When I woke up the following morning, Felix Moreau was gone. The door to his room was open, the lights were off, and the place was completely empty. He'd taken all of his worldly belongings with him to Nantes, leaving nothing but furniture. I walked past the room, and as I headed downstairs, a selfish piece of me hoped that Moreau wouldn't pass the audition, if only so I could see him again. It had been mere hours since I'd last seen him, but I missed him already.

Then again, this wasn't about me. If anyone deserved that position in the Opera de Nantes, it was Moreau. He had worked hard, practiced every day for hours on end, poured his soul into the violin. He deserved better than life as a starving artist. Moreau was a great violinist, and I couldn't think of anyone who was more worthy of success than him.

Just before I reached the bottom of the staircase, Gertie snuck up behind me. "Hi Mattie," she said. "We're going out to breakfast, aren't we?"

"Right," I said. "I almost forgot."

The two of us started walking toward Café de la Paix, and when we were a block or so away from the boarding house, Gertie said to me, "Is everything alright? You seem a little off today."

"Someone I knew passed away last night," I said, hoping that I wouldn't have to explain further.

"I'm sorry, Mattie," Gertie said. "That must be hard, especially after everything that happened with Johann Bergmann."

I nodded, and as usual, Gertie continued to speak. Sometimes, I wondered if she and Léa talked for the sake of talking, if they simply enjoyed the sound of their own voice. I, for one, found such frivolous chatter to be exhausting, but to each their own, I suppose.

"The physics department at the university has been on a hiring spree lately. We just got a new adjunct professor, and then we hired a ton of new assistants. With any luck, I might get a promotion out of all of this," Gertie said.

"That's wonderful, Gertie," I said.

Gertie shrugged. "The head of the department says that he prefers women for detailed work like spectral classification, but I think he really just wants an excuse to pay his workers less. It's frustrating sometimes - my team does all of the work, but we get none of the credit."

"It could be worse," I pointed out.

Gertie shuddered. "You're right," she said. "I could be like Winnie: married to a total bore with three kids and no direction or purpose in life."

"That's not what I was saying, Gertie."

"It wasn't?" Gertie sighed and then added, "Winnie's a lost cause, but at least you turned out alright."

I smiled: it was perhaps the closest I would get to a true compliment from my older sister. I looked toward Gertie, who was about to say something else, but we had just arrived at the café, so the two of us headed inside and ordered breakfast.

As we waited for our food and coffee, I picked up a copy of Le Petit Journal and started reading it. "I wish my French was better," Gertie complained. "You and Moreau are practically fluent, but I sound like a dying pig every time I try to speak the language."

"That's about where I was when I first moved here, but you get better over time," I said. "It's all about practice."

I flipped through the newspaper, but it wasn't long at all until I found an article on Lajoie's murder.

ANOTHER MURDER AT THE PALAIS GARNIER

Pierre Lajoie, tuba player for the Paris Opera orchestra, was murdered last night shortly before a rehearsal for Johann Bergmann's opera The Lost Shadow. His corpse was discovered near the staircase by another member of the orchestra, who promptly notified the police. The orchestra and singers then left the building, allowing the Paris police to investigate the murder. Lajoie was shot twice - once in the foot and once in the chest - suggesting that foul play was almost certainly involved in this case. The police refused to disclose whether they suspected a connection to Johann Bergmann's murder, which occurred in the same location on May 28 and remains unsolved...

I put the newspaper down, and I thought of Lajoie. Moreau was right - the Order of the Nightingales wouldn't be the same without him. I held back my tears as I thought of how he had welcomed me into the Order, into the Paris music scene. He had impacted my life, and there were probably a hundred others like me, people who had found their way to the Order of the Nightingales and felt like they were at home for the first time in their life.

All of a sudden, someone walked into the café. I glanced toward the door, saw that it was Léa, and waved to her. "Mattie!" she exclaimed as she strutted over to our table and sat down next to me. "How are you? And who's this pretty girl you're having coffee with?"

Gertie looked quite uncomfortable, so I stepped in and said, "This is my sister, Gertie. She's visiting from Cambridge."

"Oh, how wonderful," Léa said. "I've heard a lot about you, Gertie."

Gertie still looked suspicious as she sipped on her coffee, so Léa turned to me. "Did you hear about what happened to Lajoie?" she asked.

I nodded. "Actually, Moreau and I were walking by the opera house when it happened," I said nervously.

"I thought I saw you on the way out," Léa said. "It was strange - how it all happened so quickly. We had just started rehearsal - I think everyone was there except for Mr. Lajoie, but I'm not entirely sure - and then we heard gunshots, and we all had to flee the opera house. I...I'm really going to miss Lajoie. He was always stuck up for me, even when no one else did."

"I miss him too," I said.

"And then the next thing I knew, I heard a rumor that de Villiers hired a private eye to solve the case," Léa said. "Apparently he still thinks Bertrand Sylvestre killed Bergmann and Lajoie."

"Sylvestre?" Gertie said. "Isn't that your composition teacher, Mattie?"

I nodded and said, "I don't think he did it though. He was at the conservatory when Bergmann was killed, and he was at home with Sophie last night."

"Or maybe that's just what he wants you to think," Léa said.

"I don't know," I said. "It's hard to tell who you can trust these days." I then turned to my sister and asked, "By the way, Gertie, what were you doing last night?"

"Oh, you can't be serious," Gertie said. "I'm your sister!"

"I just want to make sure that you didn't..."

"I was in Cambridge when Bergmann's murder happened, and I didn't even know who Lajoie was until this morning, but if you insist," Gertie said bitterly. "I unpacked my bags, I read a Sherlock Holmes mystery, and then I went to bed."

"Which one?" I asked.

"A Study In Scarlet."

"Ooh, that's a good one."

"What are you even talking about?" Léa asked.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Gertie exclaimed.

"It's a series of detective stories," I explained. "Very popular back in England."

"And I'm still mad that Arthur Conan Doyle had the nerve to kill off Holmes and Moriarty!" Gertie shouted.

"Come on, Gertie," I said. "That was a year and a half ago."

"And I'm still bitter!"

"Anyways, what was the last thing you read?"

"Lestrade and Gregson got credit for solving the murder."

I nodded, satisfied by Gertie's alibi. She'd read nearly the entire book - she couldn't have done anything else that night if she'd gotten that far. I couldn't say for sure who had committed the murder, but it certainly wasn't my sister.

Not for the first time that day, I wished Moreau was here. He would have something insightful to say, some method to chase away the dark thoughts that were echoing in my mind. He would remind me to stay calm, to keep a level head, not to make too many assumptions about the case. I wondered if he'd made it to Nantes yet, if he was still waiting to audition, or if he'd already played, anxiously awaiting the results of the preliminary round. If I was panicked right now, he must be even more so.

While I silently sipped my coffee, thinking of Moreau, Léa attempted to talk to Gertie, but Gertie seemed much more tense around her than she did around me. Eventually, Léa got bored and turned to me. "Are you coming to the Order of the Nightingales meeting tonight?" she asked.

"How is there a meeting tonight?" I asked. "Lajoie's dead."

"I'm the Deputy Chief Nightingale," Léa said. "I'm supposed to host the meetings if anything ever happens to the Chief, and...well...Lajoie's gone now, so I suppose it's my job to get everyone together. I'm a little worried that it won't go well - Lajoie was beloved by the other Nightingales, and I know I can't be as great of a Chief Nightingale as he was..."

"You'll do great, Léa," I said. "I know you will."

"Thanks, Mattie," Léa said as she smiled slightly. "So are you coming to the meeting?"

"Of course," I said.

"Great," Léa said. "I should head to the fencing hall - Mr. Crémieux wants a rematch for some reason..."

"But you defeated him last time."

"I know - that's what I told him, but he won't listen. Anyways, I'll see you tonight."

Léa waved and walked out of the café, while Gertie turned to me and said, "So that's Léa Valencourt."

I nodded. "She's a good friend of mine."

"Moreau's mentioned her a few times in his letters. He says she's a sapphist."

"He's wrong."

Gertie looked unconvinced as she looked toward the clock. "Don't you have to be at work soon?"

"Actually, yes I do," I said as I finished the last of my coffee. "I'll see you later, Gertie. I still have to show you some of my favorite spots in Paris. You'll love the bookstore on the Île Saint-Louis, I'm sure."

"Can't wait to see it," Gertie said. "See you soon, Mattie."

She continued sipping on her coffee, while I ran out the door and headed straight for Sylvestre's house. I still had a full day of work, a full day of thinking of Bergmann and Lajoie and worrying about how Moreau was doing in Nantes, but I knew exactly what I would be doing that night.