“You’re coming with me.”
“Hyacinth, don’t play the idiot.”
“Don’t call me by my name.”
The left hook caught him by surprise, hitting Freddy right in the nose and breaking it. He ran away, Hyacinth did not bother going after him.
Out of the reserve, he went through a wide corridor leading to the entry hall, the music dimmed, losing itself in the thick walls and the smooth carpet. The mysterious case that had once caught his interest now scared him, eating at his lungs and stomach.
Hyacinth was lost the moment the music started, how this was possible, Freddy did not know, nor had he a clue as to why he was unaffected. Whatever it was, it meant Hyacinth would end up in the obituaries soon, alongside an awful lot of people. Breath, rethink it from the start.
They arrived at the Saint-Laurent precinct in Grenoble early in the morning and gained access to the detention cells. The locals didn’t ask, Hyacinth was such a prick that a failure to uphold rules was always worth it if it meant getting rid oh him faster. They found Bourkas there. in retrospect, he did not lie one bit.
“Hurry up, I have wasted enough words with your kind.”
Hyacinth played the bad cop by being himself, Freddy leaned against the wall and played the mute bad cop.
“How do you kill them?”
“The guitarist and his girlfriend, the punks, the saxophonists and his parents.”
“It is a sad day when the cops are reduced to make something up to fill in the gaps born from their own incompetence. I have no clue what’s happening in that little fantasy of yours.”
Freddy walked to the table and dropped a sheet of paper in front of the suspect.
“My good colleague here had the luminous idea to take a closer look at your new talents.”
Bourkas’s face became white.
“I do not understand, nor will I sign any made-up scenario you made.”
“Quite the opposite, you know much more than we do. You physically assaulted your pianist, two of your cellists were found starving and catatonic, they had to be fed by force and electroshock were used to break them out of it. A trumpeter was found unconscious next to the corpse of his boyfriend. Should I go on? I could, but that is not what bothers me the most, there is another common thread among your troop.”
“Shut it dipshit, you will talk when allowed to. The kids have no pedigree, they never played on a professional level, some of them wouldn’t cut it as amateurs. You know they are untalented. You know most nearly died, that’s what makes you hard, the kids and the music.”
Jonathan spoke with poison and scorn:
“You’re smarter than your colleagues.”
“Why did you recruit them?”
At once, the disdain in his voice disappeared. The tough nut started dreaming with eyes wide open.
“I did it out of love for the music.”
“You want to kill them out of love for music. You’re insane.”
Freddy was starting to understand. This mad case had no killer involved, at least not in the sense Hyacinth thought.
“I won’t kill anybody, I simply offer the music to those who can appreciate it, that is my purpose.”
“Freddy, we’re leaving.”
They left the post, entered Hyacinth’s cart and went towards the sport’s hall, if it happened, it would be there.
“Is your gun is loaded?”
“I don’t think there’s a killer, boss,” Freddy said.
“You’re in love with killers, gloomy crimes and the worst humanity has to offer, you’re not seriously believing his delusions?”
“The crime scenes are too far apart for one man, the dead to insignificant to be an organization, we’re betting on the wrong horse.”
“You’re tiring me with your theories. We bag the killer and go home.”
“One criminal finds a way to murder so discreet and convoluted that no policeman can understand how he does it and he uses it to kill random young aficionados? Bite me.”
“It’s called a psychopath.”
This was hopeless, Hyacinth was as stubborn as he was unlikable. Freddy knew it didn’t add up, this was no killer, his mind could not comprehend it yet but his interest in music increased all the same.
They presented badges and threatened to cancel the evening should they be denied. Preliminary search revealed nothing, only artists preparing themselves and the growing crowd. Toilets, offices, corridors, nothing out of the ordinary.
They ignored the contempt of the guests and security details, the same they reserved for young delinquents, hobos and presidential candidates. Hope for a miraculous find kept them going.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Freddy with despair as they entered the reserve.
It was a mess of nightmarish proportions, made worse by the fact they did not know what they were searching for.
And then the music started. They didn’t notice it at first, until Hyacinth started to put his hair back into place, like a gust of wind had messed it up, which should have worried Freddy considering his boss was bald.
That nonexistent wind, that was the moment he lost him, Hyacinth walked towards the scene to observe with a fascination he never manifested before, enough to smash Freddy’s nose in for interfering.
Bloody and groggy, he contemplated the incoming disaster. They would all die, like in the garage, in a similar state of mind than his soon-to-be-expired boss.
Bourkas said he offered music to those who can appreciate it, Hyacinth, in the worst stroke of bad luck ever, was among them. Walking towards the exit, Freddy noticed how bad the music was.
A wrong note, and it was like the entire building exhaled after having held its breath. He stood there holding his nose and listening.
It happened again, the security detail he came across suddenly noticed him and asked if he needed help. Rhythm and crescendos did not overlap well. The rockers in the garage had training, the opera had been thrown together in a hurry.
They wouldn’t die this evening, mistakes kept breaking the trance, he still had a chance. He had to retreat and prepare, tomorrow would be the next play and the last, for better or worse.