Piano Man
Chapter 3: Musical Talent
A/N: Sorry I haven't uploaded lately.I dunno if anyone cares.but anyway!! My modem stuffed up and I couldn't go on here 4 AGES!! For all non-musical people, 8ve is an Octave. It is basically 8 notes. Like C-to-C, or D to D. 8 notes above C is C again, or an octave. Kinda hard to explain, but I think you'll get it ;-)
Disclaimer: I don't own Goren or Eames.
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"Luc was a good pianist," Yannis started.
"How long have you known him?" Eames asked. She and Yannis were sitting at a polished black table while Goren looked around the room. It was nicely decorated with many photos and certificates.
"We went to the same high school. Since we were in our teens. We were both picked for a big music school in Paris," he said. "Then a man came looking for great talent, and Luc was the best and I his second man."
"These are some great achievements. Passed all your exams with flying colours, competition awards, tours of Germany. Why didn't he pick you?" Goren asked. Yannis shrugged. It did piss him off.
"Because Luc's father was the great and almighty Claude Kilburn. Luc started playing very young, sort of a child prodigy. First big concert when he was 17. I was 20."
"That isn't a very big age difference," Eames said.
"Well it is in the music industry. They thrive on young new talent. Luc was younger but he had the same experience as me, so he was more important. I'd put in all the same hard work, and he did and he got chosen because of his age." Yannis took a breath to calm himself. It made him angry. His father left him and his mother at a young age and they struggled to put food on the table. It was a wonder his mother could afford to put him through lessons. Somehow, though, they managed, and look where he ended up. His mother always wanted Yannis to be the best he could be, and he ended up a second man. SECOND! That wasn't good enough.
"One last thing," Goren piped up breaking Yannis' thoughts. "All these pictures have one thing in common. Your right eye is shut. How come?"
"It is light sensitive," he answered. Goren nodded in understanding. "Now if you both don't mind I have to get to the dry-cleaners," he said picking up the suit bag.
"We can take it if you like. We're going that way and I have a suit to pick up. It's no trouble at all," Goren offered. Yannis thought about it, and then timidly gave him the bag. Goren scooped it up and they left.
"Since when are we going to the dry cleaners?" Eames asked as they got into the car.
"Since I want to check the suit for evidence," Goren said matter-of-factly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Goren laid the suit out on his desk and compared it to the piece of cloth they found at the scene.
"It's the same. I think he did it," Eames concluded. Goren shrugged.
"It still could have been someone else. Maybe his manager or something," he said.
"Why would his manager want to kill him? He'd lose all that money," Eames objected to his idea. It didn't make sense. Goren thought for a minute.
"So for arguments sake, lets say Yannis did it. Why would he?" Goren said. They thought for a minute, then he piped up with an answer. "He wants to be the main man. He wants to be in the spotlight for once." He paced around, his mind conjuring up the theory.
"It works. We just need evidence. Do we have any evidence besides the scrap of material?" Eames asked. Goren sat down, head resting on his hand and staring at the piece of clothing. It had to hold a clue. He stared until it made his eyes hurt. Suddenly he saw something interesting. He picked up the coat and put it on Eames.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she said.
"Just hold on a minute. Now see here on the right side of the coat. He has light sensitivity in his right eye, so he shields his eye with his right hand, and as he brings it up it catches on something and it rips," he said, acting it out. Eames nodded.
"I think that is enough for an arrest."
~*~*~*~*~*~*
The detectives made their way to the theatre where Yannis was practising. He was sitting at a black piano playing Beethoven's Fifth. He looked like he was enjoying himself. His hands moved across the piano quickly and a look of concentration was on his strong facial features.
"Yannis Olger you're under arrest for murder," Eames said as she approached him and cuffed his hands.
"What? This is an outrage! How can you do this to me?" he yelled as the men in blue came to take him. Goren sat at the piano. He had been fascinated by the instrument and remembered learning a bit a school. He pressed 'Middle C', then 'D', 'E', 'F', 'G', 'A', 'B', and then '8ve C'. He smiled to himself.
"Do you play?" Eames asked as she walked up behind him.
"Used to. In school. You?"
"I had lessons until I left primary school," she said as she sat to his left. "My teacher used to make me practise my pieces until I knew them off by heart. I guess that put me off learning after I left," she said as she stood up and walked away. He sat for a moment more, and then followed her.
"Were you good at it?" he asked. She shrugged.
"Not bad I guess. I never really tried I guess," she told him. She always wondered what would have happened if she had still kept playing. Would she have been a singer? Would she still have been a cop? She didn't care. She was happy where she was now.
"I always imagined I was going to be a great musical man. Like Mozart or something," Goren said remembering those hours of listening to the composer's work. Eames looked at him and smiled.
"Well don't worry, you turned out just fine - even if you aren't a musical genius," she said. He smiled back.
"Thanks. Now, lets go kick some suspect booty."
A/N: Sorry I haven't uploaded lately.I dunno if anyone cares.but anyway!! My modem stuffed up and I couldn't go on here 4 AGES!! For all non-musical people, 8ve is an Octave. It is basically 8 notes. Like C-to-C, or D to D. 8 notes above C is C again, or an octave. Kinda hard to explain, but I think you'll get it ;-)
Disclaimer: I don't own Goren or Eames.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Luc was a good pianist," Yannis started.
"How long have you known him?" Eames asked. She and Yannis were sitting at a polished black table while Goren looked around the room. It was nicely decorated with many photos and certificates.
"We went to the same high school. Since we were in our teens. We were both picked for a big music school in Paris," he said. "Then a man came looking for great talent, and Luc was the best and I his second man."
"These are some great achievements. Passed all your exams with flying colours, competition awards, tours of Germany. Why didn't he pick you?" Goren asked. Yannis shrugged. It did piss him off.
"Because Luc's father was the great and almighty Claude Kilburn. Luc started playing very young, sort of a child prodigy. First big concert when he was 17. I was 20."
"That isn't a very big age difference," Eames said.
"Well it is in the music industry. They thrive on young new talent. Luc was younger but he had the same experience as me, so he was more important. I'd put in all the same hard work, and he did and he got chosen because of his age." Yannis took a breath to calm himself. It made him angry. His father left him and his mother at a young age and they struggled to put food on the table. It was a wonder his mother could afford to put him through lessons. Somehow, though, they managed, and look where he ended up. His mother always wanted Yannis to be the best he could be, and he ended up a second man. SECOND! That wasn't good enough.
"One last thing," Goren piped up breaking Yannis' thoughts. "All these pictures have one thing in common. Your right eye is shut. How come?"
"It is light sensitive," he answered. Goren nodded in understanding. "Now if you both don't mind I have to get to the dry-cleaners," he said picking up the suit bag.
"We can take it if you like. We're going that way and I have a suit to pick up. It's no trouble at all," Goren offered. Yannis thought about it, and then timidly gave him the bag. Goren scooped it up and they left.
"Since when are we going to the dry cleaners?" Eames asked as they got into the car.
"Since I want to check the suit for evidence," Goren said matter-of-factly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Goren laid the suit out on his desk and compared it to the piece of cloth they found at the scene.
"It's the same. I think he did it," Eames concluded. Goren shrugged.
"It still could have been someone else. Maybe his manager or something," he said.
"Why would his manager want to kill him? He'd lose all that money," Eames objected to his idea. It didn't make sense. Goren thought for a minute.
"So for arguments sake, lets say Yannis did it. Why would he?" Goren said. They thought for a minute, then he piped up with an answer. "He wants to be the main man. He wants to be in the spotlight for once." He paced around, his mind conjuring up the theory.
"It works. We just need evidence. Do we have any evidence besides the scrap of material?" Eames asked. Goren sat down, head resting on his hand and staring at the piece of clothing. It had to hold a clue. He stared until it made his eyes hurt. Suddenly he saw something interesting. He picked up the coat and put it on Eames.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she said.
"Just hold on a minute. Now see here on the right side of the coat. He has light sensitivity in his right eye, so he shields his eye with his right hand, and as he brings it up it catches on something and it rips," he said, acting it out. Eames nodded.
"I think that is enough for an arrest."
~*~*~*~*~*~*
The detectives made their way to the theatre where Yannis was practising. He was sitting at a black piano playing Beethoven's Fifth. He looked like he was enjoying himself. His hands moved across the piano quickly and a look of concentration was on his strong facial features.
"Yannis Olger you're under arrest for murder," Eames said as she approached him and cuffed his hands.
"What? This is an outrage! How can you do this to me?" he yelled as the men in blue came to take him. Goren sat at the piano. He had been fascinated by the instrument and remembered learning a bit a school. He pressed 'Middle C', then 'D', 'E', 'F', 'G', 'A', 'B', and then '8ve C'. He smiled to himself.
"Do you play?" Eames asked as she walked up behind him.
"Used to. In school. You?"
"I had lessons until I left primary school," she said as she sat to his left. "My teacher used to make me practise my pieces until I knew them off by heart. I guess that put me off learning after I left," she said as she stood up and walked away. He sat for a moment more, and then followed her.
"Were you good at it?" he asked. She shrugged.
"Not bad I guess. I never really tried I guess," she told him. She always wondered what would have happened if she had still kept playing. Would she have been a singer? Would she still have been a cop? She didn't care. She was happy where she was now.
"I always imagined I was going to be a great musical man. Like Mozart or something," Goren said remembering those hours of listening to the composer's work. Eames looked at him and smiled.
"Well don't worry, you turned out just fine - even if you aren't a musical genius," she said. He smiled back.
"Thanks. Now, lets go kick some suspect booty."