Chapter Three

"Trust your instincts. If you have no instincts, trust your impulses." –Noel Coward

Desiree wished the flashlight she held had a brighter beam. She could barely see up in the rafters. And it was a little spooky up here late at night. She sighed; listening to herself, freaked out by some old theater at night. "You're getting soft, Deslter." She muttered to herself. It was a bad habit she had, talking to herself that she had developed over the years.

            Cleaning up after hours was really not as hard job as Spangler made it out to be. Sweep up the stage, clean the long row of mirrors, make sure all the ropes were fasten so nothing would fall during the night, and clear the theater of any vagrants. Too bad the locks and lights were on timers, and as for the vagrants, if there were any; she had a trusty switchblade for that. Not that she had any prejudices against street people; she just wanted to be prepared. No telling what a drunk or junkie might do to you if they knew you had money.

She flashed the light across the catwalks; double-checking to make sure the ropes are all tied tight. Seemed no one else besides her was in the theater. She pushed her light button on her watch, which flashed 1:15. Hey not bad, she'd be home before two. Then her ears picked up the sound of electronic music. She checked her pocket. No it wasn't her cell phone. Perhaps it was some one else's phone that someone left in the theater. She was about to climb down, when a though occurred to her.

Wait, if it was some one phone, who would be calling at so late. Unless? She cupped one of her ears while holding onto the ladder with the other. The music now didn't sound like cell phone, for it wasn't repetitive like a ring tone. The melodies were to complex, surrounded by a definitive accompaniment. And besides, the sound she could now tell was coming from above her.

She climbed back up the ladder. Still holding her flashlight and cupping her ear she followed the sound to the end of the catwalk were she was meet by a spiral staircase leading up higher into the theater. She showed her light upward to see that what was above was yet another catwalk and further than that, a large metal grating. She slowly descended the stairs, which were very dusty, and it looked like no one had used them in a long time. She guessed that it was hard to see this stairs, for even when the lights were turned on; they were hidden in a corner of darkness. In fact, she guessed the staff had thought the catwalk she was previously standing on was the highest. After she had finished climbing the stairs, she landed on a small platform which had another ladder rooted to it. The music continued and indeed was much louder. Nowhere to go but up, she thought.

She stuck the flashlight in her pocket and started to climb up. The air felt humid and smelled awful. It was only when she reached the top that did she discovered why. All over the floor were pieces of mice feces. She clamped her nose and turned away. "God disgusting!" Careful not the step in them, Dessy got off the ladder.

Now she was in an even stranger place. It was another platform, larger and covered by many small broken desks and chairs, like the kind you find in a classroom, not an opera house. And there was a door, a door with a light behind it. She shined her light on the floor to see a step of footsteps set into the dusty floor. Male footsteps from a dress shoe it looked like. She was not alone up here. She made her way to the door. Turning the knob very carefully, she found out it was unlocked. God, was did she always have to deal with trouble, she thought placing her fingers over her switchblade, wishing she had a gun instead and threw the door open.

The music swelled around her a bright light from a computer screen shined right into her eyes. A man was seated in front of it, surrounded by a wall of electronics. Electric piano, keyboards, rows of disks, record, cassettes, and CDs, mixers and woofers. Like something out of a DJ or a techno Mozart's closet. The man noticing the noise, pressed a key on his console which stopped the music, turned and walked to her.

"Ah shit." Dessy muttered. Looks like I interrupted some one's privacy. She backed against the close door. She couldn't even see the man's face. Shielding her eyes from the light, she closed tighter around her blade her figure hovering over the switch. Her breathing increase and sound more like raking gasps, and sweat began to rise on her forehead. "Who are you? What are you doing her? Show yourself!" She shouted

Just then the man's face came into a clear view so Dessy could recognize him, and dropped her flashlight when she finally saw who it was.

"I should ask the same of you." replied the stern Mr. Foster.

"Oh, Mr. Foster! I didn't recognize you there." Dessy stammered off guard. "I was just checking to see and I-I."

"You what?" he spat.

Dessy's stared cold at him. Damn, what was this guy some uptight hard ass. Even though he was her new boss, she didn't have to lavish him with showers of respect and praise like the rest of his brown nosing staff. "Jesus, I heard some music and I thought it was a cell phone. So I followed the noise and found you up here. I'm just trying to do my job!"

"And what part of your job description says you have to snoop around where you're not wanted?"

"Hey, Spangler says when I clean up at night, I should check in case any one is in the building who not supposes to be here. Okay? Not like everyone else in New York is locked away in an opera house after midnight"

"Well now that you can see I'm not some homeless wreck, you can go about your business." He turned his back on her.

"Fine! I was done anyway!" She shouted to his back. She thought of some choice words to call him, but decided it was best to mumble them under her breath to sate her anger.

She went towards the door. "Oh and I know how to set the alarm so don't bother." He retorted.

God, he just had to get the last word in didn't he. Well he picked the wrong person to play that game with. "Good, one less god damn job I have to do around here. Thanks a ton pal!"

As her figures closed around the knob, the music started again. It was so haunting, like a morn full lullaby calling her across a landscape of dreams. Even inspiring her to have these sudden poetic thought, she knew this music must be magic. And she also knew, by the way it played that it must be his music.

"Hey." she called back to him

"What is it now?'

Smiling, she tired to make her voice sound as truly sincere as she felt." By the way, I enjoy your music very much, Maestro." she said, then walked out the door without another word.