Luthier's Apprentice, The (9 page)

“Yeah, that’s true, but the fact remains: those who’ve disappeared were all male violinists. What’s more, other violinists have vanished throughout the ages.”

Annika turned to Emma. “That’s what your grandfather said.”

“Your grandfather knew this?” Corey asked Emma.

Emma nodded, putting her hands inside her pockets for warmth. “He told me a couple of days ago. He said there are references to these disappearances in some old memoirs, but I don’t know which ones.”

“Why not ask your grandfather?” Corey seemed excited by the idea. “Your grandfather’s ancestors have been violin makers for many generations, haven’t they? I remember Monsieur Dupriez said that one time. He should know something about this. He could help.”

“The problem is, he doesn’t want to talk,” Annika said.

Corey’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Emma sighed. “I know it sounds strange, but he seems to know a lot more than he’s willing to tell me. Did Monsieur Dupriez write anything about the missing violins? Not only are the men gone, but their violins as well.”

“He mentions it in the notebook, but he doesn’t offer any explanation.”

“This is turning creepy.” Annika hugged herself.

“Are you cold?” Corey asked her. “Here.” Ignoring Annika’s weak protests, he took off his aviator jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Annika mumbled. “But what about you?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “My sweater is warm enough.”

Great
, Emma thought.
Now Annika will be impossible for the next few days
. To her surprise, she felt a pang of jealousy.

“There are references about pacts with the dark forces,” Corey said. “There are also references to Paganini. Actually, Monsieur Dupriez wrote three whole pages on Paganini alone.”

“There were many rumors of witchcraft around Paganini during his lifetime,” Emma said dismissively. “But it was mostly nonsense thought up by superstitious people, or mean propaganda by other musicians who were jealous of him.”

Annika waved her hand in front of them. “Hey, guys, can you fill me in? I’m the only non-violinist here. Emma, I’ve heard you talk before about Paganini—he’s the one who was double jointed, right? Who was he, exactly?”

“Niccolò Paganini is considered by some to be the greatest violinist who ever lived,” Emma said. “He began playing when he was, like, about five, and his father used to starve him unless he played without making any mistakes, so Paganini used to practice from morning till night. It soon became obvious that he was a virtuoso. Later on, he would play with such unbelievable skill that people thought him, in some way, supernatural.”

“He was the only violinist of his time who could move up and down the fingerboard at lightning speed,” Corey said. “His fingers were long and thin, and, more importantly, double-jointed, so he could execute all kind of crazy things on the strings. He could do left-hand pizzicatos. He could place his four fingers on four different strings at the same time. It was freaky, the acrobatics he could achieve with his fingers. He was a, well, a genius.”

“To add to his mystery, he had a magnetic personality, a charisma, he was tall and thin, and always wore dark clothes,” Emma added. “There were a lot of rumors… that he had made a pact with the devil, that he had given up his soul in exchange for musical skill. When he died, he wasn’t given a Christian burial.”

“Some people even claimed to have seen tiny demons floating around him as he played on stage,” Corey said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Wow,” Annika said. “This is, like, very dark stuff. You’re double-jointed, aren’t you, Emma?” She took Emma’s hands in hers and examined them. “Wow, it seems weird. No wonder you play so well.”

Corey examined her fingers. In spite of the cold, his hands were comfortingly warm. He looked at Emma. She thought she saw a glint of awe in his eyes.

Emma avoided his glance. A jolt of heat rose to her cheeks. She drew back her hands.

“Is anyone else in your family double-jointed?” he asked. “That’s an inherited trait.”

Emma nodded. “Grandpa.”

“Not your mom?”

“No. That’s not unusual. Traits like that may skip a generation or two,” Emma said.

“Do you guys think Paganini is somehow connected with this case?” Annika asked.

“I’m not sure,” Corey said. “Monsieur Dupriez obviously thought it was important, otherwise he wouldn’t have wasted his time writing all those notes.”

“He might have been brainstorming. When you brainstorm, you think up all kinds of crazy possibilities,” Emma said.

“But how can Paganini be connected?” Annika wondered. “He died hundreds of years ago.”

“No, thousands,” Emma scoffed. “He died in the mid 1800s, Annika.”

“Whatever. A
long
time ago,” Annika said.

They remained quiet for a moment, as if pondering the possibilities.

“Did you know Paganini owned a casino?” Corey asked.

Emma shrugged, as it was old news. “Sure. He was a gambler. He even pawned his Guarneri once.”

“How did you know that?” Corey flashed her a smile. He seemed impressed.

“Um, I
read
.” She smiled back, before turning serious once again. “How come the police didn’t take the notebook?”

“The police don’t have any imagination,” Corey said. “Anyway, there were so many notebooks and papers on his desk, I doubt they took the time to go through each and every one of them.”

Emma glanced at her watch. She sighed. “I have to get back. Grandpa’s waiting for me at the workshop.”

“Any more noises?” Annika asked her.

Emma shook her head.

“Noises?” Corey asked.

Annika explained about the noises coming from the attic, and about how Emma’s grandfather had always prohibited her from going up there.

“Hm,” Corey said. “If I were you, I would have found a way to get in there a long time ago. You know, to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? He always shows up just in time,” Emma said. “The problem is, he’s always in the house. He never goes out. He sends out for everything—food, coffee, newspapers. My mom is the one who purchases his clothes and everything else he needs. He never leaves. Except…”

“Except…what?” he asked.

“Except when he goes in search of wood for his violins. That’s the only time he goes away.”

“Well, then. You must find a way to get into the attic when he goes away for the wood,” he said.

“Didn’t you say he goes every autumn?” Annika asked.

Emma nodded.

“Has he gone yet this year?” Corey asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Which means…” Corey said.

“He’ll be going soon.” Emma had an odd feeling of foreboding.

“If you let me know when he’s away, I’ll be happy to help you solve the little attic mystery,” Corey said. “No—wait. I correct myself: ‘To a great mind, nothing is little.’”

“Don’t tell me—
The Sign of Four
,” Emma said.

“Nope,” he said, amused. “
A Study in Scarlet.
”

Emma felt like smacking the smile off his face, or better yet… kissing him. Confused by her thoughts, she tried to calm the thudding of her heart. “I really should be going. So, what do we do next?”

“I’ll take a look at the notebook once again, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” Corey said, balancing the skateboard in one hand.

“I want to take a look at it myself,” Emma said.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “We could meet tomorrow. I’ll bring it with me. At two, like today? In front of your grandfather’s shop?”

“Can I come too, Emma?” Annika asked.

“Sure,” Emma said, excited at the prospect of seeing him again the next day but trying not to show it. She asked him, “By the way, what music academy do you go to? I go to the Leopold Mozart.”

“Neat. That’s a great school,” he said. “I go to the... Sonia Ivanov Academy.”

“Oh, that’s more than neat,” Emma said, wondering why he’d hesitated. That was one of the best music schools in the country. Sonia Ivanov had been one of the best—maybe
the
best—woman violinist of the 20th Century. The academy had been founded about thirty or forty years ago, but Emma didn’t know if the woman was alive or dead, or if she simply had retired from the limelight. Sometimes old concerts of hers were shown on TV. Sonia had been a virtuoso, a child prodigy, and had performed as a soloist well into her late years. Then she’d abruptly stopped playing.

“It’s OK.” He smiled, somewhat bashfully, running a hand through his raven black hair.

“By the way, before I forget,” Emma said. “Have you thought about that discoloration on the floor in Monsieur Dupriez’s study? The burned spot?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I don’t have a theory yet. I’m working on it. It’s a small detail, but, as Holmes often said, ‘little things are infinitely the most important.’ Come on, I’ll walk you to your grandfather’s.”

“Oh...” Emma was surprised yet thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with him. “It’s a long way.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m going in that direction to meet a friend.”

“Um, sure.” Emma felt somewhat disappointed but tried to appear aloof.
You stupid
.
Obviously he isn’t going all that way just for you.

“Can I come, too?” Annika asked. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

They started in the direction of the tram. During the ride back to Grandpa’s they talked about school, skateboarding, and about their plans for tonight. He’d already been invited to a friend’s party, but he said he’d love to drop by theirs afterwards. They also exchanged phone numbers and added them to their cell phones. Corey had a quick mind and a sharp sense of humor and Emma and Annika often laughed at his witty comebacks. By the time they reached Grandpa’s shop it was beginning to darken and already there were kids trick o’ treating down the street.

“Thanks for walking me home,” Emma said.

Corey shrugged. “Hey, no problem.” He turned to Annika. She was still wearing his jacket.

“Oh!” Annika said. She started taking it off but he stopped her with a gesture.

“That’s okay. If you’re cold, you can return it later.”

“No, no. I’m warm now. Thanks.”

“Okay.” He put on his jacket. Then his attention shifted to a man and a golden retriever walking down the street. His expression hardened.

“Is something wrong?” Emma asked.

Corey looked at Emma. “No, it’s just...I used to have a dog like that.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “What happened?”

“One day it simply…vanished.”

“That’s terrible,” Annika said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I love dogs, but my mom won’t tolerate anything larger than a rabbit.”

Corey exhaled a breath. “Yeah, well.” His face brightened somewhat and he smiled. “I guess I’ll see you later tonight.”

Emma nodded, smiling back. She tried to contain her excitement. She turned to Annika. “You wanna come in?”

Annika shook her head. “I better go home and start getting ready. I’ll meet you at the party.”

Emma kissed Annika goodbye and watched her walk down the street with Corey. For a moment Emma just stood there, listening as they chatted. Again, she felt a twinge of jealousy. She knew she didn’t have any right to be jealous of Annika. After all, she’d just met the guy. But she couldn’t help it.

Sighing, she pushed the door and went inside the shop. It was empty. She frowned. No sounds of hammering, sawing or scraping came from indoors. She walked into the workshop. It was empty, too. Curious, she switched the hallway light on and headed upstairs.

From the landing, she glanced up at the attic door... just in time to see it closing.

Emma froze as she watched iridescent purple light glowing through the crack beneath the closed attic door.

G
RANDPA!” EMMA CALLED. “GRANDPA!” BUT THERE
was no answer. Not from the attic, not from the rest of the house.

Turning fast, Emma raced down the stairs and darted into the street in search of Corey and Annika. To her relief, they hadn’t gone far—they were only about a block away.

“Wait!” She ran after them. “Corey! Annika! Wait!”

Surprised, they turned back and jogged in her direction.

“What’s up?” Corey asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You have to come back,” Emma said breathlessly. “The door. The attic door—it opened. I mean, I saw it as it was closing. And Grandpa’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Corey asked.

“Trust me. He’s gone.”

“Calm down,” Corey said, holding her shoulders. “Maybe he’s gone to the attic. Maybe he’s there now.”

Emma hated to admit it, but she was scared. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but she had a terrible feeling, a sense of urgency she couldn’t explain.