God in Heaven, you're all obsessed!
~The Phantom of the Opera
Tobias groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose while the managers before him argued back and forth about the notes they held in their hands. He had come to the Opera Garnier that day to complain about the staff that was being careless overhead, bringing the infamous shoe that had fallen into his box. The managers however had other things on their minds.
"We cannot ignore these any longer, Max! Something has to be done!" David shouted, throwing the notes he was holding up in the air.
"And what do you suggest? Going through with his orders? Stopping our schedule to rehearse and perform this…this…garbage?" Max said with disgust rolling his eyes, motioning toward a copy of the finished opera that lay on his desk.
Tobias' eyes flashed to the score that lay on the desk and felt the anger rise within him. This Phantom thing was really going too far.
"What is that…" he asked, his voice clipped, "and when did it arrive?"
Max waved his hand nonchalantly. "A few days ago; Dreadful thing. I don't know why I haven't destroyed it yet."
Although Tobias knew the answer to Max's query. While the manager was not ready to admit it, his superstition towards the infamous Phantom was growing like his partner's.
David was massaging the temples of his head. "We have to do something! I mean it's going too far!" Before the others could protest, he quickly continued. "I'm not saying I believe that there is an Opera Ghost! I'm just saying we can't treat this lightly anymore! I mean…look at these notes!" he practically thrusted them into Tobias' face. "Sabotage! Destruction! Death! Why, he's even threatened to cut down the chandelier if we do not comply!"
Tobias' hand hit David's, causing the notes to fly about, telling the other manager exactly what he thought of the Phantom's notes. Max, who always thought himself calm, collected, and realistic, found he too was at a loss.
"I for one do not believe we should give in to the Phantom's demands, but…" he sighed, "David is right, something needs to be done about this character."
Tobias groaned and withdrew a cigar from his pocket. "So, you're suggesting we light torches, grab our pitchforks, and storm the backstage of the Palais Garnier?" he took one long puff on the cigar and blew a cloud of smoke at the managers. "Thank you, gentlemen, for showing me that I am indeed the patron of an insane asylum."
David ignored the Vicomte's sarcasm. "Monsieur, like you, I do not believe there is a 'Phantom of the Opera'." Tobias began to scoff, but David quickly continued. "I, like Max, do not believe in ghosts! But I do believe in pranksters, and I believe that is the case we have here."
Tobias took a long inhale from his cigar, pondering David's words. Perhaps these men had brains after all.
Max stepped forward nodding his head. "I too believe that is what we have here. Someone who thinks it a great joke to make demands of the Palais Garnier in the name of its infamous ghost."
"That's what I've been telling you all along," Tobias muttered as he exhaled smoke from his cigar, his gaze turning toward the fireplace in the office, his brown eyes glowing with the fire's reflection. "Yet I do not find these jokes, these ghost stories amusing…especially since I'm losing more money than gaining, from them."
At the mention of money, the managers tensed and began looking at each other nervously. Tobias took instant notice and felt his anger begin to boil again. "Tell me."
It wasn't a question. It was a demand.
"Well," Max started, his hands moving to straighten his suit jacket while his eyes avoided the Vicomte's. "It is simply…you see, Jeanine…"
Tobias was growing most impatient and he rubbed the burnt tip of his cigar on Max's desk to show his irritation.
"She refuses to sing," David finished.
If Tobias had been smoking at that exact moment, he would have begun choking. Instead, he looked as though someone had just come along and punched in him the stomach.
"And why the hell not?!" he demanded after the shock allowed him.
"She's been receiving death threats! Personal letters sent to her! We only just found out about these yesterday," David quickly answered before Tobias could demand why he had not been informed of these threats to the Opera House's star.
"The last few performances have been disasters. She's been drugged, kidnapped, and taken ill by mysterious circumstances. And now with these letters…" Max sighed and handed the fuming Vicomte one of Jeanine's notes.
"My dear madam," Tobias began. "Your days at the Paris Opera are numbered. Be grateful it was not strychnine in the glass that you consumed before the performance of Hannibal. I will not be so kind in the future. A new rising star is coming down from the heavens to replace you…I suggest, senora, that you take my advice and end your time here in Paris before I end it permanently. I remain, ever, O.G."
Tobias' voice had become a hiss by the end of the note. He had not failed to notice that when the note was sealed, the wax seal was a red skull. This prankster did indeed have a flair for the dramatics.
"She destroyed all the other notes," Max explained. "But she swears this one was her seventh."
Tobias immediately crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it into the roaring fireplace.
"I have not invested this much money into a project, only to see it go bust due to a myth!" he spat, turning on the managers, his eyes ablaze with fury.
"I want to know who this person is!" he shouted. "I want an investigation conducted on every employee of this theater!"
He turned and gazed at the shoe that had fallen into his box the previous night.
"There are people here who are not showing their betters the proper respect…and I intend to smoke out!" he threw the shoe into the fire at that point, and both David and Max jumped as the slipper erupted into flames.
"An…an investigation, monsieur?" David asked, unsure what exactly that entailed.
"Yes," Tobias hissed. "I want every man–" he paused as he saw Madame Tori Wu pass the office, "–and woman interrogated. I know that these 'ghost stories' are popular amongst the ballet and that the stagehands spread them. Start there…" he instructed. "But I want everyone questioned. And I want it done now."
He turned to go but both Max and David tried to call him back. "But monsieur! We have never gone about such things! How on earth do we do this?"
Tobias grabbed his gloves, hat, and walking stick before turning and snarling, "Just get it done! Or I'll remove my patronage from this place by the New Year!" He slammed the door shut to the office and stalked off in the direction Tori had gone. Lucky for him, she was still in the grand foyer.
"Good morning, madam," Tobias said with a courteous bow, although it was all done for dramatic effect. She was on the top of his list of "would-be Phantoms".
Torir turned with slight surprise at the Vicomte's voice, but returned his bow with a cold but courteous nod of her head.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," she whispered.
"I trust you are in good health?" Tobias asked, although he continued onward, not giving her the opportunity to reply. "I apologize if you overheard that dreadful argument in the manager's office."
"No apology is necessary monsieur," Tori replied icily. "I do not make it a practice to listen to the private conversations of others."
Tobias flashed the ballet mistress a smile, although they both knew it was false. "We were discussing the letters that the 'Phantom of the Opera', or 'O.G.' as he addresses himself, has been sending. The content of some were rather…dark and monstrous. I pray, you have not been threatened by any means?" he asked oh so sweetly.
Tori smiled, although it was a cold sarcastic smile. "I am touched by your concern monsieur…but I assure you, no threats have reached me, at least not yet."
Tobias was not surprised. "For that I am glad to hear. I must say…all these sudden threats and demands; oh, I know letters have been sent before, but I have never seen this many. It seems this 'Phantom' is working extra hard to have things go his way, does it not?"
"Indeed. It is rather fascinating, I must say." Tori nodded her head.
Tobias lifted an eyebrow. "Fascinating?"
Tori could not hide the smile that was threatening to break. "Oh yes, quite fascinating. Fascinating that a character that you claim does not exist and that you have repeatedly sworn is nothing more than a myth…is causing you so much stress and costing you so much money."
Tobias' mouth fell open and he stared at the smiling ballet mistress. She bowed her head to him, saying, "Good day monsieur," before leaving him standing stunned in the foyer.
He felt his face burn, his skin turning red, red as fire, and before the anger threatened to burst, he stormed out of the Opera House, slamming his hat on his head, and took quick long strides to his carriage. Yet before he climbed in, a voice erupted from behind.
"Monsieur! Monsieur Vicomte!"
Tobias was in no mood to speak to anyone, but the last person he expected to see come running toward him was the man he had hired to find Tris.
"Oh thank God monsieur, the housekeeper told me I could find you at the Opera House, but I have been looking-"
Without a word, Tobias reached forward, grabbed Lovelace by the collar of his coat, and pulled him into the carriage.
"Idiot!" Tobias growled, his eyes searching the streets to see if anyone had taken notice, but people were going about their business as usual. He turned and eyed the private investigator who was mopping up his sweaty brow with a handkerchief.
"I thought it was made quite clear that you were not to seek me out or come to this place!" he hissed, resisting every urge to beat the smaller man with his cane. Lovelace bit his lip and glowered in his seat.
"Forgive me monsieur, but…I had to come here! I have no choice," he groaned, hanging his head in shame.
Tobias rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at the man, indicating for him to get on with whatever it was he had come to tell him. Lovelace quickly understood and proceeded to share his news.
"I am at a brick wall, monsieur," he sadly moaned. "I have been searching for the whereabouts of Mademoiselle Prior for weeks, but I have been unable to find anything new. As you know, I have had my sources in London go to the residence of the Fairchilds, but the household knew nothing about the young lady. My American associates in Chicago have not been much help either! Other than the friends of the family would say that Prior and his family left Chicago and gone to Paris with hopes of finding work at the Palais Garnier."
"Yes, yes, you're right, nothing that we didn't already know," Tobias muttered. "So there better be a point with this story, and a good point at that."
Lovelace sighed. "I was able to discover the apartment that Prior and his children l had been renting. The lady who runs the place informed me that the last time she had seen them had been on the morning of October 24."
Tobias' head perked up at this.
"The day of the opening gala," he whispered. Lovelace nodded his head vigorously.
"The woman has not seen either of them since, and neither had given any indication that they would not be returning. She held their place for a month, and after that, she gave their apartment to new tenants. She still has had no word."
Tobias was gazing out the window of his carriage at the Opera House. This mystery was growing increasingly intriguing by the minute. For it was the night of the opening gala that Prior and his son had come bursting into his club, raving about a monster–no, the Phantom–who had kidnapped Tris and was keeping her prisoner.
And since that day, the girl had not been seen since.
Tobias gripped his walking stick even tighter, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Opera House, a cold feeling running through his blood.
"So, you see monsieur, I have no choice…I must continue my investigation here," Lovelace explained, looking most distressed. "But not to worry, I will be most careful, I will avoid Madame Wu at all costs…although it will probably not matter," his voice sounded muffled, as if he was about to cry.
"She has extracted her case from my services, believing me to be an imbecile," he wailed, quickly dabbing his eyes with the handkerchief. Tobias groaned at the sound of Lovelace's lament.
"Get a hold yourself!" he hissed, returning his gaze back to the Opera House. A plan was forming in his mind…
"What do you know about the Palais Garnier, Lovelace?" he casually asked, his gaze never leaving the grand building. Lovelace blew his nose and followed the Vicomte's gaze.
"Regarded as one of the greatest architectural gems of Paris. Why, it's hailed to be one of the greatest arenas for music in all of Europe. But I do not consider myself an opera man to be honest," he sniffled.
Tobias ignored Lovelace's last comment. "Have you ever heard of the place…being haunted?" he asked, turning his attention back to the private investigator.
The question surprised Lovelace. He had considered the Vicomte to be a man of reason, not a man who was ruled by flights of fancy.
"I'm afraid I have not, monsieur…but every building has a story, does it not? And…from what I understand, people who work in theater are a superstitious lot."
"Indeed," Tobias muttered, glancing at the Opera House one last time before focusing all his attention on Lovelace. "There is a ghost story that haunts the Paris Opera House…a specter known as the 'Phantom of the Opera'. There's no such creature of course…but someone has decided to take this 'myth' and try to make it real."
Lovelace nodded his head, reaching into his coat pocket for a pen and some paper. "So, you'd like me to track down this 'Phantom' for you, monsieur?"
Tobias' eyes widened at Lovelace's words. "No, you fool! I'm not giving you a new assignment, especially since you haven't solved the old one!" he turned from Lovelace in disgust. "I am investigating every employee of the Paris Opera House," he paused, his eyes reflecting the fire that had blazed in them back in the managers' office.
"I intend to smoke the villain out," he growled low beneath his breath. "And if anyone becomes suspicious as to why you are going about asking questions of the allusive Beatrice Prior, this is to be your cloak of disguise."
Now Lovelace understood, although he had rather hoped that the Vicomte would change his mind about the girl and pay him for his troubles or give him something new to chase. He was finding this search tiresome. "I shall between my inquiries–"
"Today," Tobias finished, rapping his walking stick against the ceiling of his carriage.
Lovelace paled and found himself stuttering. "T-t-t-today?"
Tobias nodded his head while the driver opened the carriage door. "And I want the information by Christmas," he added with a wave of his hand, indicating to Lovelace to leave his carriage.
Lovelace' mouth fell open. "C-c-c-Christmas? B-b-but that's less than a week!"
Tobias rolled his eyes and grabbed the man once again by the collar of his coat, practically throwing him out of the carriage.
"I'm paying you handsomely enough for you to deliver that information to me by tomorrow! Don't prove me wrong!" he roared, slamming the door shut and shouting to the driver to move on.