, Miss Brackenborough. I...I'm a failure."

Tears were streaming down Moreau's face, so I gave him a quick hug, hoping to give him a little bit of comfort. "You're not a failure," I said. "It was just a silly mistake. Nothing to worry about."

"You don't understand," Moreau said. "My whole career rested on that audition. My savings are running out - money's already tight, but soon, I won't have anything left. I needed that job."

"There will be other auditions."

"Yes, but I have to pay rent until then." Moreau sighed and then said, "Maybe I should give up. Clearly, I'm not meant to be a violinist."

"Perhaps you could get a job in music while you keep auditioning," I suggested. "I think you'd make a great music teacher."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Moreau said. "Those positions rarely open up, and when they do, I always botch the interview. I'm telling you, Miss Brackenborough. I'm a failure."

"No, you're not. You're a fantastic musician, and whoever's running the Opera de Nantes must be deaf if they can't tell that."

Moreau wiped away his tears. "Thanks for the encouragement, but I don't think that's true."

"Let's agree to disagree."

"Alright," Moreau said. "So did anything exciting happen while I was gone? It always seems like I miss out on something whenever I leave town. Last time I had an audition, someone set off a bomb in a café..."