Wax

Candle Frost (2/2)

His partner said nothing, drawing towards the group of fancy lockers on the other end of the room and turning the combination lock of the corner-most unit. "We shall see about that."

The locker door popped open and swung with a creak, revealing a violin case that looked exactly like his own—premium leather finish, down to his very initials engraved in gold. This, he removed from the locker and closed it again, placing the cases alongside each other on the vanity.

It clicked at once.

Inside the replica was the real violin he'd brought to the concert hall beforehand and passed the theatre's usual security without any issues under the guise of an ordinary musician. Perhaps since yesterday, it had already been... or the day before. Even a week. No one would have noticed.

But how could he have known no one would check the case he brought with him today?

"Sheer confidence, sir," mused the sniper, unlocking the case that contained his prized instrument. "Supported by reason and empirical evidence. I play a character. And I daresay I play him well."

"How did you know they were going to put you in this room?"

Candle's partner gestured to the Victorian chaise lounge, inviting him to take a seat amidst what he deemed to be a lesson of his lifetime. Candle stood his ground by the doorway.

"A simple matter of reasoning is all it is. The process of elimination is a form of cognitive exercise even babies have been proven to understand. You see, judging from the floor map of the theatre's dressing rooms, they'd reasonably have me close to Monsieur Altès or so he would have requested to be the case, even. The man has been inviting me to perform with his orchestra for three years straight and I'd turned him down up till this very moment. He'd grab at every opportunity to speak with me. Therefore, all I have to do is think about the dressing room they'd assign the conductor to. It is usually the farthest away from the common restrooms, where movement and noise would frequent and hinder his attempts to concentrate before the performance—he has a habit of doing that, twenty minutes every time, or so his secretary had shared—and so we'd eliminate rooms one to three. According to the floor map, room four has no windows and would therefore be a poor choice for someone with mild claustrophobia like Altès and is rather small so we're left with rooms five, six, and seven.

"Rooms six and seven are the most spacious and feature wall-to-wall windows but only room six has a view. Room five could be a possibility by what would the organizers gain in assigning the conductor to an inferior room? So six and seven. Given a choice, Altès would have to decide between enjoying a glass of champagne gazing out of the north-facing windows of room six, with a view of the city and giving up said luxury for someone else—likely my own—comfort. Would he do that? Or would he opt to have them assign me the poorer of the two and then, invite me to his dressing room for a conversation where I am likely to stay for a longer time, appreciating the view and the champagne and forming a falsely intimate bond for future selfish purposes while also being forced to come to terms with his seemingly superior status?

"And so increases the possibility of him being assigned to room six but surely it would be a mistake to base conclusions upon vague human behavior that, though mostly consistent with thorough observations, may sometimes surprise. I had to make sure of it.

"I wrote to the duke in advance, requesting south-facing windows away from the noise and commotion, and for the purposes of misdirection, made silly requests to have the room feature furniture in a single shade of white and a vase of nine white roses placed exactly nine inches from the edge of the vanity. Of course, playing the part of a socially exclusive musician of elite status and lofty ideals resembling that of any secret virtuoso. But why white? I'd placed my violin in this locker not only because they had combination locks on all of them, but because lockers were the only things in dressing rooms that would not fit through the door—therefore extremely difficult to replace—and this, room seven, being the only room with a locker that was white, would have been the perfect choice. And how did I know the locker was white?