The Questionable Affair of the Clarinet
A/N: Is M. Reyer a likable character? I've never seen the musical.
Monsieur Reyer finished locking up the instrument storage room and turned
to leave, but someone was blocking his path.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded with annoyance, "There's no reason for
you to be, you can't possibly hope to actually accomplish anything, I- What are
you doing with that? Come now give it here." They snatched it from his grasp;
Reyer shot them a look. "Give it to me! What, you're going to steal it? Is that it?
Honestly, it's not like you can't buy your own, hell I'll give you lessons if you
like! Now give it to me!" they shook their head raising their free hand in warning.
"I don't need lessons, I can play just fine." A gruff voice said hoisting the
clarinet high in the air. Reyer's mouth opened in question but he was given no
opportunity to ask before the instrument was filling his mouth, his throat, tearing at
his insides. A strangled noise gurgled from him as he sunk to the floor.
"Never did like clarinets." They jested to themselves jogging down the
hallway soon filling it with the echo of their satanical laughter.
The sickening smothered and garroted body of the music director was discovered
the next day by a scene shifter who promptly lost his lunch. Nadir saw the
disgusting remains of the psychopath's twisted fun and prayed to Allah that Erik
had found out who the killer was.
He saw Christine standing in box five as he crossed the stage to find the
police who were gathering evidence. The opera had two ghosts now the Phantom
and the Phantomess… She disappeared through the curtains evidently looking for
Erik.
Christine slipped into one of the infinite secret passages of the opera, she
hated to be out without Erik, she didn't know this place well enough to be at ease
alone in it's black corridors. It had been necessary seeing as how she had gone in
search of him.
Her quest had been successful because he was pacing this very passage
muttering to himself. She watched him for a moment in the halflight, wandering
what vexed him so. He rubbed his forehead in frustration; he seemed to be in some
sort of inner turmoil.
"Erik?" she asked timidly. He must have known she was there because he
was not at all surprised. He stopped pacing suddenly and turned to Christine,
laying a hand on her cheek he asked her quietly,
"Do you still value Raoul as your brother?" she searched his eyes for an
explanation but, finding none replied,
"Yes of course I do. He is my dearest friend, he's all I have left from the
times when…"
"You have to let go Christine, you cannot shield yourself forever. Raoul
isn't a child any longer and neither are you. Holding on to him will not bring your
father back." She nodded, closing her eyes on the tears that threatened to fall. One
escaped down her cheek and he caught it on his thumb.
"Why are you asking me this?" he sighed, looking away.
"I need to."
"I don't understand." He looked down,
"You do not need to understand, you need to remember, Raoul may not be
who he used to be."
"What do you mean?"
"You will understand Christine, have patience and all shall reveal itself in
due course."
"But-"
"Shh." He held a silencing finger to her lips, "I can see you're not prepared
for what is coming. Sometimes it is better not to know, trust in that." Christine
succumbed her curiosity much aroused. "Good, you agree, if not now you will
comprehend in time."
"Erik?" he regarded her questioningly, "I'm frightened."
"Frightened? Whatever for?"
"What if this murderer…?"
"I don't think you should have any fear of that my dear."
"I know, but suppose I'm alone."
"Then I shan't ever leave you alone."
* * *
Nadir had spoken to Inspector de Gent again; the man was so painfully easy
to read. Subtly was completely lost on him. The interview had been fruitless for
both participants, par expectations. Nadir probably knew more about the case then
that daft policeman; he had certainly learned more about garroting then he ever
wished to know. The silly ballet girls were extremely shaken up; they had been
rendered completely speechless for the first time in the history of the opera
populaire; Nadir was starting to like this killer.
Whomever it was, the police said, was of slight build and average height.
Nadir was curious as to how they had arrived at the aforementioned conclusions
but kept his questions and opinions to himself.
So the police were not totally incompetent, they were still a pack of fools.
They had trodden all over the 'lieu du crime' before a single detective or anyone
else with a brain came to check for clues. Some of the most crucial pieces of
evidence are the attitude of the body and other objects in the room. He hadn't
needed to solve a lot of mysteries in Persia but he still knew how to go about it! It
was an insult to law enforcement everywhere to call this sham an investigation!
A/N: Is M. Reyer a likable character? I've never seen the musical.
Monsieur Reyer finished locking up the instrument storage room and turned
to leave, but someone was blocking his path.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded with annoyance, "There's no reason for
you to be, you can't possibly hope to actually accomplish anything, I- What are
you doing with that? Come now give it here." They snatched it from his grasp;
Reyer shot them a look. "Give it to me! What, you're going to steal it? Is that it?
Honestly, it's not like you can't buy your own, hell I'll give you lessons if you
like! Now give it to me!" they shook their head raising their free hand in warning.
"I don't need lessons, I can play just fine." A gruff voice said hoisting the
clarinet high in the air. Reyer's mouth opened in question but he was given no
opportunity to ask before the instrument was filling his mouth, his throat, tearing at
his insides. A strangled noise gurgled from him as he sunk to the floor.
"Never did like clarinets." They jested to themselves jogging down the
hallway soon filling it with the echo of their satanical laughter.
The sickening smothered and garroted body of the music director was discovered
the next day by a scene shifter who promptly lost his lunch. Nadir saw the
disgusting remains of the psychopath's twisted fun and prayed to Allah that Erik
had found out who the killer was.
He saw Christine standing in box five as he crossed the stage to find the
police who were gathering evidence. The opera had two ghosts now the Phantom
and the Phantomess… She disappeared through the curtains evidently looking for
Erik.
Christine slipped into one of the infinite secret passages of the opera, she
hated to be out without Erik, she didn't know this place well enough to be at ease
alone in it's black corridors. It had been necessary seeing as how she had gone in
search of him.
Her quest had been successful because he was pacing this very passage
muttering to himself. She watched him for a moment in the halflight, wandering
what vexed him so. He rubbed his forehead in frustration; he seemed to be in some
sort of inner turmoil.
"Erik?" she asked timidly. He must have known she was there because he
was not at all surprised. He stopped pacing suddenly and turned to Christine,
laying a hand on her cheek he asked her quietly,
"Do you still value Raoul as your brother?" she searched his eyes for an
explanation but, finding none replied,
"Yes of course I do. He is my dearest friend, he's all I have left from the
times when…"
"You have to let go Christine, you cannot shield yourself forever. Raoul
isn't a child any longer and neither are you. Holding on to him will not bring your
father back." She nodded, closing her eyes on the tears that threatened to fall. One
escaped down her cheek and he caught it on his thumb.
"Why are you asking me this?" he sighed, looking away.
"I need to."
"I don't understand." He looked down,
"You do not need to understand, you need to remember, Raoul may not be
who he used to be."
"What do you mean?"
"You will understand Christine, have patience and all shall reveal itself in
due course."
"But-"
"Shh." He held a silencing finger to her lips, "I can see you're not prepared
for what is coming. Sometimes it is better not to know, trust in that." Christine
succumbed her curiosity much aroused. "Good, you agree, if not now you will
comprehend in time."
"Erik?" he regarded her questioningly, "I'm frightened."
"Frightened? Whatever for?"
"What if this murderer…?"
"I don't think you should have any fear of that my dear."
"I know, but suppose I'm alone."
"Then I shan't ever leave you alone."
* * *
Nadir had spoken to Inspector de Gent again; the man was so painfully easy
to read. Subtly was completely lost on him. The interview had been fruitless for
both participants, par expectations. Nadir probably knew more about the case then
that daft policeman; he had certainly learned more about garroting then he ever
wished to know. The silly ballet girls were extremely shaken up; they had been
rendered completely speechless for the first time in the history of the opera
populaire; Nadir was starting to like this killer.
Whomever it was, the police said, was of slight build and average height.
Nadir was curious as to how they had arrived at the aforementioned conclusions
but kept his questions and opinions to himself.
So the police were not totally incompetent, they were still a pack of fools.
They had trodden all over the 'lieu du crime' before a single detective or anyone
else with a brain came to check for clues. Some of the most crucial pieces of
evidence are the attitude of the body and other objects in the room. He hadn't
needed to solve a lot of mysteries in Persia but he still knew how to go about it! It
was an insult to law enforcement everywhere to call this sham an investigation!