Dear Louisa,

Chapter 4 - A Grand Piano

Sonya made her way through the sea of people, with the man she met pushing away every curious interviewer that wanted to know what on earth had happened to her. Murmurs, hushed voices, frantic mumbles, every noise that accompanied a controversy rose from the crowd.

"Son- I mean, Lady Veronica! Wait!" Margie said, running towards Sonya.

She was stopped on her tracks by a hand. It was by the man from before that brought Sonya out of the corridor. An expression of skepticism could be read on his face.

"It's alright, she came here with me." Sonya told him.

They all made it to the foyer, which the man locked, shutting the people from the party away. The room was lit with warm tones by the wall lamps. The wood almost seemed like they were painted gold. The windows gave a view of the cool night, the stars and the moon.

"Well, we might as well introduce ourselves, I'm Frederik Tudor. I take it you're familiar with Anna? She's quite popular." He says, taking a seat on a chair by the door.

Margaret let Sonya sit on a sofa beside the hat rack.

"Why yes, that lady ought to be a little less serious." Margie remarked with annoyance seething through her voice.

"Ah yes forgive me, she can be quite... haughty," Fred said.

"I'm Lady Margaret. from Duscania." Margie curtsied for Fred.

"And our infamous damsel over here?"

"Veronica. Freeman Isles," Sonya said, looking over to the windows.

Margie asked for what happened to which Fred then explained based on what Sonya had said. Sonya only stared at the window, into the dark. The dark dim land reminded her of the encounter. Her heart pounds, knowing that a possible murderer is on the loose.

Her racing thoughts seemed to drown out everything in her surroundings. She couldn't help but think of what the man was trying to do and why he would do it. She knew it wasn't going to be good.

There had to be something they could do about it, she thought.

The noise from the outside gradually subsided and suddenly the striking of a piano played. It was a very familiar melody, popular as one might put it. Alas, it striked Sonya's mind.

"Mozart?"

"Ah, It must be Anna, she has quite the ways with distracting people. I can imagine she had enough of the murmuring and the hushed gossiping."

Then, suddenly a knock began on the door. Fred shuffled about, stood up, and went over to unlock the door. Silently the door opens, to show the face of Tom, letting the melody of the piano enter. He had a worried look on his face.

"Found the masked man?"

Tom shook his head and entered, closing the door behind him with sluggish pacing. His palm wiped his entire face, almost as if something terrible happened. Sonya sat up and looked at him and upon noticing his expression, gave a look of curiosity.

"He killed someone."

Gasps escaped from Margie and Sonya and Fred's eyes widened in fear. Yet, the music played on. A melody so different from what they were feeling. It did nothing to ease the tension. The scene plagued Tom's mind.

"Well, who the hell is it? Who's dead?"

"Craig Thompsons, We remember he was just going back to his room to get a book. He wasn't really into the idea of the party. Stabbed right there, the door to his room left half open."

"Did you search the scene?" Sonya blurted, a tad bit louder than she should have.

"Well, we just transported the body."

"Tampering with a crime scene before looking at it! The son of a General, and not at least a bit careful?" She walks a step closer to him with the expression of contempt in her face. "I don't mean to be so rude, but I expected more."

"Sonya..." Margie whispered under her breath.

"Sonya?" Fred asked.

"Oh ah, it's her middle name." 

"As if your parents make you anything in a position to say that, Lady Veronica?" Tom replied.

His words struck Sonya. She took a step back with a gaping mouth. Her eyes dart about the scene as if looking for a way out and just before Tom could utter a word upon opening his mouth, she stormed into a room that conveniently happened to be to the right of the foyer.

"I didn't think she'd be one to be rather heated about this." Fred remarked after a few moments of silence. He paced around until a soft thud came from how he lay onto a soft couch.

"It's not entirely unreasonable. She ought to be angry about this." Margie gave out a sigh and took Sonya's place on the sofa.

"Tell us."

"Promise me you two won't tell a soul?"

The two men nodded for her to explain.

"Well, her father died in this murder case, you see. The criminal could not be traced as the scene of the crime was altered and cleaned. It was a quaint village and the town detective was not a very wise man. She's been quite... unhappy since then."

Tom hurriedly made his way to the door out into the crowd. This made Fred ask him what he was doing. In a solemn pace of words, Tom replied,

"I'm going to the scene. I'm sure they didn't clean it up just yet, only moved the body."

The piano playing stops and a round of applause blasted throughout the halls. A stark contrast to whatever tension it was that each and everyone of them in the foyer were harboring. Tom leaves the room, leaving only Margie and Fred behind.

"How odd, are they clapping at the tragedy that just happened here?" Margie said.

"That was an awful remark, Lady Margaret," Fred replied.

Fred and Margie shared a loud laugh amidst the death that has signaled only the beginning of this fiasco.