by Noel Hynd
One particularly eerie midnight arrived.
Rolf looked at the keyboard before him and felt somehow disappointed by its potential this evening. He sighed and felt extreme unease with a conversation that he had just had with her. But he didn’t know what to do about it. His thoughts stampeded. Then they spiraled.
Entire vistas of deceit formed in front of him, kaleidoscopic images that gained coherent shape, blew apart, and subsequently reassembled as complete truths: Maurice was Diana’s not-so-secret lover. And Philip Langlois was, also. Maybe she left Maurice Sahadi’s studio and ran around the corner to tryst with Phillip. Maybe she liked to go to bed with both of them at once, just for the intensity of the experience. He thought of her naked in the arms of the other men and felt a blind rage building within him.
“You will have to kill her,” Rabinowitz reminded him. “It is really the only logical solution.”
“It would ruin my life,” Geiger answered.
“If you do it properly, it will be a small blip in your existence. You will be free to continue playing.”
“But am I a potential murderer?” Geiger asked. The ghost laughed.
“Of course you are! That is your fate!”
Geiger stared across the library and willed the ghost to appear before him. When it did, it was fully substantial. The elderly Rabinowitz.
“You created such beautiful music in your lifetime,” Geiger said. “But you have no humanity at all.”
“Sometimes one has only a single choice, Rolf Geiger. One or the other: Artistic genius. Humanity.”
“I don’t believe you,” Geiger said.
“Name a man with both,” the ghost challenged.
“Bernstein, Rubinstein, Renoir,” Rolf answered.
“Picasso. Wagner,” Rabinowitz countered.
“Go now,” Geiger said softly.
The ghost protested, but went.
In his library, Geiger steadied himself for several minutes. A plan was falling into place now, one which would define his future.
He found the score for the Emperor and placed it in the music rack. He attacked the piano passages and commenced the opening allegro with spirit and passion. He played the first part of the concerto, and as he worked at the piano a thought formed somewhere within. He was reminded that he had never felt this sort of jealousy before, not until his conversations with Rabinowitz had put the notion in his mind.
He heard water running upstairs. Diana was showering.
“Why?” he wondered. “To wash the cologne of another man from her body?”
Then he reminded himself that she always showered at this time in the evening.
Two hours later, he tired of his music.
His hands lifted from the keys. He closed the piano and went upstairs. He found Diana in the upstairs guest rom. The light was off, and she appeared to be asleep. He stood at the doorway looking into the room. Then went and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
He looked down.
The old man’s voice came as if on cue. “Strangle her now.”
He admired her lovely brown hair as it was spread over the pillow. He thought back to the days before he had visualized the ghost of Isador Rabinowitz. He recalled the time when nights brought to him love and warmth and sanctity and quiet.
Back before all these demons seemed to have come forth into his world.
“Now! Do it now! Kill her!”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, looking downward at her lovely face.
Rabinowitz’s commands came like wails from a banshee.
“Before she wakes!”
Diana’s eyelids fluttered and she came awake.
“Rolf?” she asked, surprised. She was a little frightened. He could see it.
His hands were on her. Touching her hair. The soft delicious warmth of her neck and shoulders flowed into his palms.
“NOW!”
“You’re very pretty, Diana,” Rolf said. She signed deeply.
“Thank you. That’s sweet. You woke me to tell me that?”
“Any man would find you very beautiful. So few would be lucky enough to have you.”
She wasn’t certain what he meant by that. She moved her hands to his and gripped it.
“Come to London with me,” he said. “I think that would be best. For both of us.” She smiled.
“All right?” he asked.
“All right,” she said. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Then he rose and left the room.
He walked back downstairs. He went back into the library. When he sat down and closed the door, Rabinowitz was present as soon as he lifted his eyes.
“When will you obey?” the specter asked. “When will you commit the murder? When will we have an end to this?”
“Soon!” Geiger fumed. “Soon, soon, soon! Soon we’ll have an end to all of this!”
The ghost seemed pleased. So Geiger began to play again.
He played through the night, over and over, until passages that had already been nearly perfect shone like jewels every time light fell upon them.
He was practicing now like a madman. And when Diana found him slumped asleep at the keyboard the next morning, that was also how he looked - like a madman.
Thirty-four
The schedule for the world tour was set by August 20. Thirty dates across the world, September through March. The dates had been arranged so that Geiger would not have to be on the road the entire time. He would do cities in clusters, then return to New York, then do another group of cities one to two weeks later. The schedule took into account breaks for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day of 2010. He would arrive in London three days before his concert at Covent Garden, for example, stay for an extra day, return to New York, then return to Europe ten days later. The schedule also allowed him time to make final preparations on scores.
There were a few final details to conclude before leaving for London. Rolf went by Brian Greenstone’s office again two weeks before departure to pick up the first class airline tickets that would take him and Diana to London.
Claire, as usual, was all smiles. Brian had provided her with the paperwork to sign and she stood dutifully by as he read and signed. Today, she was ready to give a sprained neck to any man who passed her. She wore a pair of blue jeans that were so snug that they appeared to have been spray painted on. Up top, she wore a filmy yellow blouse. Nothing else, it was apparent.
“All set,” Rolf said when he signed the final document. He stood to leave. Claire was between him and the door.
“I’m a little disappointed,” she said. “I invited you. You never came over.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.”
“The invitation still stands,” she said.
“Claire,” he said, “You’re not a woman of great subtlety, are you?” She shook her head. “Nope. I say what I think, I tell you what I want and I go after a man if I want him.”
“Then would it make sense to you,” he asked, “If I told you this: I’m on my way to London in two weeks. So the only thing I’m going to be banging on for the several days is my Steinway at home. Okay?”
She pursed her lips, smiled a little, and nodded sweetly.
“I hear you. I understand that,” she said. She thought it over. “Maybe when you get back you’ll feel different,” she suggested. “Maybe you’ll be, like, real tired and all and want to come over and settle in and let me make you feel real happy. Or maybe some evening before you leave. I’d love to just ease the tension for you.”
She made a quick little flick of her tongue upon her lips.
“Maybe,” he said. “And maybe after the first concert things will be different. We’ll see.”
“We’ll see,” she said with a smile. “So the invitation is always open.”
Thirty-five
Detective Janet Solderstrom stood in her usual brown suit in the entrance foyer of the town house. She was standing before a handsome Cape Cod seascape by John Hutchinson, the
Massachusetts artist. The detective’s plump fingers were either on the frame or on the canvas. Geiger couldn’t tell and she moved her hand quickly when she heard Geiger approach.
Her back was to Rolf as he came out of the library to meet her. Diana remained in the background. Solderstrom turned to face him.
“Hello, Detective,” he said without warmth.
“So?” she said. “Playing the piano, huh? I wish you’d play something I know. But we probably don’t listen to the same type of music.”
She gave him an icy smile. Something about her made Geiger bristle. When Geiger thought further about it, he realized everything about her made him bristle.
“As you may know, I have a concert in London on September 1,” Geiger said.
“Yeah. Right. That’s part of what I’m here to discuss. I’d like to get this case closed before you take off,” the policewoman said.
She looked over his shoulder at Diana. Her pupils were little beads of animosity. Then her eyes slid forward again and stopped on Geiger.
“This trip of yours,” she said. “I’ve been reading the newspapers. You’re going to be gone for six months.”
“No,” Geiger corrected. “The tour is seven months. New York remains my home. I go to other cities. I perform. I return. I leave again. The schedule extends for seven months, but my absence does not.”
“Oh, so you leave, you come back, you leave again?”
“That’s what I just said, yes.”
“Must be very tiring.”
“It can be.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what? Travel?”
“Playing piano. Music. Do people notice if you hit a wrong note? I would think it would be a lot of work, trying to get all the notes right every time.” Rolf’s irritation level was rising.
“It’s what I do,” he said. “I’m a pianist.”
“You give concerts, right? I’ve seen you in People magazine. I saw you on the television one time when you were walking through central Park with some candy. What show was that on?” she asked.
Geiger refused to answer.
“Entertainment Tonight,” Diana said from where she stood by the library door.
“That’s the one!” Solderstrom said. “Did you know they were taping you?”
Geiger realized a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“Detective, are you here to talk about the break-in here or about my career?”
“Well, one has a bearing on the other,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“I wanted to make sure you were only going to England on this trip.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I don’t want you to be out of touch. In case we need to ask a few more questions.”
“I’ll be available,” Geiger said. Geiger noticed that Solderstrom had a little tic to the pinkish flesh beside her left eye. It betrayed her anger when she started to get steamed.
“It bothers me,” Solderstrom continued. “You file a police report and now you’re going to travel the world. You people with money do stuff like that. Then I put in weeks of work, you’re around the globe, don’t come back, and our case goes down the sewer. Can’t blame me for getting teed off.”
Diana was becoming as angry as Rolf. She walked to his side, and the detective found herself looking at two pairs of enraged eyes instead of one.
“Sorry you feel that way,” Geiger said.
“If it were up to me, I’d have your passport lifted. I don’t like your attitude, Mr. Geiger.”
“Well, that’s fine. I don’t like yours.” Janet Solderstrom eyed him harshly.
“Anyway,” she said, “I got something to show you.”
She reached into her pocket and assembled a group of five photographs.
“This is sort of a lineup,” she said. “Except it’s not in person. I’m going to show you some pictures, and you tell me if any of these people are your trespasser.”
“All right,” Geiger said.
The detective handed them five photographs of what appeared to be older men. They all looked homeless, or at least severely down on their luck. Both Diana and Rolf froze when they arrived at the fourth photo. There was their watcher. Unmistakably.
“Him,” Diana said, holding up the picture.
Detective Solderstrom looked to Geiger.
“I agree. That’s him.” The policewoman took the photographs back.
“Thought it might be,” she sniffed.
“So now what?” Diana asked.
“Now I disappear again and you wait. I might have some news for you soon. That’s if you’re in the country and not too busy.”
“We’ll be here,” Rolf said.
“Both of you?” He felt an ominous suggestion in her tone.
“Both of us,” he said. “Together.”
“Well, that’s good. Some relationships aren’t so permanent anymore. I’m glad yours is.”
The detective turned and moved back to the door. Mrs. Jamison appeared from the dining area and went to re-open the front door. But Solderstrom opened the door herself and was through it without offering them the courtesy of a good-bye.
Thirty-six
Twelve hours later, Diana tossed in her sleep. She was still in the guest room, the bedroom next to Rolf’s. The night outside was quiet. The last thing she had seen when she had looked out the window was an array of stars, plus a yellow moon.
So why couldn’t she have peace? Why was something coming for her again from another stratum of reality? What was approaching her was a thought. A notion. A feeling.
A vision. Plus something grotesque from childhood.
Another horrible image was coming together again in her subconscious mind, and she didn’t like it. She knew it was going to be frightening. She knew before the image took her over. She rolled again in bed. She could almost hear herself thinking.
“Oh, Rolf…Oh, Rolf. Lover! Please help me, Tiger…”
“Diana?”
“What?”
“Would you like to die tonight?” Rolf asked. “Or would you like to live in fear?”
“Neither,”
“‘Neither’ is not an option.”
“Then what is?” she asked. Rolf’s voice:
“I’m sorry. I have to kill you, because I love you.”
She experienced a sensation of tumbling and she knew she was drifting into the darker regions of sleep. Then she was lying somewhere. She was all dressed up and motionless on white-satin sheets. Her eyes were closed. In her dream, many people came into view around her and she suddenly realized that the people around here were dying.
Her parents. Rolf. Her sister.
Her friends.
And, to make it complete, Rabinowitz.
“He killed me and he killed you,” the old maestro said.
“Who did?”
“Rolf. Crazy bastard!” said the old master. “He gets away with everything because of who he is.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that the same Rolf Geiger who makes love to you will also kill you.”
“No. Not true,” Diana protested again.
She saw herself lying perfectly still and lifeless in a coffin, hands folded across her chest. Rolf stood by dry-eyed, stood looking as if he were pleased.
She tried to cry out. She wanted to escape. She realized that she was at her own funeral.
Diana turned sharply in her bed again, arms flailing, crying out in her sleep.
Now the old maestro’s voice intrude.
“Don’t leave now Diana. This is your future.”
Diana felt a scream in her throat, ready to break loose.
She felt herself sinking again, sinking in the manner that Isador Rabinowitz’s coffin had gone into the earth. Four cozy dirt walls forever. She gazed upward. Rolf was shoveling dirt down on her dead body.
She bolted upright in the bedroom. The room was dark. Very little light from out
side.
Her eyelids flickered open.
“Diana?”
She jumped. There was a man standing in the room with her. Then, in the pale light she recognized Rolf.
“You okay?” he asked. “You were gasping and screaming and rolling all over the place. What are you dreaming about?”
It took a moment for her to realize. She had passed through a thick layer of dreams. Now she was back to a dark summer night. She leaned forward into the arms that waited for her.
She sobbed. Rolf embraced her. After several seconds she related the vision that had pursued her, how horrible it had been, and how it seemed that death had been so inevitable.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen. I promise. Nothing.’
“Tiger, what’s going on in this house?” she asked breathlessly. “Where are these thoughts coming from?”
He turned on a light. A friendly yellow glow embraced the room.
“I wonder,” he said philosophically. “Is something supernatural really here? If we have a ghost, it’s angry and traumatized. It wants us to be the same way. So it has different ways of terrifying each of us.”
She leaned back against the wall and gathered herself. Then she embraced him again.
She sighed.
“I’d be sunk without you, Tiger,” she said.
He smiled to further comfort her, but his own smile was short-lived.
His gaze traveled the floor and found a pair the feet of Rabinowitz. The ghost was visible to him, the glow still incandescent in Rolf’s own eye. Rolf motioned to Diana. “See anything right there?” he asked. He indicated the spot where Rabinowitz stood. She looked straight at the spot.
“No,” she said.
“See?” Rolf said. “Of course you don’t. We’re alone.”
“Liar,” the ghost said. She looked away.
“When will we have some peace?” she asked Rolf.
“Peace? When will you execute this bothersome woman?” the ghost demanded.
“London,” Geiger said. “This will all get resolved in London.”
Once again, he was simultaneously answering both of them and himself in the bargain. And he knew he was telling the truth. London would grant them all eternal peace.
