Grand Guginol

While Rhames was puttin’ away the daguerreotypes, his eye happened to catch the music sheets on me desk.

“You have an interest in music, Mr. Grimstone?” Rhames asked.

Seein’ where he was looking at, I said, “Jes’ professional. Client who wanted me to look inta that died ‘fore he could pay. Been meanin’ to get back to it, but non-payin’ curiosity don’ keep a roof o’er me head.”

Rhames walked over to the ol’ yella sheets and spoke the lyrics out loud. Still sounded like gibberish to me.

“This is phoneticized Qanya, unspoken for over five hundred years,” Rhames said. “What would that be doing on a music sheet only half a century old?”

“No idea,” I admitted while I walked over and picked up the newer sheets that Phillips had gave me. “These newer ones are what the client gave me when he hired me. He was conductor a’ a Grand Guginol couple of blocks from here. He was rootin’ through the theater basement for some unused music and found this. No composer on the sheets. He got enough curiosity to hire me and I had a lead right when he died.”





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