...It's been a minute...I have learned that I really need to stop making promises that I can't keep when it comes to my writing. It literally took me months to get this one short, measly chapter cranked out. I finally did it. I have no intention of leaving this fanfiction unfinished. So I shall try my hardest to finish it (without time constraints) and give you the best quality I can muster. I know I am behind on my shoutouts, so I will just give a mass shoutout to everyone and hope you forgive me. I'll get my stuff (and my life) together one of these days...

Chapter 55

I burst through the door. "You?! You son of a bi-"

"Mandy!"

I looked back at Erik, a shocked look adorning his masked face. "I was gonna say biscuit eater, I swear."

He turned from me and faced LeChanco again. "What is the purpose of this? What could you possibly gain by blackmailing me? By threatening us?"

LeChanco sighed, his mask slipping from his fingers. "Honestly, I would like to have a place back in the opera."

I scoffed in disbelief. "You mean you killed Buquet just to get your job back?"

"I didn't kill him, but don't you think that filth had it coming anyways?"

"He may have had it coming but think about the family he left behind. Think about what they're going through."

He took a breath to say something, then thought better and shut his mouth, nodding solemnly.

Erik moved to stand between us. "What do you mean you didn't kill him?"

"I mean exactly that!" LeChanco shouted. "I didn't kill the fil – I mean poor soul."

He changed his wording when I shot him a sharp glare. I may not have liked Buquet, but he deserved a bit of respect in death, given how he was taken out so brutally.

"Okay," I began. "So, we still have one mystery to solve. But I do believe we have finally solved the mystery of the Black Rose. Unfortunately, it wasn't as interesting as I thought it would be."

Erik looked at me like I was crazy. "Unfortunately?"

"I mean think about it. It could have been something like international espionage or something cool like that. But no, it was an old choir boy wanting his job back. Not even anything to do with treason. I thought we could have had a revolution on our hands."

"I can never figure out how you come to your conclusions..."

Needless to say, it was not Erik's decision to make when it came to hiring LeChanco back. That chore fell to Firmin and Andre, with the help of Antoinette, of course.

"I do not see how we can afford to hire on another performer when we are not even currently putting on an opera."

I rolled my eyes at Andre. "It's not like we're in the poor house. We made a killing off the last performance. It was a hit!"

The men went pale at the word 'killing'. "Okay, that was probably a poor choice of words. But you know I'm right."

Honestly, I didn't want LeChanco back in the operahouse. I could do without the arrogance he so eloquently exudes. But if it got him off mine and Erik's backs, I could put up with it for a bit. But even I have my limits...

"You are right," Antoinette cut in. She had been read in on the situation, so she knew what all had occurred. "We will start auditions for the next show in two weeks. We do not necessarily have to hire him back but let him audition. Make him earn it."

After a pensive glance between the two managers, Firmin finally sighed. "That would be fair, I suppose. But don't except him to get hired right on if there are others that surpass his talent."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Two weeks later, we find LeChanco back on the payroll and practicing with the choir. Erik and I watched him from Box 5 as he interacted with his fellow choir members and Monsieur Reyer. It seemed as if this whole experience had humbled LeChanco a bit, surprisingly. All 'yes, monsieur' and 'no, monsieur', showing nothing but manners and politeness. "Who is that and what did they do with the real LeChanco?"

Erik made a noise of agreement. "This is not the same man that worked here before."

"It almost seems as if he's working at another angle."

"Whatever do you mean?" he inquired.

"Well, think about it: why would you go through all of that trouble just to get your old job back? The notes, the blackmail, the threats. He has to have another motive other than just wanting to sing tenor again."

"He's actually a barito-"

I shot him a look. "He could be a soprano for all I care. Wait, scratch that. We don't need another Carlotta."

I took his silence as agreement as we left the box to find some lunch.