Chapter Two
It wasn't that Sam needed the money; she was well off for the time being. She just couldn't have people in wealthy society know she refused a case. She could just tell that this was going to be more of a pain that she bargained for. So within twenty four hours she was already on assignment.
Sam fidgeted with her camera underneath her bulky trench. She has wandered around the opera's perimeter for the past half hour. At eleven she planted herself at the main entrance, waiting for her target's late arrival.
It wasn't time yet for the lunch rush but still the street was surprisingly busy. Hoards of people and taxi shuffled in and out of the surrounding building and blocks. However in the sea of yellow cabs, there was one that had particularly caught her attention
It had been parked on the curb for at least a minute, and Sam had noticed some unusual shadows pressed against the glass. She pulled out her camera and used the powerful zoom lens to get a closer look. She saw Piangi getting very familiar with a young lady in the back seat. There where a few moments were he lifted his head from her neck in which Sam could see his trademark mustache and awkward thinning hair line. That verified her suspicions and she immediately started snapping away at the capture button.
She continued as the two kept necking for another minute or so, knowing that they were distracted. He finally pulled away from the girl long enough to pay his fare, before exiting the cab. Sam took a mental notation. She had often seen this behavior in the men she followed. It almost seemed a thrill to have an encounter with their mistress in a cab, letting them be dropped off at another stop a few blocks away. This kept their wives in the dark and allowed for an easy rendezvous with the other women later.
Sam kept taking pictures until Piangi finally turned in her direction and headed up the stairs. She then turned her camera upward and started taking snapshots of the skyline. The advantage of being a PI in New York was that you always had an easy disguise for taking pictures; pretend you're a tourist. She plastered a goofy grin on her face and started speaking in Russian. She had taught herself a few basic phrases in the major languages to help her in her trade. She even turned from the sky and pointed the camera in his face. With a phony smile, sunglasses and a few more choice words in Russian, she had him totally fooled.
It was a very brazen move.
He brushed her off and continued inside.
Sam waited a while before tucking her camera back into her coat and heading inside. Shedding her bulky trench and bent hat, revealed her as a totally different person. She had decided to wear one of her favorite suits, her "lucky suit" as she called it. It was a classic gray pinstripe with a wide leg trouser. She had also acquired the same fabric from the suit's designer label and had a tailor make her a matching vest. A patch of her light pink blouse poking from underneath her collars and her black pumps gave her a touch of feminine flare.
The click of her heels echoed on the marble floors as she blended in perfectly into the opera's world. Following the sounds of voices, she made her way to the auditorium. Her appearance caused the door man to let her pass without question.
The sound of her shoes were muffled by the rich carpet spanning the aisle way. The great hall was decorated with soft peach walls with delicate art nouveau designs crawling up the sides and edges like spider webs. The lush colors of chocolate brown and gold in the upholstery contrasted with the thick dark color of the carpet and floors.
On the stage most of the performers were dressed in causal clothes, and the orchestra was dressed even plainer. All except Carlotta who wore a gauzy blouse and mid length skirt that you would expect to find on the junior's rack at Bloomingdale's.
There were also two other men in dress clothes that caught her attention. She could only assume these two were the managers. Sam fingered the business cards in her pocket as she approached them. As she got closer, Carlotta looked up from her music and starred straight at her. Piagni who was next to her, followed her gaze in turn.
"Idiot…" Sam muttered under her breath and she lowered her head and walked quicker. Once she reached the two men she turned on her heels sharply to address them. "Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Sam Cunningham and I believe Ms. Giudicelli. spoke to you about our arrangement yesterday." She explained.
One of the men, the short of the two with a close shaven head looked at her confused. The other, a man at least a foot taller than his companion with graying hair and his jacket draped over his shoulder, simply rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed by his partner's confusion. However, Sam quickly pulled out one of her cards handing it to him.
The shorter man's eyes lit up and his private realization was greeted by a sigh from his partner. "Oh yes, Ms. Cunningham. Yes we were expecting you and uh…thank you for your promptness." He stumbled over his words.
"Think nothing of it Mister…" Sam inquired.
"Mr. Richard, the managing director." The taller man cut it. "And this is Mr. McClure, our artistic director. We should conduct this sort of business else where. Would you follow me to our office?"
"Please, lead the way." Sam agreed wanting to leave the room as quickly as possible, for she could hear Carlotta and her husband chattering behind her as he questioned Sam's identity. Following swiftly on Richard's heels out of the auditorium, she made her way back down the intricate maze of hallways that made up the opera. They passed through the administration part of the building, crossing rows of uniformed gray desks and cubicles. Even at their quick pace, McClure still had time to offer a polite "hello" to his employees as he walked by. There were no windows in the office, Sam noted. How depressing.
They came towards the end of the room, where a large set of doors engulfed the entire wall. Richard took a key from his pocket and opened the doors.
Steeping over the threshold, she was greeted by the warm sunlight pouring through the windows that the previous room had been void of. The grand space was decorated in the classic shades of hunter green and mahogany, and littered with antique and eclectic décor. Two identical secretary desks flanked the largest windows and were bursting with book. Sam gathered they were mostly for show. In fact, the whole room seemed one big decoration. Did any one do any actual work in this room?
"Please have a seat Miss Cunningham." McClure offered, pulling out a large high back chair for her convenience. Sam took a seat and McClure took the chair next to her. Richard took the more official position behind a large ornate desk.
"Well, I have to start off by saying that I hope my work here doesn't interfere with your operation. Ms. Giudicelli tells me you are opening a show next week. First one of the season if I'm correct." Sam offered.
"Yes, tech rehearsal week can be a stressful time for any company." Richard commented off-hand.
"Well then I'll try to stay out of your way as much as possible."
McClure leaned in closer to her. "Miss Cunningham, I know the answer is no, but I have to ask. What exactly is your business with La Carlotta?"
Sam sighed. "I'm sorry sir, but my dealings with the client in question are very personal and of course confidential. However I can tell you it is not an internal investigation into the opera management." She added.
McClure let out a hearty laugh and bent his face down. Sam was so assumed by her own cleverness that she allowed herself a chuckle on her behalf and even the stern faced Richard let a smile crack over his thin lips.
Richard reached into the desk and pulled out a large manila envelope. "Well we have all the items that Ms. Giudicelli asked us to acquire for you; a key card for access to the opera and any time, used responsibly of course."
Sam nodded "Of course." She reached over the desk to take the envelope but Richard hesitated.
"However I must ask if you would be willing to do a favor for us in exchange." He added.
"I don't do favors." Sam shot back coldly. She felt like slamming her fist down on the desk in frustration. It was bad enough that she knew this client was going to be a headache, but she did want to put up with anything else. She pulled back into her chair and took a deep breath. "That seems a bit hostile Mr. Richard, and I'm not fond of people who purposely interfere with my work."
McClure obvious senses her discomfort. "Oh wait, you don't understand. It's not really a favor…" he shot an annoyed glace at his partner. "But actually a job."
"What sort of job?" Sam asked, knowing that they had obviously found out her profession, no doubt from Carlotta's big mouth.
Richard once again went for his desk and pulled out a stack of paper. He held them tight is his hands and leaned over to set them in front of her.
"So what are these?" Sam asked annoyed.
"We were hoping you could tell us. About three years ago, out first season as co-mangers to be exact, we started to become the victims of several nuisances. Things went missing; little things at first but then more expensive items like costumes and antique props. Then equipment was been tampered with and we received strange reports from the housekeepers. We thought it was just some 'bad blood' from some of the company members upset about the management switching hands. Then security informed us they had been seeing someone in the building late at night, but were unable to track or catch them. The dancers and chorus girls started to complain about someone lurking around the dressing rooms and then the letters started."
"So what, you're chasing a 'ghost' around?" Sam joked.
"Precisely, in fact this person calls themselves the Opera Ghost" McClure chimed in, his eyes focused on the stack of letters as if they were a basket full of cobras.
Sam let out a laugh under breath. "The Opera Ghost? How original." She commented sarcastically.
"Yeah, we thought it was a joke at first. There were requests for us to pay the ghost a monthly salary of 10,000 dollars and demanding his own private box." McClure continued tensely.
"And you ignored it?" Sam asked.
"Of course we did!" McClure assured her and then he lowered his eyes to the floor. "Regrettably." he added in a hollow tone.
"Do you care to elaborate on that Mr. McClure?" Sam pried.
"The ghost managed to do some fancy bookkeeping. The money he demanded suddenly turned up missing. We fired almost half our accounting and payroll staff because we thought they had been taking it." Richard explained
"Poor folks." McClure commented sadly. "Our mistake has probably cost most of their reputations"
"Even after all that, we still kept coming up short every month. So he got his money, most of it anyway. After that we had several season subscribers complain about odd noises coming from their 'haunted box'. It became impossible to sell. So he got his private box too." Continued Richard.
"Forgive me for being blunt sirs, but you don't have a ghost. You have a thief!" Sam pointed out.
Richard furrowed his brows in annoyance. "I'm aware of that and I don't believe in ghosts! But I'm telling you I have cameras all over this building and still these events keep occurring."
"Also the requests turned into threats." McClure added. He reached slowly across the desk, picked up a letter and unfolded it slowly before handing it to her.
Sam ran her fingers around the crisp edges. The paper was of a heavier weight, probably pricing if she had a guess. The author had chosen it for this specific purpose. The ink was a very dark red and in a labored handwriting. The letters seemed to run together and if the author had been in hurry. Sam scrolled over the first letter.
Dear Mr. Managers
I must again insist that you do not sell my private box. I was most displeased to find it occupied during last night performance. Do not consider my threat an idle one. If you wish me to leave your company and performers in peace you will give me back my private box.
Your obedient servant
O.G.
Sam raised her left eyebrow and glanced over the paper at the managers who were watching her intently. She picked up another letter and read it.
Dear Mr. Managers
For the following evenings performance of you will have Miss Daae play the role of Fidelio. Never mine about Carlotta, she will be ill
Your obedient servant
O.G.
"These do not seem so earth shattering, sir." Sam noted and picked up a third note.
Your night watchmen should be more careful when wandering around the cellars. They could end up losing their heads.
Consider this a fair warning.
O.G.
Sam let the letter rest face up on the desk.
"See what I mean." Richard commented. "After that, most of my night security staff walked off the job."
"Yes…well forgive me for not taking you seriously gentlemen, but isn't this a matter for the police?"
"We need more proof. We just can't go to the police about this without any hard evidence. We'd look like fools!" he explained.
"So we needed someone to investigate the matter. Someone besides the law." McClure added.
Sam lowered her lids so they couldn't see her roll her eyes. "Someone like me."
"Exactly." Richard pointed out.
"This isn't really the sort of case I take on. I mean, gentlemen you could have a murder on your hands." She pressed a hand down the opened letters. "Possibly one involving my client. If you believe this person would be willing to kill just so he can enjoy the opera to his perfectionist taste, then you need to take this to the police. There could be serious consequences if these incidents were not reported earlier, especially if these threats became real."
"So wanting to protect the welfare of your client, you might reconsider our offer." Richard informed her.
"Have you listened to anything I've been saying?" Sam snapped. "This seems rather close to extortion. You won't give me the items I need to serve my client unless I take your job offer and in turn, start an investigation on your behalf. I'm obviously at a stalemate."
"We're not trying to be deceitful. We will give you the items you need." McClure assured her, wrestling the envelope aware from Richard "On the contrary, any evidence you might collect during your investigation could in turn help our security matters and protect our staff."
Sam turned to gaze out the window, annoyed at the situation. She wasn't really sure what good she would be on a case like this. She hadn't done anything like this, and she wasn't sure if anyone had done a case like this. It seemed ridiculous.
But on the other hand, money was money. She would be at the opera anyway following Piagni; why not kill two birds with one stone?
Richard produced a small folder and passed it to her. "Tell you what Miss Cunningham; I'd like to invite you to be our guest for our next gala performance. I'll reserve you a seat."
"Oh that not really necessary…"
"I insist. I have arranged a special seat, in box five. The ghost's box. Perhaps it could convince you to take up our cause. If not, you are free to go about your prearranged business here."
Sam gave him a skeptical glance. "Either way it should be interesting."
A/N: Thanks to my first reviewer. I'm glad you enjoyed my dry sense of humor