Chapter 7
GERMAN MUSIC AND SAMOAN CORONERS
George listened to the music wafting through the small apartment, an eerie melody with German lyrics.
Since meeting Andi, he had picked up enough of the language to recognize it, but the words were so drawn out, he couldn’t understand them.
Andi seemed to not only understand it. Something about the way his partner held himself, the almost imperceptible twitching of his right eyebrow, how he angled his body toward George in an instinctual search for help, told him this was more than just hearing his mother’s native tongue.
Rosalie squeezed past them. Her face was twisted with worry. “I’m so sorry. Ever since she heard it at the library, Tammy’s been listening to that music all the time. Celeste, a friend of mine who works there, let her go through the CDs, and she’s fascinated by it.”
“It’s okay.” George sent her a reassuring smile. “I just think my partner has heard this music before.”
“Komm, o Tod, du Schlafes Bruder,” Andi whispered. “It’s a choral from Johann Sebastian Bach. My oma used to listen to it.”
George groaned inwardly. Andi’s relationship to his deceased German grandmother—his oma—was a source of constant stress on a good day. At the moment, he could have done without her lurking in the shadows of Andi’s mind.
“You know it?” Rosalie stared at Andi. “What does it mean? I’ve always wanted to know, but the leaflet of the CD is gone.” She shrugged, making it clear that despite always wanting to know, the need hadn’t been pressing enough to seriously pursue enlightenment.
“The person talking is basically inviting Death to come and get him because he wants to enter Paradise and be with Jesus. He’s saying Death is the brother of sleep, very much like Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep, and his twin brother, Thanatos, who is Death.
” When he saw Rosalie’s horrified expression, Andi shrugged.
“The Baroque was a wild time.” He was walking toward the door that was closest to the entrance.
The music was clearly coming from there.
Rosalie somehow managed to overtake them again and knocked loudly on the grimy door.
“Tammy? We have guests. Can you open the door?” She looked at them with an apologetic smile. “Tammy can be—special, detectives.”
Now George was curious while Andi still seemed mesmerized by the music that stopped abruptly.
They heard hesitant steps coming closer, then the door opened slowly.
The face it revealed was a younger version of Rosalie, with the same dark, glossy black hair, skin a few shades lighter, and deep hazel eyes.
Her smile was shy but open. George estimated her to be in her late teens, early twenties.
He thought he recalled having read something about a daughter of Rosalie, but she had been only a side note since she wasn’t directly involved with Jagger’s death.
“Who are you?” Tammy cocked her head. Her tone and voice were those of a child, not of a young woman.
Before George could introduce himself, Andi beat him to it, which was—unusual. His partner hated interacting with strangers and children, and young adults were at the top of the list of people he’d rather never meet.
“I’m Detective Andi Hayes, and this is my partner, Detective George Donovan. You can call me Andi. We’re here because of Mr. Thomasin’s death, and we heard your music.”
“It’s good that he’s gone. I didn’t like him.” Tammy smiled.
“Tammy!” Her mother wrung her hands. “Please don’t listen to her, detectives. She’s not right in the head. When she was born, she didn’t get enough oxygen, and that has made her slow.”
The way Rosalie said the words made it clear that she didn’t mean them in a demeaning way, even though it sounded like it. It seemed to be more that she didn’t know how else to describe her daughter’s condition. George thought he detected a hint of panic and was sure he knew the reason for it.
“Miss Byrnes, we can assure you, we don’t have any illusions as to who and what exactly your partner has been.”
George wanted to add that he hoped Jagger had never laid a hand on either Tammy or Rosalie. He knew better than to do it though. The man was gone, and no matter what he had or hadn’t done, they were free of him now. No use waking sleeping dogs. Or dead ones.
“Always so loud. He stomped and screamed, always screamed. I hated it, hated it so much. Now it’s quiet again, so good. He’s gone forever.” Tammy grinned. “You like the music? Celeste says it’s sad music, but I think it’s soothing.”
Andi nodded. “My gran used to listen to this kind of music. And yes, it sounds sad, but ultimately the message is one of solace—once death takes you, you go to paradise.”
“The man made music to this song.” Tammy nodded.
“Which man?” George asked before thinking.
“The man in the movie. Celeste showed me. I don’t understand it. It’s the same as the words in the song, but I liked the man. His eyes turned yellow, and his ears bled, and then he heard everything.”
“Tammy, what have you been watching? Do I have to talk to Celeste?” Rosalie was now wringing her hands in front of her body, getting more and more agitated.
“Don’t worry. If it’s the film I think it is, there’s nothing too bad going on.” Andi looked at Tammy. “The man, he has dark hair, to his shoulders, doesn’t he? And he goes to a town and plays the organ in a church?”
“Yes! He wins! Because he can hear everything!” Tammy said triumphantly.
“It’s a good film. Thank you for talking to us, Tammy.”
“It wasn’t difficult. You listened.” With that, she turned around, shut the door, and a moment later, the music started anew.
“I’m so sorry, she’s—”
“It’s fine, Miss Byrnes. And don’t worry about the film. It’s called Schlafes Bruder, just like the choral, and it tells the story of a musical prodigy in the early 1800s in Austria. There’s a book as well, and the author is Robert Schneider.”
“Oh, well, if you say it’s fine.”
“It’s a sad story about not finding one’s place in life, but it’s not harmful.” Andi tried to smile. A sure sign he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Before Rosalie could get another word in, George offered her his hand to shake.
“Thank you, Miss Byrnes, for your help. Should we find anything new, we’ll keep you informed.”
She took his hand and nodded. “Thank you, detective. It’s nice to know that somebody cares.”
The words resonated like a bell in George’s mind.
If Agent DeCapristo weren’t on a power trip to further her career, nobody would have cared about the death of a small-time criminal like Mr. Thomasin.
George himself wouldn’t have cared too much.
He didn’t like what it said about the police as a whole and himself in particular.
They left the apartment building and went back to the Escalade. When they were seated, Andi turned to him. “You can’t save them all, and you can’t know everything. You have to make decisions based on what you know. We all do. Sometimes, we’re wrong. Sometimes, we’re right. That’s just how it is.”
“I know.” George sighed, simply accepting the fact that his partner knew exactly what was going on in his head. “It’s just a sobering thought. Nobody would have cared about Thomasin if it weren’t for an agent and her drive to get a leg up in the world.”
“Then let’s be glad DeCapristo is in the picture this time. We still don’t know for sure if this whole thing isn’t just a very unfortunate accumulation of coincidences.”
“There are no coincidences.”
Andi shrugged. “Even Gibbs could be wrong?”
George snorted. Before he could answer, though, Andi’s cell rang.
In his usual fashion, his partner had forgotten where he’d put the thing and had to search both his jacket pockets as well as the inside pocket before he found it.
Luckily for them, it was Evangeline Melcourt, coroner extraordinaire, calling them.
She was used to Andi’s delayed reactions.
“Manuia le aso, Andi, George. You’ve been busy.”
“A good afternoon to you too, Evangeline. I guess Gelman has contacted you about Jagger Thomasin?” George put his hands on the steering wheel without starting the motor yet. They could also have this conversation while they were still standing.
“Yes, he has. The body will be at my lab the day after tomorrow. What kind of trouble are you in now? Usually it takes a lot longer to transfer a body from one jurisdiction to another. You’re lucky he hasn’t been prepared for burial yet or, worse, already incinerated.”
“We’re not in any kind of trouble. You know us. We never are.” George winked at Andi.
“Uh, that’s still Andi sitting next to you, not some imposter who has stolen his cell?” Evangeline sounded amused.
“Yeah, why?”
“Then you are in trouble. Or trouble is going to find you soon. Probably once you have my report on Thomasin.”
“Can you treat it as an unknown cause of death?” Andi angled the cell away from George.
“Oi ioe, I can do that. I haven’t had time to read the preliminary report yet, and I won’t do it if you think that’s counterproductive.”
Not for the first time, George marveled at how easily Evangeline trusted Andi. Despite him being the most anti-social and grumpy person George had ever met, people still trusted him or rather his ‘intuition’.
“Thank you, Evangeline. I want you to look at this death without any preconceived ideas.”
“Stop being polite. It scares me.” Evangeline chuckled.
Andi flipped her the bird with the hand not holding the cell despite her not being able to see it. “Won’t happen again.”
“Evangeline?” George waited till Andi turned the cell back in his direction.
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please be quick?”
“Ioe. I’ll do my best. Luckily for you, Agent Gelman has made it clear that this autopsy has priority.”
“Thank you! I owe you!”
“Don’t forget it.”
“Never.”
Andi ended the call and pocketed his cell phone, this time in the outer right pocket of his jacket.