EVE 4 : A Giant Key Sol

  “Who is Franz Liszt?” I asked Steve

He coughed out his coffee.

  “A pianist, he was Chopin’s best friend. That guy who called us a while ago is next. We need to move now, we only have three hours to save him.”

  We rapidly went back to the office to get the location of their next target. We called to check on him, he was on his way from Northampton to Bridgeport with his seven year old son. They were on a train, which meant it would take them two hours and fifty two minutes to get there. We reassured him that we would be waiting at the train station by that time.

  Four policemen, Steve and I arrived at Bridgeport train station two hours later, we were truly glad we would be able to save this one. The train arrived, we entered, not letting anyone out. And to our surprise, the man and his son were nowhere to be found.

   “Sir, did you stop anywhere on this tour? “ I asked the driver

   “Yes ma’am, we stopped once in New Haven.”

   “Jack, Owen, you’re both going to stay here. I’ll call you when we get there. Steve and the others will come with me.”

  As we arrived to New Haven 25 minutes later, we began our search. We entered Neighborhood musical school and found two bodies lying on the ground drowning in their blood in a classroom full of classical pianos. Steve’s eyes filled up with tears when seeing the little child’s corpse. We couldn’t make it in time.

  “How can someone be that cruel and violent? He’s just a kid.” Said Steve angrily.

  “Maybe it was for his own good. He would’ve been traumatized for the rest of his life, having witnessed his father’s murder.” I patted him on the shoulders.

  “Don’t try to talk human dear, you only make it worse.”

I grabbed my phone to tell Owen that he can now let the passengers go and found an unread message from Eve. It was a picture of a white swan in a lake. Swan Lake is Tchaikovsky’s most famous symphony, I didn’t need to ask Steve.

  “Steve, it’s Tchaikovsky this time. And we only have half an hour.”

  “We need to get out of here now and find the next killing spot.”

  “Did you just say spot?”

  “Yes, what’s with that?”

 I lift my head to find a huge map of the US in the classroom’s wall. I grabbed a pen and approached the map.

   “That’s our state, Massachusetts. The first victim was killed in Athol and the second in Marlborough.” I drew a line between the two cities. “The third one was killed in Springfield and the fourth in Pittsfield.” As I drew the rest of the line, it started to make more sense. “The fifth was supposed to be killed in Northampton, but he suddenly took a train to Bridgeport. He must’ve been frightened and was trying to protect his son. Despite their travel though, they killed them both.” I lengthened the line to Northampton and only one point was missing, but missing from what… I took a step back from the map, and suddenly gasped. Steve did the same. My heart raced as the realization struck me. How could I not have seen this coming? The connecting dots formed a greater shape travelling through Massachusetts, a giant key sol. I smiled as I stared at the missing portion of the shape, and the dot within. Boston.

   “Treble clef, it was a pattern.” Steve said

   “Their next spot is in our city, Boston. Steve, call the chief, we need a flight. It’s the only way we can make it in time.”

 We were in Boston in half an hour, and as it turned out, the deduction Steve had made the other day was quite efficient.  We now knew the age of their next target from Tchaikovsky’s date of death. He was a seven year old kid too.  Half an hour later, and having went through all citizens’ records, our men were surrounding every house possibly containing a seven year old kid. As the chief gave a sign, all of them entered each of the houses quietly. Only one house proved to be suspicious. The little boy, hands shaking on his piano’s keys, was playing Tchaikovsky and crying. They immediately called us to the house, and by the time we got there he was still crying. The more Steve hugged him the more he cried.

   “She was coming for me.” He trembled.

   “Who is she?”

   “The woman in the white shirt.”

   “You met her? When was that?”

   “Last week, she was waiting for me after school.”

   “What did she tell you?”

    “That if I didn’t play Tchaikovsky today, all day long nonstop, I would end up a stack of bacon, and she’d be the one eating me.” He started crying again.

    “What did she look like?”

    “Olivia stop it! He needs rest. You can ask him later.”

    “But we need to… okay I’d better leave. Stick by his side Steve, don’t leave him alone.” As I was leaving the place, I looked back at the kid and tried to comfort him: “Rest well buddy.”