The next rehearsal was the last time any one ever saw Jessica alive.
It's scary how perfectly normal that rehearsal was. We all showed up, unpacked instruments and rehearsed. Ms. Basil even watched us from the balcony. But then, at the end, Jessica looked... strange. She was paled, and she stumbled and looked out of place.
"Jessica? What's wrong?" somebody asked.
"I... don't... feel..." Jessica mumbled, her knees shaking. "So... good..."
Mr. Hailey rushed over and held her upright. "C'mon, let's go get you a drink of water, huh? And someone to pick you up?" He practically carried the swooning girl off the stage.
I put my flute away, worried. I watched as Mr. Hailey led Jessica away... but why was he heading away from the doors? Where was he going? I stood and tried to see, and noticed Holmes doing the same. He looked back and our eyes met.
We've been through a lot, and it's us to expect the worst. At his unspoken signal I began to move forward, but then a flash of black caught my eye. Mr. Johnson, gangster hat and all, was milling around the flutes, looking up, looking down, wiping a hand across Jessica's chair...
I gulped and ran to Holmes, pushing through the last stragglers. "Let's go," he said quietly.
We turned and walked in the direction of Mr. Hailey and found a door off to stage right. Cautiously, biting my lip, I pushed it open.
Our mouths fell open. This, I decided in an instant, was one. sick. guy.
A desk in the middle of the room with a nametag told us that this was Mr. Hailey's office. But his walls were covered, and I mean literally COVERED in old play posters. And not just any posters. The Phantom of the Opera. Frankenstien. Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. But most of all, the same poster repeated over and over again.
It was a picture of the Caldecott Theater, with a big black rose in the middle. FIVE FLUTES AND A BLACK ROSE, it said. A TALE OF MYSTERY, DEATH, AND DECEPTION. And then at the bottom of the poster, in very small italic letters it said: Things are not always what they seem...
"Can I help you?"
Holmes and I both jumped. Mr. Hailey had emerged from a doorway on the right, and was looking from one of us to the other.
"Ouuh..." I said.
"We, we were just worried about... about..." Holmes looked at me.
I caught on. "Jessica! She's a friend of mine and we wanted to see if she was all right."
Mr. Hailey nodded his head serenely. "She's lying down on my couch back there, and she says she can drive back home when she feels a little better." Mr. Hailey paused, and squinted at us. "Those lights get awfully hot up there, don't they? I'm sure she just got a little dizzy. She'll be fine." Mr. Hailey looked at us again, as Holmes was gazing around the office.
"Ah, you like my posters, do you? Yes, yes, some of my favorites." He smiled. "Five Flutes and a Black Rose. Best play we ever did..."
I tipped my head to the side and frowned, quizzical.
"You don't know? Ah, let me tell you!" Mr. Hailey grinned and rubbed his hands together. "A long time ago, this was a theater, not a music theater, but a real, acting theater. I was in the cast... we began a play called 'Five Flutes and a Black Rose.' It was a murder mystery about... well, about an orchestra. A crazy man was killing off the flutes, one by one. He would mark them all with a black rose, the night before he killed them. Only... while we were rehearsing the play... the flautists really, truly, died. It was frightening, some said the play had come to life, some accused the actors, others... others said it was a Phantom. Just like - " he pointed at the Phantom of the Opera. "That's why they closed down the theater. Too many rumors. To this day people still swear that the ghost hangs around, waiting for a flautist..." Mr. Hailey looked at me and grinned. I clutched my flute case with white knuckles.
"Um, I think... I think we'd better go home, then, if Jess is okay..." I mumbled.
"Wait, one moment," Holmes said. "Mr. Hailey, what part did you play?"
"Me?" Mr. Hailey chuckled. "Why, I was the murderer, of course."
It's scary how perfectly normal that rehearsal was. We all showed up, unpacked instruments and rehearsed. Ms. Basil even watched us from the balcony. But then, at the end, Jessica looked... strange. She was paled, and she stumbled and looked out of place.
"Jessica? What's wrong?" somebody asked.
"I... don't... feel..." Jessica mumbled, her knees shaking. "So... good..."
Mr. Hailey rushed over and held her upright. "C'mon, let's go get you a drink of water, huh? And someone to pick you up?" He practically carried the swooning girl off the stage.
I put my flute away, worried. I watched as Mr. Hailey led Jessica away... but why was he heading away from the doors? Where was he going? I stood and tried to see, and noticed Holmes doing the same. He looked back and our eyes met.
We've been through a lot, and it's us to expect the worst. At his unspoken signal I began to move forward, but then a flash of black caught my eye. Mr. Johnson, gangster hat and all, was milling around the flutes, looking up, looking down, wiping a hand across Jessica's chair...
I gulped and ran to Holmes, pushing through the last stragglers. "Let's go," he said quietly.
We turned and walked in the direction of Mr. Hailey and found a door off to stage right. Cautiously, biting my lip, I pushed it open.
Our mouths fell open. This, I decided in an instant, was one. sick. guy.
A desk in the middle of the room with a nametag told us that this was Mr. Hailey's office. But his walls were covered, and I mean literally COVERED in old play posters. And not just any posters. The Phantom of the Opera. Frankenstien. Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. But most of all, the same poster repeated over and over again.
It was a picture of the Caldecott Theater, with a big black rose in the middle. FIVE FLUTES AND A BLACK ROSE, it said. A TALE OF MYSTERY, DEATH, AND DECEPTION. And then at the bottom of the poster, in very small italic letters it said: Things are not always what they seem...
"Can I help you?"
Holmes and I both jumped. Mr. Hailey had emerged from a doorway on the right, and was looking from one of us to the other.
"Ouuh..." I said.
"We, we were just worried about... about..." Holmes looked at me.
I caught on. "Jessica! She's a friend of mine and we wanted to see if she was all right."
Mr. Hailey nodded his head serenely. "She's lying down on my couch back there, and she says she can drive back home when she feels a little better." Mr. Hailey paused, and squinted at us. "Those lights get awfully hot up there, don't they? I'm sure she just got a little dizzy. She'll be fine." Mr. Hailey looked at us again, as Holmes was gazing around the office.
"Ah, you like my posters, do you? Yes, yes, some of my favorites." He smiled. "Five Flutes and a Black Rose. Best play we ever did..."
I tipped my head to the side and frowned, quizzical.
"You don't know? Ah, let me tell you!" Mr. Hailey grinned and rubbed his hands together. "A long time ago, this was a theater, not a music theater, but a real, acting theater. I was in the cast... we began a play called 'Five Flutes and a Black Rose.' It was a murder mystery about... well, about an orchestra. A crazy man was killing off the flutes, one by one. He would mark them all with a black rose, the night before he killed them. Only... while we were rehearsing the play... the flautists really, truly, died. It was frightening, some said the play had come to life, some accused the actors, others... others said it was a Phantom. Just like - " he pointed at the Phantom of the Opera. "That's why they closed down the theater. Too many rumors. To this day people still swear that the ghost hangs around, waiting for a flautist..." Mr. Hailey looked at me and grinned. I clutched my flute case with white knuckles.
"Um, I think... I think we'd better go home, then, if Jess is okay..." I mumbled.
"Wait, one moment," Holmes said. "Mr. Hailey, what part did you play?"
"Me?" Mr. Hailey chuckled. "Why, I was the murderer, of course."
