Chapter Seven: I Meet the Management and Get a Mission From Sherlock Holmes
"You've got to be kidding me," I said when I was back in the hotel room. I had just put on one of the dresses that Watson bought me. "I have to wear this?"
"Yes," Watson said with a smile. "It is made of the best material. In fact my Mary has a similar dress."
"Your Mary also isn't use to Ralph Lauren or Tommy Hilfiger or French Connection. Damn, this is so itchy! I don't see why I just can't wear my jeans!"
"Because it is not proper for a lady to wear trousers. I told you that already," Watson said his supply of patience was certainly rapidly depleting. "You simply cannot go about Paris wearing men's clothing."
"But 'trousers' are not made exclusively for men!"
"I don't suppose you listened to the difficult time I had explaining to the woman at the dress shop the reason you and your friend were dressed in men's clothing?"
"No, I didn't listen, mostly because I didn't care. It was none of her business why Becky and I were dressed in jeans."
Watson glared at me. "You must realize that this is not twenty-first century America! You cannot go around dressed like men and that is final."
"Damn Victorian propriety!" I turned to the great detective who remained silent throughout the slight altercation between me and Watson. "Mr. Holmes, do I really have to wear this?"
"If you want to accompany me, as you so adamantly said you did, yes," was his curt reply.
"When you put it that way, I guess I have no choice," I said, my voice filled with resignation. "You coming Becky?"
My best friend shook her head. "You guys go ahead. I'm kinda tired so I think I'll just crash here."
"Then I'll stay with you Mademoiselle. I don't want to leave you alone," Watson said quietly.
"Suit yourselves," I said. I turned to the detective. "You ready?"
As a way of answering, Holmes opened the door and stepped aside, allowing me to exit.
Once we were on the street, I tried to draw Holmes into conversation. "Where are we off to?"
"The Paris Opera House," he replied curtly.
He hailed a cab and helped me into it. He then gave the cabbie the address and soon we were on our way to the Palais Garnier.
Once we were in the cab, I turned to Sherlock Holmes.
"Mr. Holmes?"
"Hmm?"
"I just, well…I kinda wanted to apologize," I said, stammering slightly. Apologizing was never easy for me, and having to apologize to an egotistic person was very difficult.
He looked at me curiously, and I took his glance as a sign to continue.
"Look, I'm gonna be square with you. I know that I acted really arrogant back there, first by showing you up and then by demanding that you take me with you. But I swear that arrogant attitude is not me. It was just there out of fear. I'd really appreciate it if we could…oh I don't know, start over?"
"Start over? I don't understand what you mean?"
I sighed and silently cursed the twenty first century for allowing such bad English and such weird terminology. "I mean I'd like us to forget about what happened and…well act like we just met for the first time. You could perhaps give me a chance before snapping at me and I could respect you more. What do you say?"
He was silent for several minutes, contemplating my request. Then, much to my surprise he looked up at me and smiled charmingly.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Sherlock Holmes."
"Bonjour, Monsieur Holmes. Je m'appelle Mackenzie Sterling. Je parle anglais, et vous?"
"I speak English also," he replied.
"Very cool."
I smiled when I realized he was totally open to the idea and even embraced it so far as to introduce himself in French.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "I really appreciate it."
"Mademoiselle, I really don't know what you are talking about. We just met."
I laughed. Perhaps I misjudged Sherlock Holmes.
We continued our conversation and Holmes asked me many questions about the twenty first century. I tried to answer his questions to the best of my ability. In no time, we arrived outside the magnificent building.
When we alighted from the cab, my breath caught in my throat. Never in my life did I see a piece of architecture so amazing.
"Mackenzie!"
"Yeah Mr. Holmes?"
"Come along," he said walking into the magnificent building.
I followed him like a little lost puppy. When I stepped into the main foyer, tears instantly welled up in my eyes. I was completely overwhelmed by the majesty and beauty of it. Everything was done-up in gold. Two angels greeted you from atop the grand staircase, serving as guardians protecting the kingdom of music.
"Garnier was certainly some architect," I said to no one in particular.
"I didn't think you would know about this building."
"There are a lot of things I know that would shock you," I said with a sly smile.
Just as he was about to question me as to the meaning of my words, a tall portly man with thinning grey hair and glasses came running towards us.
"Monsieur Holmes!" The man said attempting to catch his breath. "Monsieur Holmes, I was just going to leave for your hotel. Something horrible has happened!"
"Monsieur Richard, my associate Mackenzie," Holmes said calmly.
The manager of the opera glanced at me but made no comment. He instantly returned his attention to the detective. "Monsieur Holmes, you must do something."
"Monsieur Richard, pray calm yourself," the detective said gently yet forcefully. "Perhaps we can go to your office where you can tell us what has happened."
The manager nodded. "Follow me," he said walking past the grand staircase and down hall where he seemed to materialize from.
Holmes and I followed him silently. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, I found myself in a sparsely decorated room that's focal point was a large mahogany desk which was inundated with papers.
"Sit down please," the manager said, indicating two worn chairs opposite the desk.
Once Holmes and I were seated, Monsieur Richard began pacing the room in uncontrollable agitation.
"Honestly Mr. Holmes something must be done. If incidents like this continue, Moncharmin and I will be ruined!"
"I beg you to remember Monsieur Richard that I know nothing of what transpired. I suggest that you sit down and tell me of your problem in a logical manner. I can do nothing without the facts laid before me."
Monsieur Richard took several deep breaths in attempt to calm himself. "Last night," Richard said, anger dripping from every word, "my partner and I sold Box Five. This morning, on my desk was a report from Inspector Perrier."
"Do you have the report?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity, when the question which I formulated in English, exited my mouth in French.
"Of course I have the damned report!" Richard said snatching it from his desk in one of his pudgy hands. "According to Inspector Perrier, the occupants of the box created quite a ruckus. He was forced to turn them out twice."
"Why?" I asked, once again in French. As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly regretted I did not hold my tongue.
"You ask why? I'll tell you. I'll satisfy your damned curiosity! According to that incompetent man, the occupants of the box began laughing and making obscene comments throughout the entire performance, completely upsetting the house! Many of my patrons are already demanding refunds!"
"Pray calm yourself Monsieur Richard," Holmes said quietly.
"Calm myself!" Richard said. His face was beginning to grow red. "I cannot calm myself Monsieur Holmes! To make matters worse, those people blamed their appalling behavior on the ghost! If these practical jokes continue, Moncharmin and I will be ruined!"
Ignoring the manager's outburst, Holmes looked at him. "May I speak with Inspector Perrier? I would like to hear his version of what happened."
Attempting to control his anger, Richard smiled tightly. "Rémy!" He shouted.
A second later, a tall, thin man with thinning reddish hair and gold pince-nez entered the office. "Yes Monsieur Richard?"
"Get Perrier in here at once."
The man nodded and left the office.
"My secretary Monsieur Rémy," Richard said as way of explanation.
I nodded and sat quietly until we were joined by a short man with brown eyes that nervously looked around the room.
"You wanted to see me Monsieur Richard?" The man asked.
"It was I who sent for you," Holmes said in perfect French. "My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my associate Mackenzie. You must be Inspector Perrier."
"Oui Monsieur," the man said staring wide-eyed at Sherlock Holmes.
"I want you to tell me what transpired last night in Box Five."
Inspector Perrier glanced nervously at the seething opera manager. "Well," he began, apprehensively shifting his weight from foot to foot, "at first, when I heard the complaints about the couple, I thought they had just come from dinner and had a bit too much to drink."
"You changed your opinion of them?" The consulting detective asked.
"Yes Monsieur," the inspector replied earnestly. "After what they told the box keeper, Madame Giry, I thought they were quite daft."
"What did they say?"
"The couple told me that when they entered the box, they heard a voice saying the box was already occupied. Of course I double and tripled checked that box as well as the surrounding boxes. They were all empty save for Box Five, which was being occupied by the said couple."
"Do you have the name and address of the couple?" I asked.
Inspector Perrier glanced at Monsieur Richard.
"The name of those people," the manager said consulting the receipts from last night's performance, "is Bellemonte, Monsieur et Madame Mathieu Bellemonte. They reside at 34 Champs Elysees."
I made a mental note of the address and looked around the room for a way of escape. I was growing extremely tired of the venomous glances from Monsieur Richard, every time Holmes or I asked a question, and the nervous actions of Inspector Perrier was enough to drive anyone insane.
"Mr. Holmes?" I said gently tugging at his sleeve.
"What?" He asked hotly.
"I think it is important that these people, the Bellemontes, are questioned. Perhaps, while you finish your inquiries here, I can head over to 34 Champs Elysees and speak with them."
"Well," the detective said, weighing my request, "I do not know if I trust a woman, let alone a seventeen year old girl, to speak with witnesses."
"Hey, I thought I proved myself to you in the sitting room!" I said irritably. "Besides how do you know I'll screw up? I might be brilliant and uncover some vital clues, that'll help you. Just give me a chance. Please."
Sherlock Holmes was silent for several moments and I was just about to recite my litany of self worth again when he favored me with an ironical smile. "All right," he said at length. "You can go and speak with them. However, if you offend them in any way…"
"Don't worry sir, I won't! I'll see you later," I said rising from my chair. After nodding a farewell to the manager and the inspector, I fairly sprinted out of the stuffy little office and into the cool Parisian air.
