by Gerald Elias
‘I learned something interesting at that symposium a couple weeks ago,’ Jacobus began. ‘Were you there?’
Jacobus heard a commotion from the mattress.
‘Wait!’ Yumi shouted. Jacobus heard her jump from her chair, knocking it over. What had he said that was so distressing? Was Audrey going to attack him? He put his hands in front of his face to defend himself.
‘I don’t want to hear any more about that fucking symposium!’ Audrey shouted.
‘You don’t understand!’ Yumi said. ‘Believe me. Lucien, tell her to stay.’
Jacobus sat there, not sure what to do next. If he opened his mouth again it could have ended things then and there, so he kept it shut and hoped. Lucien ultimately was able to convince Audrey to hear him out. Jacobus put his hands back down, folding them on his lap.
‘What did you learn?’ she asked.
‘It was something Sybil Baker-Hulme said. I had never known it, and it took me a while to understand its significance. It was an answer to a question from her husband, Aaron Schlossberg, who, of all people, handed it to me on a silver platter.’
Jacobus waited for a response, but there being none other than the buzz of a confused fly trying to find the window opening, continued.
‘Did you know that when Vivaldi conducted his orchestra at the orphanage in Venice, the performers had to play behind a metal grille so that the audience couldn’t see them? That it was considered OK for girls to play music, to be the best orchestra in Venice, but verboten for them to perform in public? These days most people would consider that ridiculous. Going to a concert to hear music but not see the performers. But maybe they had a point.’
‘What point?’ Audrey asked. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that maybe it had less to do with modesty or women’s subservience and more to do with actually protecting the girls. Girls who were just coming into womanhood but weren’t familiar with the ways of the world. Girls who were easy prey to a man of influence or wealth. Girls who—’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Audrey interrupted.
‘Then why did you leave the school?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Because you humiliated me at the masterclass.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did, Jake,’ Yumi said, unexpectedly.
Jacobus was taken aback. He had almost forgotten about that particular confrontation. There had been so many since.
‘Well, maybe I did,’ he conceded. ‘But it was only the result of your change of attitude from the party at Schlossberg’s to the class. It was you who got the wheels rolling. And I think I know why.’
‘You don’t know anything.’
‘Let me give it a whirl and then tell me if I’m wrong. You and Lucien were hired to help out at Schlossberg’s equinox party. When you spoke to me there about the masterclass, you couldn’t wait for it. I was impressed with your enthusiasm. It was you who approached me, an intimidating, blind, old fart. You didn’t have to do that.
‘But then something happened, and I think I know what it was. Later in the evening, I heard two people, who I believe were you and Lucien, talking in the woods. The next day it was reported that quite a few of the partiers had gotten sick from eating bad mushrooms. And it was the same day of the masterclass at which you gave a convincing performance. I believe those two seemingly disparate events are connected.’
‘Convincing performance? I thought you didn’t like the way I played,’ Audrey said.
‘That’s right. You played very poorly, much worse than at the rehearsal the day before, which was the first thing that made me wonder what the hell was going on. I believe you played poorly intentionally. But the performance I’m talking about is your acting performance. There in front of a large group of witnesses you manufactured a pretext to withdraw from the program that no one could argue with; even Yumi, who’s nobody’s sucker.
‘So you dropped out and disappeared at about the same time that Schlossberg dropped dead.’
‘He had diabetes,’ Lucien said.
‘Yes, he did,’ Jacobus said. ‘But that’s not what he died from.’
‘It’s not?’ Audrey asked. She sounded surprised. Was she acting again?
‘No. He died from eating Gyromitra esculenta, and you can’t imagine how hard I practiced pronouncing that.’
‘How do you know that’s how he died?’ Lucien asked.
‘Because our diligent, local medical examiner had him dug up and dissected. That’s how.’
‘Then it was an accident. He picked that shit himself.’
‘Ah! The accident theory! Let me see if I understand this theory correctly. You think this expert on mushrooms – this gourmand who had written extensively about them – would pick just a single, exquisite morel only for himself, not show off and share it with his friends, and get it wrong to boot, fully aware that Gyromitra is among the most poisonous mushrooms in existence? And then, when he was at death’s door, overcome with dizziness and seizures and nausea while his liver and kidneys were failing, instead of taking an ambulance to the emergency room at the hospital, he drove himself to the music building and seated himself at a piano in an unlit and unventilated practice room to work on his opera? Somehow, I’m not drawn to the accident theory. Having learned two important things since then, I think I’ve got a more plausible one.
‘First, I learned that Aaron Schlossberg was a sexual predator.’ He paused to let them acclimate to his awareness of this hidden knowledge.
‘Yes, Schlossberg was a sexual predator, and you, Audrey, were one of his prey. One of his Aaronites. I don’t know for how long, but from what I gather, it was ongoing. Yet, when I spoke to you at the party, a party in Schlossberg’s very own home, your behavior strongly suggested you had learned to put that ordeal in the back of your mind, or at least thought his harassment was a thing of the past.
‘The second thing I learned was that Lucien is a student at the community college, and not only is he taking a course in culinary arts, he’s a devotee of Schlossberg’s books on foraging. In particular, Wild Living.’
‘A lot of people read his books,’ Lucien said.
‘Yes, but you were the one at his party, Lucien. I also learned that Schlossberg cultivated his relationships with his victims by taking them out into the woods on foraging parties. I can imagine how you felt about Schlossberg leading your girlfriend along the garden path. With your knowledge of mushrooms and with Audrey’s help, you harvested a bunch of jack-o’-lanterns, which you knew would get everyone sick as a dog for a day or two. But that was only a diversion from the real deal, which was the Gyromitra for Schlossberg.’
‘No.’
‘You mixed it in with his squirrel stew or other creative concoction and served it to him, making sure that he, and he alone, ate it.’
‘No.’
‘You and Audrey, knowing you had your revenge, then moseyed into the woods and hightailed it out of there. You decided upon a scenario she would fabricate at the masterclass, and she pulled it off to perfection. Almost.’
‘No.’
‘You keep saying no, no, no,’ Jacobus said, with irritation, ‘but I haven’t heard a reason it shouldn’t be yes, yes, yes.’
‘If you’re so sure,’ Audrey asked, ‘why didn’t you go to the police?’
‘Don’t you get it?’ Jacobus asked. It seemed so obvious. ‘I’m on your side!’
‘Why? Why should you be on my side?’
‘I’ll tell you why. When did you start playing the violin?’
‘Five.’
‘Just like me,’ Jacobus said, though he was lying by one year. ‘Kindergarten. While your classmates were playing with alphabet blocks, you were playing the violin. Think about that. Your parents paid thousands of dollars for your lessons and your violin. You busted your ass because you love music and love the violin. How many hours, Audrey? How many movies, how many dances, how many parties did
you not go to with your friends because you had to practice?
‘You’re a talented kid, Audrey, but no genius. You’re no prodigy. And by the way, neither was I, though Yumi might try to convince you otherwise. And you know what? I admire that more than if you were. Because it means dedication and hard work are that much more crucial when it’s not easy. It means you didn’t give up when that would have been an easy way out.
‘So what happens? You audition to the conservatory that hundreds of other talented kids in the country are dying to get into, hoping against hope that you’ll stand up to the competition and get in. And guess what? You’re accepted. You can’t believe it! You’ve made the big jump. Keep at it, and who knows, success may be just around the corner. The dream you’ve had since the time you learned to walk is in sight. Four more years of hard work and you’ll be over the hump. Then what? A career in an orchestra? Make a hundred grand a year and work with the greatest conductors? The greatest artists? Sure, but mainly it’s so you can play beautiful music for the rest of your life. You can almost taste it.
‘At the conservatory, you’re assigned to work with the best teachers! World-renowned teachers! Teachers who will guide you! Teachers in whom you’ve placed your total trust! Your total trust.’
Jacobus’s sigh told of a lifetime of disillusionment.
‘And then you were betrayed. In Aaron Schlossberg’s eyes, you were not a budding artist. You were not even a human being. You were a piece of meat. The hell with all those dreams of yours. He could care less. Schlossberg foraged for students like he foraged for his damned mushrooms. Schlossberg was a bastard and deserved what he got. That’s why I didn’t go to the police. Because if I were in your shoes, I would have killed him, too! I didn’t go to the police because they wouldn’t have been as patient with you as I am being right now. Yumi knows what a patient man I am. Isn’t that right, Yumi?’
‘We’ll talk,’ she said.
‘I just wanted you to know, Audrey,’ Jacobus finished, ‘that I understand you.’
The floorboards creaked, but that was the only sound.
‘Yeah,’ Audrey said, finally. ‘Some of it’s true. But you’re still wrong. We didn’t do anything.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘OK, you’re right that he had sex with me,’ she said. She stopped. Jacobus waited and was inclined to say, ‘Go on,’ but held himself back.
‘He made me feel guilty if I refused,’ she finally continued, ‘because he had gotten me some stuff to play—’
‘Like the Vivaldi?’ Yumi asked.
‘Yeah, and his new piece. But after we did it I always felt disgusted with myself.’
‘When did Lucien find out?’ Yumi asked.
‘Last year. I told him.’
‘He and I got into a fight,’ Lucien added. ‘I hit him.’
‘Did it end then?’ Jacobus asked. ‘Did he break it off?’
‘For a while,’ Audrey answered. ‘But then he started again, like nothing had ever happened.’
‘When was the last time?’
‘The night of the symposium.’ She laughed an unhappy laugh. ‘He was raping me backstage while you and his wife and the others were talking about how important Baroque performance practice was.’
‘That can’t be,’ Jacobus said. ‘He was there in the audience!’
‘He was and he wasn’t,’ Audrey said. To Lucien, she asked, ‘Should I show him?’
Lucien said, ‘I suppose. It’s up to you.’
A moment later she handed Jacobus a piece of paper. It was twisted tight, like a candle wick. Jacobus unraveled it and tried to flatten out the wrinkles on his lap.
‘Let me,’ Yumi said. Jacobus handed it to her.
When she hadn’t said anything for several seconds, he asked, ‘What is it?’
‘Audrey,’ Yumi asked, ‘do you really want me to read this out loud?’
‘Yeah. I do.’
‘On the evening of Wednesday, March 18,’ Yumi read, ‘Aaron Schlossberg, a faculty member of the Kinderhoek Conservatory of Music, pulled me into a utility room behind the stage of the Hiram Feldstein Auditorium of the Dolly Cooney Performance and raped me. The Baroque music symposium was going on onstage.
‘As soon as we were in the room, he locked the door. It was dark. I said, “Please, no.” He was taller than me and heavier, and he pinned me against the wall. I couldn’t move my arms even if I wanted to, but I knew it didn’t matter whether I resisted or not. It was always like that. He pressed his mouth on mine and pried my mouth open with his tongue. He pulled up my blouse, and when he touched me, it was repulsive and my skin turned to goose flesh. He unhooked my bra. His fingers were thick and slow, but he’d had lots of practice so it didn’t take him long. He was distracted by applause when Sybil Baker-Hulme, his wife, finished her presentation, but only for a moment.
‘Then he pulled up my skirt. I told him I didn’t think we should be doing this and tried to press it back down. He said, “No worries,” in that deep voice that he perfected that got so many of us in trouble. He kissed my neck. I looked away. Anywhere else but at him. He said, “Plenty of time,” and reached between my legs. I cried out for him to stop …’
‘The shout that everyone heard,’ Jacobus said.
‘Shh,’ Yumi said.
‘I froze when I heard more applause. I thought it meant the symposium was over. I told him again, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” He put his hand over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. He whispered into my ear, “You’re exquisite,” and started biting it. He unzipped his fly and grasped my hand, pulling it toward him. I closed my eyes. I thought I heard someone in the hallway. I said, “Someone’s coming!” He said, “You’re just nervous, baby. Relax. You’ll enjoy it more.”
‘When he was finished, he said, “You’re a doll,” and zipped up his fly. He handed me a handkerchief. He said, “Here. Wipe yourself off.” I asked, “Can I go now?” He unlocked the door, but he left first. I just stood there.’
‘That’s the end,’ Yumi announced.
No one said anything.
‘Audrey, I know this is painful, but why are we reading this here?’ Yumi asked. ‘You asked Mr Jacobus why he didn’t go to the police. I have the same question. Why didn’t you take this to the police?’
‘I was going to,’ Audrey replied. ‘But I – we – decided to take it to Aaron’s house early the night of the party and show it to his wife.’
‘Why her? Why not the police?’
‘Because of who Aaron was. No one would believe he would do that to me. Because he’s so famous. It would just be my word against his. I know what happened with Mia’s complaint.’
‘And what did Sybil say after she read it?’ Yumi asked.
‘She turned pale. I asked her if she wanted me to leave, and she thought for a while. But she said no, she needed me for the party. She handed me the letter back and said she didn’t have time for this now. We would discuss things later.’
Jacobus didn’t want to doubt Audrey’s account – the mention of the cry from backstage that had ruffled the assemblage seemed to fit – but there were things that still did not add up.
‘But Schlossberg asked a question!’ he exclaimed. ‘At the symposium. How could he know what we’d been discussing on stage?’
‘As soon as he left me, he went out into the auditorium. So he’d have an alibi,’ Audrey said. ‘He knew what his wife liked to talk about. He only needed a minute to come up with a question for everyone to hear. Aaron always planned an alibi. He called it his “P.D.”’
‘P.D.?’
‘Plausible deniability. He was so slippery.’
‘Can you tell us what happened the night of the party?’ Yumi asked. ‘Why did you agree to go in the first place?’
Lucien jumped in.
‘Because I wanted to kill him.’
‘No!’ Audrey said. ‘That isn’t why we went. Lucien’s just saying that. We had agreed because we wanted to show Aaron that nothing he had
done would ruin our lives. That we could still be normal. To prove that even in his own house we were stronger than he was.’
That rang false to Jacobus, but he said nothing.
‘Then it all went wrong,’ Audrey continued. ‘I was talking to you on the veranda about the masterclass and then Aaron came and told me to clean up after Professor Dunster with Lucien. You remember that, don’t you?’
Jacobus nodded.
‘But I couldn’t find either of them anywhere and was about to come back to you when his wife found me. She told me that the studio was a mess and I was getting paid to take care of it, not to hound the guests. So I went there, but it wasn’t that much of a mess. I began straightening it up anyway.’
‘Was anyone there?’ he asked.
‘Not until Aaron came in. It was like he knew we’d be alone there. For some reason he thought I had gone there to wait for him. He wanted to do it right there. I said no, but he grabbed me. I tried to shove him away, but he was so big, and he started squeezing me. And then Lucien walked in with Sybil. Aaron pushed me away and started yelling that I had entrapped him. I don’t know what happened. Lucien and I were confused. It all happened so suddenly. We just got our things and left.’
Jacobus recalled that Schlossberg had been drinking heavily at the party. It was possible whatever minor restraints he had imposed upon his lust had been sufficiently loosened.
‘Why did you leave out the back, through the woods?’ Jacobus asked.
‘I was humiliated. I couldn’t look at anyone. I was sure someone must have heard the yelling.’
‘And that’s why you decided to drop out?’
‘I couldn’t face it anymore. I couldn’t face going through with telling people about it. I couldn’t face people looking at me. But what difference did it make? I couldn’t have played any better, anyway.’
‘So at that point, you’d decided to drop out,’ Jacobus postulated, thinking out loud. ‘But only when you heard people had gotten sick did you decide to actually disappear. And then Schlossberg died. You were afraid that after the scene with him, people would blame you and Lucien.’
‘Yeah.’
Jacobus thought about that for a moment.