Dark Keys of Uncomplacency

Chapter 12: Sheet Music

The three letters repeated themselves over and over in Allison's mind. It was a form of cruel punishment like staying after school to write some useless behavioral affirmation on the board a hundred times. 'C-R-P', 'C-R-P', 'C-R-P'.

"They're definitely initials for that Cedric Rhenish guy I told you about", said Julian, lying in the shade from the tree in their backyard. It was a sunny, breezy day in which the wind bounced off the tree branches and flowed through Allison's hair and around her ears, making her feel as though she was under a hair dryer.

"You hear me? They gotta be his initials", he said once more.

"Yes, yes I hear you", she replied. "But why would anyone just give their name away like that? And plus wouldn't his initials read 'C-R-R', for Cedric Rhenish Rho?". She keyed the letters in on her phone and searched for the fifth or sixth time. CRP STEIFF BALTIMORE SERIAL KILLER. Still nothing new that Julian hadn't already found: serial killer based in Baltimore, during the mid- to late-1800s. It seemed that the phrase serial killer had otherwise been overtaken by Bundy, Gacy, the Zodiac killer, and a whole list of others, that Allison was not interested in. "Google is useless", she sighed as she leaned back on her mother's gardening stool.

"Ah, there you guys are", said Connor jogging up to them. He dropped his bookbag and caught his breath. "I found some really cool shit".

"What took you so long? You were supposed to be back from the library an hour ago", Allison said wrapping her hair in a neat bun.

Connor shrugged and replied, "I stopped off to get a 'spectral photo trap'. Maybe we can catch this fucker on camera".

"Good thinking", Julian spoke up. "You got something to find out what's wrong with Mrs. Marley while we're at it?".

"No, why?" he replied with a furrowed brow.

"Remember? We think she's possessed, she's the one that gave me the marks, AND my mother is dying to invite her to dinner one of these days".

"Oh right. Hey speaking of the markings on your wrist, what did you say you saw on your wrist yesterday when we were in the basement?".

Allison took a deep breath and recited the words once more: Blonde hair so vast and bosom so plentiful enough to cause man to weep just the same.

"Hm, that makes sense. We know that this serial killer picked blonde women as his targets, right? It seems even in death he's leaving behind self-incriminating clues".

"Yeah but what do they mean?". Allison pondered the words like a jagged-edged puzzle piece waiting to reveal it's spot in the big picture. "It sounds like a retort to some previous statement". With peaked curiosity she whipped out her phone and searched for phrases having to do with crying men or women, related to music. After a few moments she came up with something undoubtedly related to the quote that appeared on her arm. "Music should strike fire from the heart of man, and—".

"Bring tears from the eyes of woman". Connor had finished the quote with such ease that Julian nearly fell off the tree he was leaning on.

"How did you know that? Who even said that, some poor old guy who lived under a bridge?"

"No". Allison shook her head slowly and turned towards Connor. "Beethoven".

"Are you some kind of expert in the history of Beethoven?", asked Julian.

"Not me, my 7th grade music teacher. She would talk about Beethoven at least once a day. She also had a variety of posters and quotes all around the room. It's kind of hard to forget them at this point". He shrugged and reached for his bookbag.