Ch. 9: That 1870's Show

Constable Heaurs strutted down the cobblestone street in his normal fashion, pausing to glare at anyone who looked remotely suspicious. Usually, the streets of a dying day in the heart of Paris weren't a particularly safe place, with thugs and other lowlifes abroad in droves. Heaurs knew this fact up and down and believed it was his idea to keep citizens safe. At the current moment, the street he was patrolling was deserted and he began to feel irritated when the sun began to set to cast the road a bloody red hue behind ominous storm clouds. It had been a slow night, and slow nights were not a favorite of his.

When he was about to head home to a presumably cold supper, things began to pick up. A young woman was scurrying as fast as her painfully heavy frock would allow, holding a basket of doomed baguettes above her head for shelter. The first droplets began to fall moments later. Heaurs approached the flustered girl, puffing out his chest in an authorative manner. " Excuse me, Mademoiselle?" he boomed, presuming her status by her bare ring finger. " You'd better get home. Night isn't a kind friend to lovely creatures such as yourself." She nodded dumbly, hurrying in her way after muttering some respective phrase. The constable twirled his nightstick around his chubby index finger, whistling pompously. It was almost comical to see someone who's as in much trouble as miss Daae in public, but he was never one to make rash judgments. He wasn't fond of the de Chagneys himself, for Philippe had been rather impudent of the law before his death five years ago.

As the sun continued to sink behind the horizon, the night grew more boring with each passing moment, so Heaurs pulled out a half-empty carton of cigarettes and lit up. He continued to mull over the lackluster events of the evening when a small hand yanked on his trousers. A small girl with midnight curls and piercing green eyes stared up at him, examining him disappointedly. Heaurs cleared his throat loudly once more.

" Can I help you, darling?" The little girl seemed angered by his namby-pamby tone. " As a matter of fact, yes, you can. Can you tell me where the de Chagney's residence is?" Her question seemed more like an insult than a query. The constable gave her the same look she always received: utter surprise and confusion. He jammed a finger down the street dumbly, struggling for words.

" They live on Elderflower Street, just take a left twice and it's the big red brick manor on the corner. You can't miss it." He didn't bother to dumb it down for her. She seemed pretty sharp anyway.

She nodded primly and muttered halfhearted thanks before scrambling away with the directions in mind. Heaurs chuckled, and then went silently on his way. His shift was nearing a close, and he could only pray nobody tried to cause a fuss on his watch.

As the lamplighter made his stormy way down the street, a figure clad in jet black raced down the street, calling something in Swedish. When the figure caught sight of him, it skidded to a halt, panting for breath. Heaurs crossed his arms and examined the winded man. He wore a mask and black gloves, giving him the echoed appearance of a shadow. The policeman narrowed his bloodshot eyes. He knew there was something familiar about this character.

When the disconcerted man finally managed to regain his breath, he choked out, " Help me, please, I've lost my-" He was abruptly cut off when the constable's nightstick thwacked him in the temple, knocking him out cold. Heaurs let out a triumphant roar, waving his stick like Excalibur. " Yes!" The foolish man couldn't believe it. He had caught the phantom of the opera. Wallowing in his glory, Heaurs took the unconscious Erik by the underarms and dragged him off to the police station. The chief would be so proud.

When Erik finally came to, he was lying facedown in a squalid jail cell. Heaurs was pompously slurping down a frothy draft beer. Erik tried to sit up, but cried out when a shooting pain raced up the back of his skull. Much to his horror, a red stain had pooled where he had lain moments before. He threw himself against the bars, yelling curses too profane to repeat at the lounging policeman. Heaurs continued to sip his beverage, appearing not to hear a word Erik had said. Wiping a trickle of stubborn blood from the nape of his neck, Erik stopped yelling and tried to find words that would perhaps persuade this bastard to set him free.

" Look, I know I'm probably the catch of a career, and you'll probably want grandchildren just to tell them the story, but I have a problem." He struggled to keep the torrential anger out of his voice. " My daughter ran away. She's only five. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her." Heaurs flinched at this statement, spitting out a mouthful of beer. " You have a daughter? Surely you jest."

" I assure you, I tell the truth."

The constable rubbed his temples and sighed melodramatically. This just had to happen on his watch. That's the way it always was, he being the ass of everything.

" You have anyone who could vouch for you? Like a relative or something?" He snorted at " relative". Erik retreated to the back of his cell, lost in possibility. Madame Giry would die before getting him out of prison. He had no relation, apart from Delight. What choice was there? Rot in jail for the next thirty years, or ask an enemy fro help. The latter began to sound like a good idea at the moment.

" Yes, erm, go to Raoul de Chagney. We're old chums."

At the moment, Raoul was lying on his kitchen table, bare chested, half passed out. Russell was snoring loudly beneath the table, curled up in a gigantic ball. Raoul was no longer drunk, but suffering from a pounding hangover. He almost felt like the whole ceiling had collapsed on his head, leaving him visibly scarless.

As he lay there, he continued to think about how his whole world had collapsed at his party. That bitch, Gabriel, had ruined everything. He could have lived in happy naivety for the rest of his life, and never cared. The poor man would have sold his soul for ignorance. Why, oh why?

The doorbell suddenly rang, sending another throbbing sensation through his confused head. " Sophie, answer the door!" Raoul called into the gloom. He fell off the table, remembering that Sophie had left for the week and padded barefoot to the doorway.

" Hello?"

He looked down, eyes widening comically. Delight stared up at him with repulsion, tossing her curls shrewdly. Her pink cheeks were streaked with dirt and tears, and her blue dress was torn in several places. " Hello. You may not remember me, but we have met before. I'm Delight, but don't call me that." Blank stares. " It was about three months ago." A light bulb seemed to flick on in his mind when a look of recognition crossed his visage. " Delli, how are you?" He tried to feign happiness, failing miserably. " I can't complain. May I see Christine, please?" His false contentment evaporated at once. He slammed the door behind him, crouching down so he was eye to eye with the child.

" Listen, she isn't here, and she probably won't be back for a very long time. You should go home. I'm sure your mother misses you." At this, Delli sat down on the stoop and buried her chin in her grimy hands. " I don't have a mother." Raoul made a sympathetic cluck with his tongue. "What about your father? Surely he must care."

" He's being foolish right now. He came home and locked himself in his room. I might not know much, but it doesn't take a fool to see that he loves her."

" Who?"

Delight made a noise like it was the most obvious thing in the world. " Christine."

What little color that was left in his face drained at this simple statement. There was no way, no way…

Before he could respond, a breathless messenger boy came up and tapped Raoul on his bare shoulder.

" Sir, you are wanted at the prison. An old friend requires your presence. An Erik fellow" Raoul stood up like a man in a trance and stuffed a twenty-franc note in the boy's coat. Without a word, he took Delight by the hand and started off toward the prison.

" So, you got anything to eat?" Erik implied sarcastically, fanning himself with his hand. Although it was winter, it was damn hot in the cell. Heaurs banged his nightstick against the bars in response, and Erik in turn broke the nightstick. The policeman roared in fury, spraying bits of cheese danish all over the place.

" I'll take that as a no."

Another policeman then walked in shyly. " Um, Monsieur de Chagney is here." Heaurs quickly stuffed the remainder of his dinner into his mouth and motioned wildly for them to come in. Erik sat straight up and made himself look as innocent as possible. Raoul stalked through the door, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Erik. Definitely not a good omen.

Erik started off explaining himself in some kind of gibberish, but Raoul put up his hand to silence him.

" We'll talk bail as soon as we talk about this." At the end of the statement, Delight walked slowly from behind staring at the floor ashamedly.

" Oh god."