The Piano Teacher -- Part Five

And now the final part of...

The Piano Teacher -- Part Five

"That is correct.  Now let's play it again..."  The nimble fingers of Sarah Hart glided over the ivories perfectly. 

"Sarah, that was excellent."   Frances praised her 10-year old student.  David and Angela sat quietly in the back of the room watching.

David whispered.  "Looks like this one will be spared the Mozart whack."  Angela agreed with a nod.

"That will be all for today.  Keep practicing the pieces that I gave you and I will see you next week."  Sarah gave Frances a hug and said goodbye.   Frances was bright and happy.

"Frances," called Angela.  She and David walked over to her.

"Good morning, Angela.  And you are...  Oh wait, you're David.  I meet you the other day."

"It's good to see you again, Ms. Fitzherld."

"Please call me Frances."   David was surprised at the completely different composure from their previous meeting.

"David wants to talk with you about your music.  He wants to record your playing and make it available to everyone."

Frances' eyes lite up with delight.  "Oh... that would be wonderful.   Will you be using Edison cylinders?  We have one at home."

"Well, no, we'll use something like a gramophone to record them."

"Oh... whatever.  I'm just excited about my music being enjoyed." 

 David and Angela both thanked her and left just as her next student, Johnny Watkins entered the room.

"As you can see, she is very different today," said Angela.

"Yes, I noticed that.   Well, I will be back in a few weeks with my recording devices and we begin."

David shook Angela's hand and they parted company.

The Piano Teacher -- Part Four

The Piano Teacher -- Part Four

"August 14th was the day Frances lost almost everything except for three things.   Frances' parents and younger brother died in an horrific house explosion and fire.   She was at a piano practice when it happened."  

"How awful.  To lose your family all at once."

"Movers had just left with their piano.  It was in need of minor repair before Frances' first east coast tour as an American protege.  She'd planned on using it on the tour.  The bust of Mozart was sitting on the front porch.  Apparently, her mother had taken it out there to clean it.   The bust served as an inspiration to Frances, so it would be traveling with her.  The story made many of the major newspapers."

David refilled his cup as well as Angela's.  He added more cream while she continued.

"So, Frances still has the piano and the bust, but the third thing that she kept... or gained maybe is a better term... wasn't visible at first.  It's only been recently... in the past 5 years... we have noticed that Frances' ability at the piano is still very strong... if not stronger.   She can sit and play music without sheet music.  And not just the classics but new songs as well.  Somehow she has become a living encyclopedia of music."

"Really.  From your notes, I understand she can play any piece of music composition."

"Yes.  She even can play songs that are on the radio right now.   She refuses to listen to one, but can play current hit songs of any genre.  Just the other day, I heard a new song on the radio.  I came in and she was playing it. I asked her how she new it.   Her response was 'It just came to me.'"

"Has someone being smuggling music in?"

"No.  We've watched and limited the staff that sees her."

"And what about the students?

"No, they aren't allowed to take anything in with them."

"Very strange..."

"And how about this delusion that she's killed her students?"

"As you read, it's all in her head.  No students have died.  She just imagines it.  We think it's a form of anger release.  Johnny Watkins left the other day after his lesson fit as a fiddle."

"So, in order to support her care, you have allowed her to provide music lessons to kids."

"Yes, parents pay big bucks and all are very satisfied with her teaching ability."

David scratched his head.  "Strange.  Very strange.  Have you ever thought of letting her... go out on her own?"

"Yes, in fact, we tried to release her, but no family member would take her.  They were afraid she really would kill a student.  Plus, she likes it here."

The Piano Teacher -- Part Three

The Piano Teacher -- Part Three

The next morning, Angela arrived a little late to work. She put her winter coat on the peg board near her office door. The weather man had promised a warmer day, but she wasn't sure that would happen.  Sitting down at her desk, she flipped the calendar to the next day. Tuesday, January 9th, 1937.

As she began to look over yesterday's notes, there was a knock on her office door.  She could see the glass window it was David.

"Come in." said Angela as she motioned with her hand.

"Good morning.  Cold isn't it?  I thought it was supposed to be warmer."

"That's what I thought.   Weathermen can only predict so much.  Did you get the chance to look over the file I gave you yesterday?"

"Yes, absolutely amazing information.  I think this has story major potential.  Imagine one of America's piano proteges here."

"Yes, we've taken very good care of her.   In fact, we've spent more time with her than any other."

"So how many of her students has she killed again?"

"Let's see. After yesterday's count, it comes to 17 all together."  Angela chuckled with a grin.

"Really.  That's a lot.  All the same way?  With her bust of Mozart?"

"Yes.  She won't use any of the others.   We gave her Beethoven and Liszt, but she says they don't have the same weight."

"I see.  She's very particular.  Well, if you're going to use a master of the piano, it might as well be Mozart."  David and Angela laughed over the witty comment.

"Frances is stuck on August 14, 1923.  It's been that day since she arrived here at the institution."  Angela sipped her coffee as she began to tell the tale.

"So what exactly happened that day?"  asked David as he stirred his own cup of coffee.

The Piano Teacher -- Part Two

The Piano Teacher -- Part Two

Angela never flinched as she scribbled her notes.   David glanced at her then over to Frances who smiled and nodded at him.

"May I ask a question?" said David to Angela.

"Sure, be my guest."

Turning to Frances, he said:  "Are you saying that you killed a man today?"

Frances, momentarily closing her eyes, shook her head.  She became fixated completely on David.  "No, I killed one of my students.   Johnny Watkins.  He's ten years old, you know.  I told him once... twice... and finally a third time...  Damn that boy... Just didn't listen...   No hitting the B flat...  Plain and simple...  The music clearly says C sharp..."

Looking stunned, David didn't know what to say. 

"So, Frances," said Angela.  "How many does that make this month?"

"I believe Johnny makes..." Frances rolled her eyes up counting in her head.  "That makes nine all together this month... No wait..."  She recounted.  "No... I'm sorry..." She smiled.  "Only eight..."

David's mouth hung open.   Angela remained stoic.  Frances seemed to enjoy the announcement of her achievement.

David's mouth dropped open. Frances enjoyed her achievement.

Already aware of David's shock, Angela remained stoic and quizzing Frances. 

"What's today?"

Frances snickered.  "Why that's a silly question...  It's August 14th.  I believe it is Friday."
   

"And the year?"

Frances snickered again.  "Why, 1923, of course."   She turned to David.   "I just turned 19 one month ago.  July 14th."

Angela finished a few notes.  "Thank you Frances.  David and I should check on the body."

"Oh yes, do." France fanned herself.   "In this warm weather, it'll start to smell.  Plus the blood will need to be mopped up."   Frances waved nodded as if to say goodbye as they left the room shutting the door behind them.

The Piano Teacher -- Part One

This week has been a whirlwind of writing.   I have completed two short stories and more on my book.  My short stories have very little editing other than spell check.  At some point, I am going re-read these and do some editing! 

This story has 5 parts. 

The Piano Teacher -- Part One

Frances Fitzherld perched perfectly in the chair, wringing her slender hands at the plain wooden table.  Beads of sweat rolled down her temples plastering hairs to her pale skin.   Her teary eyes darted from the two vacant chairs across the table to the door with a single window.  The nervous tension she emitted could have blown the door right off its hinges.   Her thoughts swirled like a tornado.  

I have to tell them...  I must confess...  I did it...  I killed him... I told him if he hit the wrong note one more time that was it...

Finally, a shadow appeared in the window cutting off the light.  Angela Harvey, stepped into the small room followed by a man in a grey pin-striped suit. Frances stood up.  Her thoughts flowed from inside her head out of her mouth into the air.

"I have to confess...  I must... I did it... I killed him... Just like I told him I would..." 

Immediately, Angela took command in a calming, yet stern, fashion.  "Please sit down, Frances.  We'll talk about that in a moment.  Right now, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine.  His name is David Templeton."

Frances, despite her intensity, returned to acting like a respectable lady.  Her hand wringing and her desperation dissipated as if Hyde had let Jekyll return in an instant.

David smiled at Frances.   "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Fitzherld."

In a prim and proper manner, she replied in her New England accent.  "That's very nice.  Unfortunately, I cannot return the compliment since I have not heard about you."

"Most understandable."  David was gracious and charming.  She liked him.

Angela laid her notepad on the table.  While jotting the date, she asked:  "So Frances, what did you want to tell me?"

Remaining calm and collective, yet confident, Frances said:  "I killed Johnny Watkins this morning.  I struck him in the back of the head with my Mozart."  

David raised his eyebrows at Frances' statement remaining there through Angela's casual explanation to him.

"She's referring to her bust of the classical composer sitting on her upright piano."    

Frances turned to David.  "Yes, I told him if he hit the wrong note one more time I would hit with my Mozart.  And that's what he did and I whacked him good."