Who was in Charge?
Firmin stepped into the office and immediately stepped out, knocking a surprised Andre back. The office was a mess. Papers were strewn all over the floor, costumes hung on anything that held them, and the furniture was placed in the oddest way possible. Either Lefevre had no time to clean up or someone was here to look for something. Either way, the office looked like it was raided. Firmin took a careful step back into the office, trying to avoid stepping on anything of value. He and Andre made their way to the desk, which they found devoid of everything. Except a small envelope. Both managers looked at it, seeming to contemplate whether to take it or not. Finally Andre reached out and picked it up. It was addressed to both of them in red inc that looked suspiciously like blood. Firmin glared at it with utter disgust.
"What lunatic would write in blood!" he said more than asked. Andre shrugged and broke the seal. A seal, which Firmin noted, that depicted a skull.
My dear Gentlemen,
Andre read,
I have already sent you a note, asking you to cast Ms. Daae
as Elissa in the production of Hannibal.
I have also assured you that she is good, and you have heard her your self.
Yet you still insist on treating her as a mere
and unworthy girl, expecting Carlotta's return any day now.
I have no doubt that she will, and when she does,
I shall deal with her in a manner I see fit.
Accept Ms, Daae as the new Diva and you will have
considerably less…problems on your hands.
I remain your obedient servant,
O.G.
"How dare he! Once was enough, yet he still keeps up his little joke! I do not find it funny at all!" Firmin roared, referring to Lefevre. "And he writes in blood, for crying out loud!Is therea P.S.?"
"Yes. 'P.S.' its says, 'Do not get me wrong, I have nothing against M. Reyer as he seems to be the only one around this place with a sensible head on his shoulders. Aside, of course, from Mme Giry.'"
"A chorus girl as Prima Dona! This is absurd! Unheard of!" Firmin roared. "This joke has gone too far. This has the smell of Lefevre all over it!"
"I agree." nodded Andre.
"Sensible mind. Bah! The only sensible mind I see around here is mine!"
Andre looked slightly offended.
"And yours." Firmin added irritated. "Do write to Lefevre and tell him his joke is no longer funny."
"On what and with what?" Andre asked, looking around the office for something useful to use.
"Find something! I'll be in another room looking though the accounting books. I daresay they are in as good a mess as this room is. So long."
Andre stood in the office, quite alone. It truly was in a poor state. It was all too overwhelming for him in so short a time. They had just purchased the opera house and it already was slipping from their control. The rumors of the ghost were spreading like wildfire and he himself was beginning to believe them. He looked at the note in his hand and read it again.
…I shall deal with her in a manner I see fit…
What did he mean by that? Was he actually making a threat? His breath caught in his throat. Good Lord! Was he going to kill her? Now now, a voice said in his head, be reasonable Andre. The ghost does not exist.
Still, what was this whole business with Ms. Daae? Someone obviously wanted her advance. The only question was, who? He re-read the note again, hoping to find some evidence, but it provided none aside from two names. And neither person to whom the names belonged seemed to care who was onstage as long as the performance was good. M. Reyer's world seemed to be as big as his orchestra and his piano, and Mme Giry was much too preoccupied with the ballet dancers to worry about who the next Diva was to be. So, who was it?
Andre's thoughts were interrupted by loud shouting from the hallway. The door swung open and Firmin stormed in, kicking his way through and cursing at every step. His face was red with fury.
"He doesn't know, he says! He doesn't know! Send him to hell, maybe then he'll know!" Firmin shouted as he threw a heavy book to the floor. "Have you written to Lefevre?"
"No-"
"Well, get to it!"
Andre left the office, hearing Firmin's cursing all the way from the end of the hallway and beyond the corner.
"Fichue comptabilité! Et qui le diable était responsable de cet endroit maudit! Damnez ce théatre de l'opéra! Fichu Lefevre! Et damnez le fantôme confondu!" There was a loud crash followed by another string of curses.
So, the accounting books were in a mess as well, thought Andre. How this Opera House kept together was anybody's guess. He made a mental note to check the issue himself, he was rather proud of his accounting skills. Yes, he'll make sure to check them out. For now, there are too many other things to do.
Damn accounting! And who the hell was in charge of this place! Damn this Opera House! Damn Lefevre! And damn the confounded ghost!"
Le Fantome de le Parodie:
The sun was shining, the weather was beautiful, and the water was warm. It was a perfect day. M Lefevre stretched out his legs, thoroughly enjoying himself. He chuckled.
"What's so funny, my dear?" his wife asked, casting a concerned glance at her husband. Was he laughing at her new bikini swim suit?
"Oh, I was just thinking about the tow dolts to whom I left the Opera House. I hope they're enjoying themselves and my joke about the Opera Ghost."
"The Opera Ghost?"
"Oh, something I made up to keep them busy." He laughed again. Though this time, it was about his wife's new bikini.
