The Phantom of Valletta

by Vicki Hopkins

  “I will admit, between the two of us, that I found it difficult to gaze upon his face. Nevertheless, I have seen worse—much worse. It is only one side, too, not his entire body.”

  “True, but it has scarred him deeply, Désirée. You are aware of the trauma and pain his deformity causes him, correct?”

  “Yes, of course, I am aware. That is why I did not react with horror. I’ve seen other horrors in my life. There are many types of deformities, Madame, both physical and emotional.”

  “Yes, of course, you are quite right” she replied, surprised by her wise answer. However, it wasn’t enough to satisfy Andrea’s curiosity. “Tell me, Désirée, about your family. You mentioned you were alone. Is there no one else?”

  “No,” she replied quickly, shaking her head.

  “You said your family came here from France during Napoleon’s occupation. Are they all dead and you have no family remaining in France?” Andrea worried she was pressing too hard for information on her little fishing expedition for Erik’s sake. “Forgive me,” she continued, in an attempt to smooth over her actions. “I don’t wish to pry.”

  “Madame,” she replied, straightening her shoulders. “If my tutor wishes to know more about me, he may ask me directly rather than sending you to inquire about my background.”

  Andrea sighed over the young woman’s insightful observation that she was indeed snooping. “Yes, of course, but he rarely speaks to anyone on a personal level.”

  “I assure you,” Désirée added, “I have tried to open up to him, but he has made it quite clear that we are together for violin lessons and nothing more.”

  Andrea watched her hand clutch the box tightly, as if it pained her to admit he acted as if he had no interest. Before she could respond, Désirée asked a most surprising question in return.

  “Does he wish more of me?”

  “More?” Andrea asked, clearing her throat of the lump that had formed. “I’m sorry, but I’m not privy to Erik’s private intentions or emotions.” Liar, she thought to herself. “I think perhaps he is somewhat curious about you. However, he doesn’t wish to be forward while in your presence by asking personal questions about your life that you may not wish to discuss.”

  In a surprise move, Désirée rose to her feet. She placed the box of perfume in her apron pocket. “I must return to my duties. I have at least 50 more arm rests to dust, and then I must do the boxes. The day is nearly over. The doors will open in a few hours for the show.”

  Andrea stood. “Yes, of course, Désirée. Also, might I add, if I haven’t said so before, you are doing a superb job with your duties. We are all well pleased.”

  Désirée pulled her eyes away and moved over to the next seat with her dust rag. Andrea sensed the discussion had ended, but offered her an open door.

  “Please, Désirée, if you ever wish to speak of any matter, I want you to know that you are more than welcome to come to me. Erik can be…” She hesitated, trying not to sound cruel in her description. “Well, Erik can be moody and difficult to understand. I’m here if you need me.”

  Andrea left Désirée’s side. It was obvious she had been hastily shut out by refusing to speak further. She found it troubling, but hoped she would take her offer seriously.

  As she walked out of the auditorium, the nagging unknown and frequent worry she felt for Erik returned. Something felt wrong, but Andrea could not put her finger upon it. She could only hope disaster did not lurk around the corner, as she headed toward Erik’s quarters to report upon her meeting with Désirée.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Richard called Darius to his office the next day to go over the matter of the lost keys. He found the situation unsettling. There were numerous doors in the building, and Richard requested that Darius bring the architectural blueprints in his possession for safekeeping. He needed to go over the plans, write down the exact locations of each door, and arrange for the expedient change of locks. It would be an expensive and time-consuming task but necessary.

  For extra security, Richard instructed Darius to make nightly rounds. They had no idea who could be trusted amongst their staff. If the keys were stolen and not merely misplaced by Darius, there had to be a saboteur in their midst.

  On top of the missing key quandary, Richard kept his own secret of sorts buried underneath the piles of correspondence on his desk. Within the last week, written threats had arrived by posted mail. Richard disregarded the first letter as a mere prank, but then with regularity, the postmarked letters arrived bearing no return address. The first letter had been addressed to the Royal Opera House. Then correspondence arrived addressed directly to Erik Dante. Richard took the risk of opening it to read the contents, recognizing it had ben penned from the same hand as the first.

  To his horror, the contents spoke of death, fire, and retribution. He should have told Erik, but he worried over his reaction. However, based on the series of recent events, Richard knew he had to reveal their arrival. Both matters needed police involvement. The theft of keys and written threats were worrisome.

  A knock came at the door, and Richard called out. “Darius, come in.” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk. “Close the door and have a seat.”

  Darius did as instructed and sat down, fidgeting with his hands. Richard’s eyes fell upon Darius’ open-collared shirt and saw dark marks on his collarbone.

  “My God, man, are those bruises from Erik?”

  “Yes,” he replied, rubbing the base of his neck with his hand. “Had you not intervened, I think he would have dug his nails into my flesh.”

  “Well, I can’t condone Erik’s behavior. I’m sorry you had to endure his wrath, but you must admit you were derelict in your duties. How in the world did you misplace the second set of keys?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied sheepishly, lowering his head. “I kept them in a drawer in my work room, and I went to check on them and found them missing.”

  “Are you sure you put them there? Perhaps they are in another drawer. Did you look everywhere to make sure you’re not mistaken about the placement of the keys?”

  “Oh, yes. I knew the Master would be angry, so I emptied all the drawers. No keys.”

  “Well, it’s indeed a problem, Darius. It troubles me deeply for a variety of reasons. You should have been more careful.”

  Darius nodded and chewed nervously on his lower lip.

  “I’ll need to go over the architectural plans that Erik gave you for safekeeping. They will indicate where all the doorways in the building are located. We need to have every lock changed and two more sets of keys made. When finished, we’re locking the keys up for safekeeping.”

  Richard stood from his desk chair. “Please go and get the plans and bring them to me,” he requested, expecting Darius to comply. However, to his surprise he sat motionless. The blood drained from his face leaving an ashen color, quite unusual for his dark complexion. For a moment, he thought Darius had stopped breathing entirely. He went up to his side and laid his hand on his shoulder.

  “Good Lord, man, are you all right?”

  Darius slowly lifted his eyes until they met Richard’s and then confessed his sin. “I’m afraid they are missing too.”

  “What!” shrieked Richard in horror. “You cannot be serious!”

  “I…I…” Darius stammered nervously. “Someone took the plans too!” He quickly lifted both hands and grabbed Richard. Falling to his knees, he pleaded. “Don’t tell the Master. Please, Monsieur Mercier, he will strangle my neck for sure. I just know it!”

  “If I don’t strangle you first,” he growled. Richard unleashed his own temper and grabbed Darius by his collar, yanking him to his feet until he stood upright. Both his hands landed on his shoulders, where Erik’s had been the day before, grabbing him hard and giving him a shake. “Have you looked everywhere or have you just misplaced them through total incompetence?”

  “I have looked!” he squealed like a pig being dragged to the slaughter. “I looked
everywhere. I did! I did! I kept them rolled up and placed inside a closet, but they are gone! Just like the keys!”

  Richard panicked. The plans told every secret of the opera house. Erik had carefully drawn each architectural change, every new corridor, every secret entrance and exit to his private domain behind the walls. Now, they were in the hands of some crazed lunatic no doubt. Even he did not feel safe any longer.

  Who would steal from underneath their noses? It had to be someone on the inside; someone privy to everything going on. An unhappy worker perhaps? Was it the same employees accused of the first fire? Had the disgruntled tenor returned?

  Richard released his grip. “He’ll have to be told,” he groaned in resignation. “Your Master’s safety and life are at stake.” He looked at Darius, narrowing his eyes. “You do realize how vulnerable we all are? None of us are safe, and the private entrances that lead to Erik have been exposed. Whoever is doing this has evil intentions.”

  Spurred by fears, he grabbed Darius by the collar and escorted him down the hallway to Erik’s private quarters.

  “Oh, please,” Darius begged. “He will kill me.”

  “Stand up like a man!” Richard yelled. “He will not kill you, but you will no doubt suffer his wrath for your stupidity.”

  Darius stumbled the entire way struggling against his pull. They entered through the locked corridor and down to the panel that led to Erik’s quarters. Richard’s hand felt along the wall for the mechanism, and pushed it until he heard the latch unclick. He would not ask or beg for entrance. The serious matter demanded immediate attention.

  The panel slid back, and Richard stepped inside, pushing Darius by his collar through the door. He shoved the servant to the ground. Erik glared over their intrusion and took a defensive stance.

  “Before he says a word, Erik, I want your word you will not kill him.” His knuckles had turned white from his clenched hand on Darius’ shirt. “Give me your word!” He lowered his eyes to Darius on his knees pleading for mercy.

  Erik eyed Richard in return, and then glanced over at Darius begging for his life. His nostrils flared in anger, and his eyes turned dark. He looked like a tiger ready to pounce and devour.

  “Promise me, Erik.” Richard pressed for a reply. He hoped the situation would not turn into a physical altercation. If Erik tried to kill Darius, Richard would fight for his life. He realized that he could lose his own by a quick snap of his neck from the skilled executioner.

  Erik prowled over to their side. He circled them briefly and then hissed out a response between clenched teeth. “All right, I won’t kill him. Tell me what the incompetent jackass has done this time.”

  Richard took his word at face value and pulled Darius to his feet. “Stand up, damn it, and tell him what you told me.” Richard kept his hand upon Darius’ collar intent on pulling him out of harm’s way should Erik lurch forward for the kill.

  Darius’ eyes bounced between the two men, looking as if it were his last confession before death. “The plans, Master, the architectural drawings for the Royal Opera House are gone. They were stolen with the keys.”

  Erik lifted his hand in the air to backhand Darius in the jaw. Richard quickly reacted and stopped it dead before the blow came across Darius’ face. Erik’s eyes flashed angrily in response, and for a brief moment, Richard wrestled Erik’s wrist.

  “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him,” he protested in defense.

  Erik relented and pulled away seething in anger. “You Goddamn fool! I should kill you anyway!”

  Richard pulled Darius by the collar and pushed him toward the door. “Get out now, so I can talk to him in private. While you’re at it, go count every damn door in this entire structure and don’t come back until I see it written down on paper where they are located!”

  Darius nodded in agreement and fled from their presence. Richard turned around and looked at Erik recognizing the craving to kill in his eyes. He needed to tread carefully and speak wisely in the next few moments or he’d never leave the room alive. Erik was unstable, and this only proved to feed Richard’s belief that the Opera Ghost could still be capable of the murder.

  “We will deal with it, Erik. We’ll find a way to get around these problems.”

  “And how do you suppose that will happen?” he spat in return. “We are all sitting ducks. The keys and the architectural plans with every secret passageway carefully designed by my hand are in the possession of another! I’m no safer than if I slept on the doorstep at night shrouded only in my cloak.”

  Erik retreated from their face-to-face encounter and began to pace the room. After a few minutes, his anger subsided, his breathing slowed, and his facial expression relaxed. It seemed the appropriate time to tell him the remainder of the news, now that he was in a calmer state of mind.

  “There is something else you need to know.” Richard hesitated while waiting for Erik’s response.

  “What now?”

  “There have been threats arriving in the mail addressed to the Royal Opera House and to you personally. They come in short letters, no return address, containing threats of death and fire.”

  “Why haven’t you told me this before?” Erik demanded coldly, taking a few steps toward Richard.

  “Because of your actions, that is why! My God, Erik, your temper at times is enough to scare the daylights out of me. You bring me here from Italy and give me responsibility for handling the day-to-day affairs. I walk constantly in fear I’m going to be another Joseph Buquet hanging at the end of a rope.” He paused for a moment, his voice shaking in blunt honesty. “You scare the hell out of me!”

  The confession seemed to soften Erik slightly, as he retreated from his approach in Richard’s direction. “I didn’t kill Buquet, by the way,” he answered nonchalantly. “Not that anyone would believe me. The man was an accident waiting to happen.”

  “Regardless,” Richard commented, struggling to believe his words. “We have bigger matters to handle right now. What do you suggest we do?”

  “The locks,” Erik decided. “We’ll need to change out all the locks as soon as possible. As far as the plans, if they were stolen by someone in-house, we are at their mercy every waking hour.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought the same,” Richard confessed, heaving a worrisome sigh over the possibilities. “I’m turning over the threats to the police as soon as possible, asking them to start an investigation.”

  “Of course, do what you think is best.”

  Erik’s demeanor quickly changed. It caught Richard off guard. Erik lowered his head, and his shoulders drooped. He walked over to his violin and trailed the edges of the instrument with his index finger. He appeared deep in thought and strangely removed from the situation.

  “You haven’t told Andrea any of this, have you?”

  “No, of course not. You know how she worries.”

  “I’m quite aware,” he responded. “She doesn’t need to know, but her curiosity will be piqued with the changing of the locks. The matter of the missing plans and written threats must be kept secret at all costs.”

  “Of course,” Richard agreed, approaching Erik by a few feet. “I’m sorry about all this.”

  Erik turned toward Richard with a distraught face. “I thought that coming to Malta would finally bring peace to my life. I traveled thousands of miles and poured my soul into this endeavor to forget the past.”

  Erik picked up his violin and held it in his hand. His eyes lowered to the instrument, and Richard realized they brimmed with tears.

  “However, it seems as if hell and the Devil follow me no matter where I walk upon this Earth, Richard. I’ve been unable to flee from the curses of my life once again.” Erik abruptly set the violin down and walked over to a decanter of cognac.

  “We’ll get through this,” Richard said, in a feeble attempt to offer encouragement. “Nothing has happened yet and it may not. It could just be all talk and pranks meant to unnerve the new owner. We will discover who is behind this. I
feel sure of it.”

  Richard’s words sounded like hollow promises. The atmosphere in the room turned into one of profound sadness. He felt terrible for Erik, who by now had downed a full glass of cognac. His countenance faded into despondency.

  “I’ll leave you now.”

  Richard retreated from Erik’s quarters worried about the man he left behind. He could never understand Erik—the Ghost that had haunted and tormented his own life for so many years. It appeared it had become Erik’s turn to be haunted and tormented in return. Whatever the reason behind Erik’s current woes, Richard sympathized over his dilemma.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Erik did not attend the evening performance. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything after the news he had received. However, he looked forward to his scheduled tutoring with Désirée. He sent instructions for her to meet him on stage that evening, rather than in the orchestra pit, planning to use the acoustics of the auditorium to pick up deeper tones during practice.

  She arrived escorted by Richard, who quickly left. Erik noted his troubled demeanor. As for himself, he hid his emotions in front of his student. Possessing a face that was half-masked did have its benefits.

  As soon as Désirée arrived, his nostrils inhaled the scent of rose within a few feet of where she stood. He couldn’t help but curl a smile. She noticed his reaction and quickly responded.

  “I received your gift.”

  Désirée drew close to where he stood, and Erik allowed her to do so without complaint. He made a mental note to thank Andrea the next time he saw her for choosing a decent fragrance that he found extremely pleasurable.

  “Thank you, Erik. It was a kind gesture.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He cleared his throat. For a moment, he lost himself in her blue eyes glimmering from the illumination of the gas stage lights.