"So how exactly do you intend to find Ella?" Antoinette asked. The two watched as a handful of police officers interviewed various staff members. "No one saw her after she left with Meg." She gestured towards the officers. "Even they aren't coming up with anything useful. Everyone is just accusing the Phantom, just like whenever anything else goes wrong."
"Have you noticed that there's one person other that has disappeared as well?" Erik snapped. "Has anyone seen that boy? Ella rejected him. Desperate men will do desperate things." He sighed. "I speak from experience."
"Dubois was called away for business," she replied. "He should be on his way to England by now. He left for the coast the day before yesterday, so he was gone before Ella went missing."
"Find out the last place Meg was with Ella then," Erik told her. "I'll try to retrace her steps, and see if I can come up with anything. Maybe somebody saw something." Antoinette nodded and left to go find her daughter.
Antoinette returned a while later. "She's hysterical. But eventually I got her to say that they separated at a café called Le Figaro. It's just a few blocks away. Meg said she left to run a quick errand and Ella was going to head back. She arrived and Ella hadn't returned."
Erik nodded. "I'll start there then. Thank you for your help. Hopefully I'll see you soon, and I'll have Ella with me."
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jacqueline with one of the police officers. "You know, I'm not too convinced she didn't just run away. I mean her fiancé hasn't been seen either."
"What do you mean?" the officer asked. Erik snuck closer to see what this girl had up her sleeve.
"Well I don't mean to accuse anyone of anything, but I saw them rather 'comfortable' together the other night, if you catch my meaning. Then they were talking about running away to Italy. I didn't think she'd actually go through with it."
He raised his eyebrow. Jacqueline's story didn't match up with anything. If Archer was in England, then how could he be going to Italy? And of course, Ella had refused to elope with him. Either Jacqueline was making up the story for attention, or she knew something no one else did, but he was going to find out which.
When she finally separated from the rest of the group, Erik made his move. He grabbed her arm and pinned her against the wall, his forearm pressed against her throat. Her eyes tripled in size and she moved to scream, but he pushed on her neck to cut off her air supply. "What happened to Ella?" he hissed.
She clawed at his arm, unable to speak. Reluctantly he loosened the pressure enough for her to talk. "I…I don't know," she gasped. "She was just gone."
"Then why are you telling everyone that she ran away with that boy?"
"Because they were going to elope with him, they were going to get married."
Erik rolled his eyes. "Nice try, but she backed out, and he's in England. You're the one with the grudge against her. You're the one who sprained her ankle. You're the one making up the stories. Now don't make me ask again. What happened to Ella?"
"I don't know," Jacqueline wheezed. "Archer heard you in her dressing room and he got upset. He'd be the first place I'd check."
Erik threw her aside, completely furious. This girl was useless. "If I have to come back here, I swear to God, I'll kill you!"
"Madame Giry!" Jacqueline cried. She had decided that the lead wasn't worth losing her life over. She needed to come up with a story and fast. "Madame Giry you have to help me!"
"What is it?" the ballet mistress asked.
"The Phantom! He attacked me!"
She stared at Jacqueline in surprise. "What?! What happened?"
"He thinks that I know where Ella is! He's obsessed with her just like Christine! Madame Giry, he might have kidnapped her and that he killed Monsieur Dubois!"
"Slow down," Madame Giry said. "Start from the beginning, tell me everything, and make sure it's the truth."
"Not long after she got here, I noticed Ella was sneaking around, just like Christine used to. I followed her the other day, and found out she was taking lessons from the Phantom. I got scared and thought she was in danger, so I told Monsieur Dubois, thinking he could help her. He said he would take her away to Italy in a few days. But now they're both missing! I think the Phantom killed him and took Ella captive!" For added effect she buried her face in her hands and began to sob. "And now the Phantom is threatening me because I know too much! He said he'd kill me!"
"Rule number one of committing a crime mademoiselle, is always keep your story straight." Jacqueline whirled around in horror, and saw him standing there. His eyes had flames of fury dancing in them, yet his voice was eerily calm.
"I…I…I…" she stammered when she saw the Punjab lasso in his hands. Madame Giry's eyes widened as he approached them, and she looked like she was going to speak, but the Phantom just dangled the noose in front of them.
"Where is Ella?" he demanded.
Jacqueline shook her head frantically. "I don't know! I swear!"
Suddenly, as fast as lightning, the rope was around her neck, tight enough to terrify her, but not enough to kill her. Yet. Madame Giry tried to grab his arm, but he shoved her aside. "She obviously doesn't know anything!" the ballet mistress shouted.
He ignored her. "Now, mademoiselle, if you are still here when I return, I assure you, you will not live to see another day. Am I clear?" Jacqueline nodded, too scared to speak. "I said, am I clear?"
"Crystal," she squeaked. He pulled the lasso from her neck and disappeared out the door.
She exchanged glances with the astonished ballet mistress. "I think you better hurry before he comes back," Madame Giry finally said.
As darkness fell, Erik pulled up the hood of his cloak and nudged his black horse, Cesar, forward through the streets of Paris. Several moments later, he was outside the café Antoinette told him about. La Figaro, a faded sign said. It was a quaint little place, and he knew many of the opera staff and patrons frequented the place, which is why it was odd that Ella disappeared from here.
"I'm sorry Monsieur but we're closed," a voice said when he walked in. A man who appeared to be the owner was cleaning a nearby table.
"I'm not interested in food," he replied. "Last night there were two girls here. Do you remember?"
"You're going to have to be more specific Monsieur."
"Dancers from the Populaire. A blonde and a redhead. About eighteen years old."
"Perhaps," the man replied. "But a lot of the staff from the Populaire come here. I can't be sure I know which girls you're talking about."
Erik growled in frustration. "It would have been just the two of them. They came in early, probably before the dinner rush started. When they finished the blonde would have left first and then the redhead."
In an attempt to extract some useful information, Erik laid a few francs on the table in front of him. "Yes, I believe I remember them. Only reason I even paid any attention to them is because my wife mentioned that one of them was supposedly the new Prima Donna. Couldn't tell you which at this point."
"Anything unusual or suspicious happen while they were here?"
The man thought for a moment. "Not that I can recall. Why? Are they in some kind of trouble?"
"One of them might be," Erik answered vaguely. "I'm attempting to piece together what happened last night."
"You a cop?"
He tossed a few more francs on the table. "I was never here," Erik answered before making his way to the door. So much for finding any clues here.
"Monsieur," the owner called. "You could try Pierre."
Erik abruptly turned back around. "And who might that be?"
"Little more than a thug. No one knows if Pierre is even his name, but he'll do anything for the right price. I saw him hanging around about the same time those girls were here, and he left right after the redhead."
His heart panged. If his angel was with that brute, then there would be hell to pay. Erik would tear him limb from limb for touching her. "How do I find this Pierre?"
"Ask the street urchins. Eventually you'll find one who knows where he is. He's not exactly quiet, and they always seem to know where he is. They're afraid to cross him you know."
"Merci," Erik said with a nod before disappearing into the dark to continue his search for Ella.
Hours later, he still hadn't found his target. Directions from a group of shady street rats had led Erik was in a rough neighborhood. Every sense was on overdrive so no one could sneak up on him. If this turned out to be nothing more than a wild goose chase, he was going to be very displeased.
A feminine scream pierced the night. Even though he could tell it wasn't Ella, Erik raced towards the source. A dingy man had a ragged woman pinned against the wall. "Leave me alone Pierre!" she cried.
Without thinking, Erik pulled him away from the girl, who instantly took off running. "So you're the famous Pierre," he growled, wrapping his hands around the thug's throat.
"Who are you?" the man demanded.
"Last night you were hanging around La Figaro café. That's awfully far away from here and much too classy for you. Why were you there?"
"It was a job, nothing more."
Erik's fingers tightened. "What job was that?"
"Nothing! It was a simple snatch and grab. Some pompous brat wanted a girl. Paid me five hundred francs, just to get some ballet girl at the Opera Populaire."
"Who did?" Erik pressed. "Who paid you?"
"His…his name was Dubois!"
Erik turned on his heel, leaving the body of what used to be Pierre behind. He swung up onto Cesar and urged him back to the Populaire. Archer wasn't in England, but if he was smart, then he wouldn't be in Paris either. He had to find out where that patron would take Ella. "Don't worry mon Ange," Erik murmured. "I won't stop searching until I find you."