Disclaimer: There are some talented people to praise for establishing the original characters and the original story, yet I am not one of them.
Title: Peccata Mundi
Summary: The history of a man lies behind his white mask and his devotion to those in need. Through the shadows of his past and the light of the future, he seeks to right the wrong.
Assignment 3: Phoenix Rising
Summary: Playing with fire, one is bound to get burned. The flickering oranges, reds, and yellows are alluring, as well as dangerous. Only in the hands of a young woman will the inferno be able to bring about not only death, but life.
Author's Note: Hello and welcome to episode three of Peccata Mundi. Lately, I have been really into Agatha Christie novels. So I am very inspired by Hercule Poirot on Erik's character. I will most likely be trying to add more "French" words into the text because of that inspiration. Also, I am going to attempt to finish this sucker within two months because I want to get my Christmas special started around Thanksgiving so it can end around the holiday. However, having started up school once again, taking a bit more credits than last year, I don't know how possible this will be. I will try my hardest, though, to update a chapter once a week. Anyway, there is not much to say about this chapter. There are a few minor important things that will arise later on and the mention of a character that will come up in a later story. Yes, I know that character will be easy to spot. Anyway, enjoy! It was fun going for a sort of altered approach. Oh, p.s. there is a relative translation at the bottom. I do not speak French, nor have I studied it. So don't burn me at the stake if I get something wrong. Thanks!
Section 1
- Detective for Hire
Café d'André was filled with a crowd typical of Sunday brunch. Both inside and the terrace outside were void of empty seats. The notable chefs and bakers, hidden away in their domain in the back, had to push an extra quick pace in order to turn out enough crumpets, pastries, and tea in order to please the diners. André, himself, was putting more effort into his presentation. Bustling about endlessly from table to table to ensure his customer's enjoyment, he appeared as a brown-suited blur more than as a person. There was no stopping as he cleared tables, re-prepared them, ensured his guests received seats, and made the occasional rounds of small talk.
Despite this same occupancy and hectic roving every Sunday morning, he became flustered each time. Grateful for the booming business and labeled as a people person, André still managed to overcome the busiest times with joy and no less enthusiasm in his business than when first starting out. Any diner owner could buckle under the incredible strain it took to run one's own shop, resulting in a closure of the company. Yet, André had found a way to maintain his sanity, while establishing a reputable café that never housed an empty room.
André chuckled cordially during one of his many stops to socialize. Being in the presence of a famous diva, he pumped up the charm accordingly. "Well, I will certainly look forward to La Carlotta's next performance." Still with an amused grin on his face, he kissed the top of the woman's hand, bowed, and removed himself from her and her guest's company.
He strode hurriedly and authoritatively toward the counter in the front of the establishment where a line of customers were waiting for a table to open up. Glancing over his shoulder before he came to a stop, he was able to whisper quick directions to an employee attempting to tend to the congestion to take the couple at the front of the pack to a spot that had recently become available. Normally allowed to seat themselves and retrieve any sort of nourishment they wished on their own, the rules changed during peak hours. It would have been awfully difficult to sneak by the overcrowded tables and immerse into a sea of people all waiting for their chance to get at the counter. It was much easier and more convenient to bring in a few extra helping hands to take and deliver orders and assist in seating.
As the young man went to complete his boss' command, André took up the empty position left in his wake. He glanced at the open page of a book containing customer records. Scribbling something down swiftly, he turned his gaze upward to greet the next customers. He was able to form a polite, friendly smile, but nothing more as he spotted the next person to walk through the café doors.
"Excusez," he apologized, rushing past the long waiting guests to get to the new arrival. The small hoard groaned in displeasure and erupted into murmurs of protest when he placed a hand on the gentleman's opposite shoulder blade to usher him further in.
Getting away from the line of guests, André quietly uttered to his companion, "You're late, mon ami."
"I am never late, André," came the relaxed reply in the same low volume. Grey eyes shifted from seated customers to seated customers. "I arrive precisely when I mean to."
André stepped ahead of his companion and stopped, causing the other to come to a halt, as well. Now facing each other, there was no where else to gaze. Blue eyes burned seriously into casual smoke.
"Erik," he started in an even quieter decibel. His eyes searched for some hidden formality in the opposite cloudy eyes, the pale skin that held wrinkles far too old for the age he appeared, the smooth white porcelain of the mask covering the other half of that weary face. "I am fairly good at judging character, am I not?" A short nod confirmed and told him to continue. "This man," there was a brief pause as the correct words were being sought for, "he is your typical businessman. He has little patience, used to everyone conforming to his own schedule. He is outspoken and sits high. There is no one he does not look down upon."
"Your point?"
"Tread carefully. Who knows why he is searching for your assistance."
Erik sighed. "Yes, I know I look a terrible mess. Madamoiselle Daeé would not cease from pestering me about tagging along. Really, that girl has nerve and audacity. She is the most outspoken, truthful female I believe I have ever encountered." He shook his head slightly to clear the way to move on with his thoughts. "However, I am sur gardes. You know how I tolerate the business folk." Erik gave a reassuring smile, patted his old friend on the shoulder and moved past him.
André stared after him, shaking his head in discomfort. "I know. That's why I warned you," he called in the other's retreat. A few people around him looked up from their brunch. He gave them warm smiles, pardoned himself, complimented, and headed around to the front of the café once again.
As Erik approached his usual table set aside in the corner, sure enough a man in a fancy suit occupied one side, sipping some coffee with elegance. The man had dark brown hair, balding ever so slightly, and dull amber irises. He was fit and tall, which was notable despite his position in a seat. There was a commanding presence about him that Erik felt before even sliding across from him.
"I hope I have not kept you waiting, Monsieur," Erik greeted.
"Not at all," the gentleman replied, setting his cup down and adopted a very formal stature. His fingers entwined together into a single fist atop the surface. "Would you prefer ordering before we get down to business?"
"Oh, it is already on its way," Erik remarked with a suave grin. "Now, please explain your situation. What needs my attention?"
"My name is Oliver Ackart. I have made my living working in the scientific and marketing fields."
"Ackart," Erik thought. "Yes, that does sound familiar. I believe I have heard of your successes, Monsieur. They are something to be acknowledged."
"Merci, Monsieur. That is appreciative coming from such a talented Detective." He cleared his throat, signaling the time to become grave and serious. There would be no more stepping around the reason for the meeting. "Yesterday, as I am sure you have read in this morning's edition, one of my trusted partners was murdered." His composure began to crack. His nervousness became evident the more he spoke of the incident. "It was scandalous what had occurred. We had to cover up the actual happenings in order to sustain our company's reputation."
"I know the death of which you speak. It said he had perished from a leak in one of the main boilers. It blew up in his face or some such thing. But now you are telling me that that is all a farce? What is the actuality of it then?"
"I do not wish to blamed, but I feel it is very much my own fault, though my hand was not that which took his life." He ran a hand through his hair. "You see, Monsieur, I know to no mistake that the one who did this is my daughter-in-law."
"Your daughter-in-law?"
"Well, that is, my would be daughter-in-law. You see, I had a son. After my wife died from disease, he was my only family. He showed great promise, too—intelligent, handsome, and fiercely confident. He would have gone very far with the business."
"This past tense unnerves me, Monsieur."
"He is dead, you see. The details, of which, I wish to not get into at this moment." He swallowed hard, and Erik nodded in agreement. It was too sensitive a subject. So Oliver Ackart continued on. "After he passed away, his fiancé fell into a fit of madness. She blamed me and my company for his death. How she received such ideas is beyond my knowledge. She threatened all of us, and until last night I had been unworried, believing it to be naught but empty."
He paused, sighing and catching his breath. The color quickly reentered his cheeks and his sense returned. "I know that she is merely overcome with grief and denial. She cannot accept that her lover was ripped so cruelly away from her. Even so, though, she must be stopped. She'll be coming after my colleagues and I next." Looking Erik squarely in the eyes, his intent became hard and even somewhat cold. "One life is already too much. You must end her reign of terror, for her safety as well as the rest of ours."
There was pause. Erik allowed an uncomfortable silence to develop. Taking his time to mull the confession over, he took a few sips of his tea, which had been delivered during the informational. Oliver Ackart eventually settled back in his chair into a more comfortable position. His eyes never left the Detective, though. It was time to make a decision.
"That is an unfortunate tale, Monsieur," Erik started, taking his time and playing up the anticipation. "A broken heart turned insane. Murder out of madness. It is a fairly romantic story, is it not?" The look on the other's face told Erik that this was not amusing. "Well, I suppose I shall look into the case, Monsieur. Being a Detective for hire, I cannot be picky about the jobs placed before me. I should like to be paid up front, if that is no problem for you?"
A pleased look fell across Oliver's features. "No, no that shouldn't matter. Merci, Monsieur. I shall make it worth your while."
They came to a financial agreement within a couple of minutes. Then Erik rose to make his departure. He tipped his top hat to his new employer and took the first few steps away from the table. Yet, that was as far as he could get before being called back by Monsieur Ackart.
"One more thing," the businessman added. "If this entire ordeal-all of your findings and conclusions and workings-could be kept on the quiet, I would be very much appreciative."
Erik smirked. "Of course. Secrets are my forte." And with another tip of his hat, he took his leave.
Café d'André: André's café or the café of André; Excusez: Excuse or excuse me; Mon Ami: My friend; Sur Gardes: On guard; Merci: Thank you