Opera Noir

By Punjabchild

I've decided to take a stab at phan phiction story in a film noir setting. (If you don't know what that means, please look it up) This story takes place in modern day New York City in it's own (slight) AU.

1.The characters act and resemble the stock characters in the film noir world (Femme fatale etc.)
2.There is not previous knowledge of the Phantom of the Opera story. No book, no musical…hence a re-telling.

Red Tape: While POTO is in public domain, I do not own any of the characters (except Sam and any other original characters). This is a piece for entertainment to be enjoyed be fellow fan readers. These characters are based of "The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux

And while he will never read this, (or barely remembers my name or that he had me in class) this story goes out to Professor Eisenstien…this is his entire fault.

And without further adieu……

Opera Noir

Act One: Dirty Laundry

Chapter One

Samantha Cunningham felt uneasy staring down another person. Not only was it rude and childish, it also made her eyes dry. However, this business was as cut throat as survival in the jungle. If a lion wanted to assert its dominance, you would accept the challenge.

Carlotta Giudicelli was that lion, and she stared down at Sam with cold green eyes, the shade of glass in cheap beer bottles. Sam never let her own gaze falter from the diva, who now took turns from staring at her and her business card that Carlotta held in a pinched grip. After a few glances of disbelief, the diva sighed and tossed the card down on the large vanity. She turned her back on Sam to continue primping herself in the mirror as she spoke.

"You came highly recommended, but they never mentioned you were a women." She commented.

Sam relaxed her gaze as well as her feet, taking her left leg off her right and slumping slightly in the white antique chair. "I'm not sure what the problem is, Signora. I'm S. Cunningham, same name that is on the card."

The red haired woman turned again to face her, cracking a sly smile. "Well than I gather there aren't many women in your profession? Are there, Samantha?" She drew out her full name like an insult.

"I reckon not. And please, no one calls me Samantha." She informed the diva

"You mean no one calls you by your given name nowadays. You've established a career name for yourself is that it."

Sam dug her nails harder into her clenched palm. "People never call me Samantha, Signora. But we are not here to discuss my problems, we here because of yours." She retorted.

That seemed to shut her up. She muttered something in Italian focusing on as set of curls dangling next to her cheek. The woman demanded that Sam remove her coat when she came in and leave it outside. She exclaimed abruptly that it 'reeked of smoke' and that she couldn't have any toxins threaten her singing voice. However, Sam had notice a distinct scent of tobacco from the diva's hair as she passed by, and it was certainly a different brand than the one Sam preferred.

The décor of the dressing room was a disgustingly tacky mixture of deep greens of the original interior mixed with the diva's obsession over the color pink. There were pink roses, coats, feathers and all manner of trinket in different shades of pink. The only wall not covered by a mirror, was home to a large picture of the diva. It was an enlargement of a cover of "Opera Magazine" featuring her. The woman's gaze on paper was as harsh as in real life.

La Carlotta peered at the reader beneath a mass of red sausage curls. Her blood red lips were slightly open in a position that was supposed to be alluring, and they stood out against the too pale foundation she wore. As if the color of her eyes weren't striking and obvious enough, it had been highlighted with smoky eyeliner and emerald shadow. Two spots seemed to stick out on the apple of her cheek. The stylist must have been blind and the photographer had too much light in his eyes when they chose this shot. It also proved how much of an arrogant fool Carlotta was to take so much pride in this image.

"Whenever you're ready to talk, signora." Sam informed her.

The diva slammed down her hair brush and got up finally from her table. She picked up a picture frame and marched over to have a seat by Sam. She trusted the picture at her in a huff.

"Do you know who this is?" she asked.

Calmly, she took the picture frame and studied it. It was the portrait of a middle aged man, dressed for a role in the opera. He had two more chins than he needed, and his lips were puckered in an unattractive manner.

"No, I don't recognize this person." She informed Carlotta.

"Good because you will be seeing a lot of him soon. This is my husband, Ubaldo Piangi, principle tenor at the opera." Sam had to stifle a laugh. Carlotta had this picture of her husband in a frame, and actually showed it to people.

"So let me guess, you have suspicions your husband has been unfaithful to you recently?" she inquired.

From the several rapid blinks that greeted her question, Sam knew she shouldn't have used so many big words.

"Yes, my Ubaldo has been seeing other women I'm sure about it. I mean we go to parties and benefits, and we never return home at the same time. Some time he won't show up for a day or two. When I ask him where he has been, he just claimed that he partied too hard and stayed there all night." Carlotta drummed her fingers on her velvet clad knee. "However, when I ask my friends who were at the party with us, they claim they didn't see him at all that night."

"Well…" Sam started

"I know well that the people I get my information from might have been too drunk that night to remember were he ran off too, but I trust them more. He must think I am stupid." She snorted. "That's why I want to hire you Ms. Cunningham, a reliable source who can monitor my husband's affairs for me, while sober." She added.

"I suppose you want pictures then." Sam asked.

"I want everything!" Carlotta corrected her. "Ever bit of dirt you can find. I want to know who he's seeing, their names, ages, height, weight…"

"I get the picture." Sam interrupted.

"I'll make sure you even get full VIP access to the opera so you can monitor him better. I can arrange it with the manager since I have them both under my thumb." She continued on.

Sam leaned forward in her chair, interlacing her fingers slightly. "Ma'am, have you ever confronted your husband about this issue before?"

"You mean asked him if he has been cheating?" From her tone, it was clear this idea had never crossed her mind.

"Yes, it's something I need to know about each of my clients before I take them on." Sam replied.

"My dear, in this world I can't be accused of knowing about my husband's infidelity and simpling asking him. We just can't skip off hand in hand to a marriage counselor. What would my public think of me if word got out? Celebrities like my husband and I have to keep up a certain reputation."

Celebrities? Hardly…

"So hiring a private investigator to spy on your husband and show you every bit of proof that he is having an affair is a better solution?" Sam asked.

The diva leaned forward, batting her lasses which were heavily crusted in mascara. "I consider it this option to be far more…operatic!" she exclaimed and then let out a sputtering high chuckle. Her laugh would have startled Sam into a facial grimace, but she control her disgusted reaction by letting her leg twitch instead.

"Charming notion signora." Sam commented. She paused taking her last moment to consider if she would actually do this. "All right then, seven thousand plus expenses." She offered.

It was now the diva's turn to give a surprise twitch. "Seven thousand! You can't be serious? " She said, rising out of her chair and returning to her vanity.

"What year do you think this is, ma'am? Trust me; this is a low price tag for a high profile case such as this."

"But how long do you think it will take? Is that why the price is so high?"

Sam sighed. She had been given this lecture before. "You think it won't be worth your money if I don't find anything. That I should cut my salary in half if I watch him for a week and see nothing. I can't assume that he's innocent or guilty after a few days. It's like I tell all my clients. If you don't see me for a few weeks, you can assume that he's cheating and if you don't hear from me in for a few weeks that mean he's clean. You see, my business is a lot more complicated than most people think."

Carlotta picked up a bottle of fragrance and applied an ample amount around her neck. "I suppose when you put it that way but…"

Sam interrupted her once more. "If you want be to devote all my time on following you husband, to watch his every move while he is at the opera, you will have to pay for the expense of me not being able to take on any other cases to support myself. Time is money ma'am…only my time is just pricey than others."

"The woman I got your card from said you are worth it." She said in a tone that Sam might have mistaken for a compliment.

"I'm worth every penny." She replied coolly. "Besides if I was referred to you by a friend, shouldn't that speak well towards my taste in clientèle" She added on her charm as thick as it would go. She reached down to the floor to grab her briefcase. "When might I see you again to sign our contract?" she asked.

Again the woman looked at her surprised. "You mean we aren't going to sign one right now?"

"I like to give my clients time to think it over. Sleep on it, if you will?" She informed her.

Carlotta pulled at one of her curls again. "Then I'll only need one night. My mind is very certain on these issues. I can meet you tomorrow if you would tell me were you office was."

"Oh no ma'am!" Sam started in a phony tone of admiration. "I can't ask you to play my salary and then have you unconvinced by coming to my office. I can meet you anytime at the opera if you like. I enjoy making house calls."

Carlotta smiled. She had bought it, giving Sam further proof that she was a better performer than the dive who couldn't see through that cloud of bull. "Wonderful, I shall arrange a meeting with the managers tomorrow. We started rehearsal at eleven, but Ubaldo always has a habit of arriving late. So I take the car and leave him to fetch a taxi. Perhaps you can wait outside then and see if you catch him up to anything."

"Understood." Sam replied, gathering her things and rushing towards the door. "Signora, if your husband happens to see us together, please do be crafty and make up an excuse." Sam reminded her while she stood at the threshold to the diva's dressing room. "You could say I'm a theater critic, a photographer or…"

"A costume buyer!" the diva exclaimed.

Sam tried desperately not to cock her left eyebrow. "A what?"

"That sounds more suitable. You are working for the costume department, securing luxury fabrics from Europe for my latest gowns. That sounds perfect, don't you think Miss. Cunningham?" she asked

"Of course, signora" Sam cringed for she knew nothing about costumes, luxury fabric and hadn't even been to Europe. She slipped her suit jacket on and held her hat out in front of her chest. "Than you'll be seeing me tomorrow, but please don't make any fuss when you see me. It will be a pleasure doing business with you ma'am." She said, lying through her teeth.