A/N: I have completely re-written this story from chapter 17 onward. If you have previously read chapters 17-19, you should go back and re-read them because the content has been totally changed and this one won't make any sense to you. So go on, then, go on back and start reading chapter 17. I'll wait right here.
Erik sat in the manager's chair, his long red cloak tossed negligently over one shoulder and his black-booted feet crossed, resting on Choletti's desk. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms as well, smiling a little in anticipation.
Choletti came in and closed the door behind him. Seeing Erik ensconced quite comfortably behind his own desk, his mouth opened and closed in silent outrage a few times before he finally demanded, "WHO are you?"
"No one in particular," Erik replied. "A friend of a friend, you might say. Sit down."
"B—but you're in my chair!" Choletti whined.
"No matter," Erik replied. His voice took on an edge of menace as he indicated one of the guest chairs, one with sturdy arms and a high back. "Sit. Down."
Somehow realizing that his guest was no one to trifle with, Choletti sat down, grumbling.
"Now, then," Erik said, swinging his legs down and rising in one graceful motion. "It has come to my attention that a certain police inspector owes you quite a lot of money… and that you haven't been entirely scrupulous about how you've been collecting it."
Choletti's panicked eyes darted over to his desk; sure enough, the letters he'd left there were gone.
"It has also come to my attention that you gained your present post through, shall we say, rather disreputable means." Erik slowly approached Choletti's chair, step by menacing step. "Tsk, tsk, Choletti. Blackmailing the directeur of l'Academie Nationale?" He circled Choletti's chair, shaking his head. "It's clear that something is going to have to be done about this."
"Now then, Gerard, have you finally decided to tell me what you know about the phantom?" Ledoux asked quietly as the two men wandered down yet another darkened corridor. They got to the small room Ledoux had been using as an office, and went in. Ledoux turned up the lights.
Gerard sat down and took off Erik's black mask. He smiled without mirth. "No. I'm going to tell you what I know about Choletti."
Ledoux, about to sit down at his desk, paused in mid-gesture and looked up sharply. "What about him?" There was an edge of fear in his voice.
For answer, Gerard handed him Choletti's letter to Poligny. "He's a blackmailer. That's how he got this job. I know he's got you in his power too, Ledoux, because of the two hundred thousand francs you owe him. Oh, don't worry," he said, holding up a hand to reassure the detective. "You have my word that this will go no further. But I'm afraid there's more."
"More?"
"Yes. I found out why he debited 100 francs from your last bill."
Ledoux frowned. "Why?"
Gerard looked pained. "I am truly sorry, Henri," he said, giving him Choletti's letter to Clemence.
Ledoux scanned the letter with growing horror, and then went back and read it again. He turned pale. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered. "How could he do this to her?" He buried his face in his hands and wept.
Gerard patted him on the shoulder with a sympathetic hand. He hated himself for having to bear the bad news.
"Clemence, my Clemence—how could she?" Ledoux sobbed, shoulders shaking.
"I am very sorry, Henri; I'm sure she thought she was helping you." Gerard waited until the inspector's heart-wrenching sobs calmed down, and then he said, "There's more I have to tell you, but that was the worst of it."
"Thank God for small favours," Ledoux said sardonically. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and tried to pull himself together. "What other good news do you have for me, Gerard?" He couldn't quite keep the sarcasm from his tone.
"The other thing is that you have a benefactor. Your debt to Choletti is being paid for you, even as we speak: paid in full, and with no obligation for you to repay it. It's all arranged."
Ledoux's jaw dropped. "Wha—who? Who would do such a thing? Do I know him?"
"I know him, and that's all you have to know."
Ledoux knew in an instant that Gerard was talking about the phantom... but he was hardly in a position at that moment to take issue with it.
Gerard went on talking."Now, what my friend and I would like to know is, are you going to arrest Choletti for blackmail and fraud?"
Ledoux sprang to his feet. "Arrest him? Hell, yes, I'll arrest him! I'll arrest him right this minute! Where is he?" He stopped. "Oh, wait—you said there was someone waiting to see him in his office, didn't you?" He almost hoped it had been the phantom there, waiting to "talk" with Choletti.
"I did. If we hurry, maybe we can still catch him there." Gerard put his mask back on.
They went out and walked briskly back to the manager's office. Ledoux pushed the door open gently. There was an infuriated squeak from inside, and he stuck his head in to look. "Ah, M. Choletti," he greeted, opening the door wide and ushering Gerard inside with him. "Glad you're still here; I've been wanting a word with you."
Choletti was bound quite firmly to his chair, and gagged with his own handkerchief. His eyes bugged out of his head, and a vein in his temple was twitching. Hundred-franc notes were stuffed into his pockets and overflowing onto the floor. He twitched and strained against the ropes that held him, while shrill squeaks and yelps issued from behind the gag. Ledoux betrayed no surprise, but some small satisfaction at the sight.
"Ledoux, look at this." Gerard pointed toward the desk where three fresh letters sat drying.
Careful not to smudge the ink, Ledoux picked up the first one. "Received from Henri Ledoux… two hundred thousand francs…" he mumbled his way through it until he reached the end, "Many thanks and best wishes for your continued success… your humble servant, Alain Choletti." He glanced down at the hundred-franc notes littering the floor, and smirked. "I see you got your payment without any trouble."
Wordlessly, Gerard handed him the next letter. Ledoux read it aloud. "To whom it may concern: I, Alain Choletti, being unqualified for the post to which I was raised, now reinstate Gerard Carrière as manager of the Opera. I humbly apologize to M. Poligny and les directeurs for my presumption in demanding the position, and for forcing M. Poligny's hand through blackmail. Your humble servant, Alain Choletti."
Ledoux started to smile. "Poligny as well, Choletti?" he said lightly. "My, you have been a busy man! Never mind, though; you shall have plenty of time to relax in prison."
Gerard handed him the last letter.
"Another one? What's this one say?" Ledoux asked. He read that one aloud as well. "It was through my own negligence that Mm. Robert and LaChaille were killed in the cellars of the opera. I carelessly ordered them below, knowing that it is unsafe for anyone not familiar with the cellars to go down there, and when they were killed I blamed the 'phantom of the opera' instead of having the courage to confess my own fault. I now withdraw any accusation and complaint I made against the man or spectral apparition who may or may not reside in the cellars. Signed, Alain Choletti."
"Ah." Ledoux said briskly to the constrained and livid Choletti. "Lovely. I'll call off my men, then, and get out of your hair—" he stopped and bowed to Gerard. "Forgive me, Carrière, I should have said I'll get out of your hair, and take this criminal to the station… along with the evidence."
He pulled Choletti's handkerchief out of his mouth; Cholettispat it out and glared at him. "It was the phantom!" he bellowed. "He came in here and paid me alla your money, and then tied me up! He forced-a me to write those papers and you know it, Ledoux! I'll-a have your job for this!"
"Not once I tell M. Poligny what you've been doing," Ledoux said calmly. "Gerard, will you give me a hand here? I think it will be best to take him away while he's still tied up." Working together, they untied him from the chair, but used the ropes to re-bind his feet and hands so that he could just barely walk.
Seeing they meant business, Choletti changed his tune in an instant. "Wait, wait! What are you doing? Ledoux… I am sure we can work something out! Old friend!" Choletti begged. "Please!"
Ledoux stopped short. "Friend?" he snarled. "You dare to call me friend? Would a friend have used my wife as a whore?"
"It was-a her idea," Choletti said lamely.
Ledoux growled and pulled him upright. He drew back and smashed his fist into Choletti's face. Just once, but it was enough. Blood began pouring from Choletti's nose, dripping down his face and onto his white shirt. He had to keep his mouth closed to avoid getting it filled with blood as well, and he glared at Ledoux.
"Ah, Henri..?" Gerard interposed. "Shall I go and tell your men to meet you downstairs?"
Ledoux had once again retreated into his urbane Parisian demeanour, fastidiously wiping the blood off his knuckles with his handkerchief. "Yes, if you please, my friend. And if you should happen to see your friend around anywhere, please thank him for me, from the bottom of my heart. Even if it was the phantom; if he stood before me, I would shake his hand this minute!"
"Do you mean that, monsieur?" Erik's voice came wafting out of the walls.
Leroux gazed up at the ceiling and all around—no one was there. He raised his voice and spoke to the walls. "I do indeed, monsieur, if you were the one who paid off Choletti for me."
Erik came out of the shadows and stood before them, arms crossed. "I would be grateful, Inspector," he said quietly, "if you would refrain from any further investigations of my activities. Is that worth two hundred thousand francs to you?"
Leroux straightened up and faced his former enemy. "Monsieur, if you are asking me to let you get away with murder, then much as I appreciate your assistance, I cannot accept your money."
Erik nodded, impressed. "Your principles do you credit, sir, and I would never ask you to act against your conscience. I assure you there have been no murders—and even the accidental deaths could have been avoided if M. Choletti had kept his people out of my domain. Anything below the third cellar is…unsafe for those who do not know their way around. Perhaps M. Carrière will be more careful of the lives and well-being of his employees than M. Choletti has been."
"If M. Choletti has withdrawn his complaint against you, M. le Fantôme, then indeed, I have no charges to press. I thank you for your financial assistance, and for your assurance regarding the 'accidental deaths' here. Will you accept my hand?"
Erik gave him a long, considering look, and then took the two steps forward to grasp Ledoux's hand. They shook like old friends. "Would you, by any chance, like my assistance escorting this prisoner to the exit, so that M. Carrière may go and fetch your men?"
Ledoux considered it. The phantom was still wearing his Red Death outfit; no one would recognize him except for Gerard, who already knew his secret. "Yes, sir, and I thank you."
Choletti gaped. "L-ledoux, he'll kill me!" he quivered.
Erik turned toward him sharply, and Choletti shrank back in fear. Ledoux shoved him, hard, and then stuffed the man's handkerchief back into his mouth. He leaned down and hissed, "I hope youdrown in your own blood!"
Choletti, realizing that his greater danger now came from the inspector rather than the phantom, subsided and went along quietly. Ledoux affected not to notice the phantom quietly helping himself tohis money from Choletti's pockets as they went.
Two of the four policemen that had been there with Ledoux were waiting for him at the main exit, along with Monsieur Poligny, the Director of l'Academie Nationale. Choletti groaned; Ledoux grinned, and Erik calmly shoved Choletti into the waiting police carriage.
He bowed to Ledoux. "Monsieur l'Inspecteur, I wish you bon chance," he said.
"And you, monsieur," Ledoux replied with his own bow. He glanced around. "Should you happen to see my other two men, would you please let them know that the search has ended? Thank you."
"At your service, sir. If you ever need to, you can reach me here; M. Carrière knows how to contact me."
"Thank you, sir. Au revoir." Ledoux nodded to him and turned to speak to Poligny.
Grinning to himself, Erik went back into the opera and headed back up toward the ballroom, skipping every other step and humming to himself. He paused on the landing and checked his watch; it had been a little over an hour. Christine and her boy would probably be finished with their chat and on their way back down by now. He was in a wonderful mood. He ran up the rest of the stairs toward the ballroom.
A/N: As before, any errors in the spacing of this story aren't my fault; FFN sometimes deletes the spaces between the words as it uploads. It's a FFN error, not an author error.
