Chapter Fourteen Of the Gymnopedist

“To be interested in Satie one must be disinterested to begin with, accept that a sound is a sound and a man is a man, give up illusions about ideas of order, expressions of sentiment, and all the rest of our inherited claptrap.”    

                          John Cage 1958

Miguel knew in order to walk the wire he had to free himself from worries. All tension needed release in order to feel the air, the pole, and the wire through his slippers. Satie should have worked more on his phobias. How could he carry a hammer in his pocket everyday for protection on his long walks through Paris and still have peace to compose. 

The yellow police tape along the front of the Cervantes home waved gently in the late morning air. An officer leaning on his police car quickly righted himself when he saw Stevie and Reggie get out of their car and walk up the driveway.

Reggie spotted a bullet hole in the front picture window. The shooter must have seen Pablo through the glass and fired at him. He wondered about the extent of Pablo’s injuries. Only one shot. 

He showed his identification badge to the young officer and started walking around towards the back of the house. When he and Stevie had come to deliver the devastating news about Miguel, Reggie had wanted to do a walk through of the house and backyard but felt it inappropriate at the time. He was determined to investigate more throughly this time. He watched Stevie show her badge and move up the front stairs to enter the house. She was much more capable of giving support to the family than he was. 

The little house was old but well cared for. In the small backyard a big garden shed, which took up half the space, had both doors open and Reggie heard clanking from inside. He walked over to find another police officer moving around items.

“Find any drug related stuff yet?” Reggie asked. 

The startled officer and hit his head on the cabinets coming up.

“Can I help you sir?” He asked.

“Back down. I’m homicide.” Reggie showed his badge again. 

“Oh, okay, ah….. there are three locked cabinets over there. I think we need a warrant to get into those.”

“Well, this is the scene of a crime. I think we will have to take a look. See if you can find some wire cutters.” Reggie took out his little notebook and started an inventory of the contents in the shed. “I’m going to make a record of what we see here.” 

“Okay, sir.”

Reggie walked the perimeter of the shed. He spotted a collection of umbrellas sitting in a ceramic pot. These were distinctly different than the umbrellas found at the fire in the Boys Club. These were brightly colored and intact. Thick wire cable was wrapped around a large wooden spool. Miguel obviously stored some wire walking equipment in the shed. 

“So, what happened here at the Cervantes house?” Reggie asked. 

“Well, at approximately 10:15 am a call came in from a distraught woman claiming someone shot her son through their front window. When we arrived just ahead of the aid car we found the boy on the living room floor with a severe gunshot wound in his right thigh. It was probably gang related.”

“Was the bullet lodged in his leg?”

“No, sir. The bullet went clear though. I overheard the medics talk about it went they lifted him onto the stretcher.”

“Did you walk the neighborhood looking for witnesses to the shooting? Anyone see the car?”

“No, sir.” The officer took off his hat and wiped his brow. “The ambulance arrived and we had to make sure they got him to the hospital to prevent him from bleeding out.”

Reggie remembered the other officer leaning on his patrol car when they arrived.

“Ah…I started checking the the perimeter of the house and looked inside here.” The young officer busied himself looking through equipment.  

“Will these cut through the locks?” 

“Let’s give it a try.” 

 Reggie anchored the cutter around the padlock and gave an intense squeeze. The metal separated and the door swung open to reveal empty shelves. 

“Here. Open the other two. What’s your name?” Reggie handed him the tool.

“Williams, sir. Officer Williams.”

Reggie noticed a white dust on the shelf of the cabinet. He took off his gloves and put his index finger into the powder, then tasted what was on his finger. It was cocaine.

“Nothing in these cabinets, sir. Why do you think they locked up empty cabinets?”

“Well, Williams, I think they sometimes contain some expensive merchandize.”

“This is a gang member’s house right?”

“Anyone check the inside of the house?” Reggie ignored Williams question and did not wait to receive an answer to his.

“I don’t think so, sir.”

Reggie walked back to the front of the house and up the front steps.

Stevie felt her left hand fingers interlaced with Rosa’s right hand. Her grip was tight and constant and Stevie wiggled her fingers a little bit to bring some blood flow back. She looked over at the dark haired woman. Her eyes were cast down and tendrils of hair escaped from a rubber band at the nape of her neck. They were sitting side by side on the couch facing the window where the bullet had careened through the glass and into her son. Stevie had witnessed many loved ones dealing with death. Most of the time she arrived at the scene ready to gather information and detach herself from the drama. She thought back to a recent case where a mother and son found their piano teacher dead in her bed. She was as compassionate as she could be, sitting around the kitchen table interviewing both of them, but in her mind she wanted to start the process of taking apart the crime scene. Being with Rosa felt different. She wanted to be a support to her and interrogating her right now seemed wrong. 

The door opened and Reggie stepped inside. She looked at him and a tear dropped from her cheek. Where did this emotion come from? Reggie came and sat on the other side of the couch. 

“Mrs. Cervantes? I’m so sorry for your loss. We need to do some examination of this room. I’m looking for the bullet that may still be here somewhere.” Reggie stood and walked to the window. He seemed to be measuring the trajectory of the bullet. Stevie watched him carefully. She should extricate herself from Rosa’s grasp but she didn’t. She saw Reggie bend over the piano behind the couch. 

“Mrs. Cervantes? I’m going to have to remove the bullet from your piano with my pocket knife.” Reggie’s voice was low and muffled.

“What did he say?” Rosa asked Stevie. 

“Detective Watts has found the bullet lodged in the piano. He needs to remove it.”

“Miguel’s piano? Someone shot Pablo and Miguel’s piano?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry.” Stevie looked over at Reggie who was carving out the hole and removing the bullet. She saw him place it in an evidence bag he carried in his jacket pocket.

“Could I take a look around, Mrs. Cervantes?” He walked around the couch to stand in front of them. “I’d like to take a look in Pablo’s room if I could.”

“All right.” Rosa looked up at Reggie with a weak smile. “His room is at the top of the stairs. Miguel’s is on the right.”

“Thank you.” Reggie gave Stevie a kind smile and turned to go through the living room and up the stairs.

I should go with him, Stevie thought. But Rosa’s grip on her hand was still as tight as before. She would stay.

The door to Pablo’s room was open. Reggie stepped in and immediately noticed the minimalist decor. Nothing on the walls. The bed made, shoes tucked under in a row. One pair of sneakers and one pair of hiking boots. The desk was clean with nothing on it. Reggie opened the closet and saw the pants hanging on one side, shirts on the other. A lightweight jacket hung on a peg on the back of the closet door. He felt inside the right pocket and found what he thought might be car keys. The left pocket had a bigger bulge. Inside that pocket Reggie found a cell phone. He touched the screen and it asked for the 6 digit passcode. He pulled another evidence bag out of his own jacket pocket and dropped the phone inside.  He quietly shut the door and turned to the door on the right. It was closed. 

The moment Reggie opened the door he was overcome with the pictures on the wall. Every white space was covered. They were organized. One wall was covered with pictures of men from the 1800’s. Some of them were seated at a piano. Reggie guessed they might be composers. On another wall were pictures of gymnastics stars. Men and women in tights were swinging from rings, leaping across the floor, and not surprising, walking on wire. The desk was covered with books and papers. Reggie picked up the book on top entitled, Understanding Gnosticism. He paged through the book and made a quick assessment that it was about an ancient religion. Underneath was a children’s book entitled The Man Who Walked Between The Towers. It had an illustration of a man’s foot on a wire high above a city. Reggie opened the drawer under the desk. A single sheet of white paper lay on top with a handwritten quote by someone named Philippe Petit. “I did not choose wire-walking. It chose me.” Underneath the paper were pictures of Miguel and Jorge. They were in a park, walking on a slack rope, and standing beneath them was George Wessott. Reggie paged through the pictures and stopped to look at one with George Wessott standing by Miguel with his arm around his shoulder.

“Reggie?” Stevie came into Miguel’s room. She stopped and took in the plethora of images. “Wow!”

“Look at these pictures of Miguel and Jorge. George Wessott, the town developer, looks a bit more chummy with these boys than I thought. I want to know what his motivations were towards these boys.”

Stevie was walking around the room looking at the pictures. “Miguel was a bright inquisitive young boy.” 

Reggie stepped over to the book on the desk. “What is Gnosticism?”

“Oh, that makes sense.” She looked at Reggie who looked back at her with a furrowed brow. “It’s a tie to Erik Satie, the composer he loved. He wrote three pieces of music entitled Gnossiennes. Scholars have different opinions about what inspired them but I think Satie was enamored with the ancient Gnostics who were a sect stemming from a Judeo Christian tradition. Gnosis means “knowledge” in Greek. Satie may have formed his own religion based on finding an emancipation from the world and a search for a higher knowledge.”

“This kid could easily have gotten messed up mentally by all this weird information.” 

“He was just a curious kid. I guess he had a lot more in his life than his cell phone.”

Stevie set the book back on the desk. “Let’s go to the hospital and find out if we can talk to Pablo. I’d like to take Rosa with us. She needs to be with him.”

Reggie scratched his neck. How was he going to tell her that she was too emotionally involved? The Highland Park Police were letting a lot fall through the cracks. He wanted to be thorough.

“We need a forensics team over here to go over the house, especially in the back shed where I found a dusting of cocaine in a cabinet. I suppose taking Pablo’s mother to the hospital would allow a more through search.”

Reggie reached into his pocket and pulled out the evidence bag. “Pablo’s phone. Maybe we can get the name of a dealer. Go ahead and take Rosa to the car. I’ll let the two officers prepare for the Forensics team and instruct them to do door to door canvasing to see if anyone has information about the shooting.”

                          Back To Table Of Contents

Chapter Thirteen Of The Gymnopedist

 “Craftsmanship is often superior to subject matter. Do not forget that the melody is the idea, the outline; as much as it is the form and the subject matter of a work. The harmony is an illumination, an exhibition of the object, it’s reflection.” 

   Satie The Composer by Robert Orledge

There is an other worldly knowing. Miguel felt it when he played music that transcended space and time. Maybe he could show his brother Pablo another way to see the world. At times it seemed impossible that he could be Pablo’s brother. How could they share the same blood and be so different?

 George Wessott sat waiting on a park bench. Even this early in the morning it was already seventy five degrees. He watched a homeless man crawl out of a torn sleeping bag across the ravine. The man’s hair was matted to his head with perspiration. It made George’s skin crawl to see him light up a joint while still sitting in the sleeping bag. He watched while the man reached for a plastic grocery bag, pulled out a can of beer, and chugged the whole thing down in one gulp. Didn’t these people have any common sense at all? This park was once a place for kids to play but now parents felt unsafe bringing their children and letting them run around the swings and climbing equipment.  At the next city council meeting he would remind the council that this park needed an overhaul. It could start with the store cleaning up their dumpsters next to the park. A train of broken grocery carts surrounded metal garbage containers streaked with oily grime. Boxes and smashed cans lay on their side, some rolling under the carts.

George caught sight of Jorge and Juan coming through the trees. It was before 7 o’clock in the morning. He hoped to avoid anyone witnessing their meeting. At first he thought one of the boys was Miguel but then remembered that it couldn’t be. Both boys shuffled through the dry leaves on the ground. Juan, taller and leaner, was just ahead of Jorge, who had hands pushed deep into his jean pockets. Jorge was round shouldered and looked mostly at his feet. This was not the boy who he coached on the rings and balance beam. Nor could he now imagine him up on a wire, balancing with his upper torso straight and tall. Miguel and Jorge should have listened to him when they came up with the crazy idea to walk between the bell towers. They obviously were not ready to make such a risky walk. 

The boys approached and nodded their heads in greeting. They sat down on the opposite end of the bench. 

“I was glad to hear that you were released from the juvenile detention center. How are you doing?” George said moving a little closer and lowering his voice.

The boys both shrugged their shoulders. Jorge looked down at the ground and moved some dirt around with his foot. 

“I’m not supposed to be out of my house.” Jorge mumbled, his head still looking down.

Juan looked George in the eyes. “What do you want?”

“Well, I’m checking on you and seeing if you guys are alright after the fire.”

“What fire are you talking about?” Juan said squinting as the sun streamed upon his face.

“Come on! I know the Cervantes gang torched your house and burned up the stash of drugs you were hiding overnight.” George wanted to ignite a desire inside of these two boys to retaliate. “When you strike back make sure you do it on their turf. Don’t do anything east of 32^nd street.”

Their eyes did not light up as George had hoped. Where was the hate in these boys?

Juan stood up and pulled at Jorge’s jacket. 

“You can go to hell, Wessott. We ain’t doing what you want.” 

The boys moved away from the bench leaving George frustrated. He watched them walk out of the park and disappear. Well, if they didn’t act maybe he could motivate them with direct action from an unknown party. He had learned that much while training them in wire walking. When they didn’t want to try something more difficult he dangled a little surprise in front of them. It really didn’t matter who moved against the Cervantes gang as long as the Gonzales gang got blamed. That’s what people wanted; someone to blame.

Stevie put the electric kettle on and opened the cupboard to get her favorite mug. It was handmade by a local artisan who used bright color stripes and small black dots on all her pottery. She owned a set of matching plates and cups which she stored in her mother’s cabinet. It made her feel part ownership in the a kitchen. Living with her widowed mother wasn’t a permanent situation but Stevie felt little motivation to move out on her own. There was no tension between them, just some anxiety on her mother’s part about her job as a police detective. Grabbing a herbal mint teabag she dropped it into her cup and filled it with boiling water. 

Reggie was picking her up at 7:00 and she still needed to get dressed. She hoped to talk to her mother before leaving this morning. She didn’t have time to answer the text she received about Rosa’s fears. When she returned home her mother was out and Stevie was too tired to wait for her return. While her bagel was toasting she climbed the stairs to her room and listened at her mother’s door. It was quiet.

Today was a day for a loose dress and sandals. She was tired of her cotton jacket, blouse, and slacks as work clothes. The heat was miserable and her blouse was usually damp and sticky by mid-day. Slipping her sleeveless dress over her head, she searched for her shoes on the floor of her closet. While she shoved her feet into the red sandals she opened a drawer and pulled out a lacy, red knitted shawl. The shawl was far too feminine for work but it would be nice to have something to wrap around herself while working in the air-conditioned office. Was she thinking of her comfort or was she thinking about Reggie’s response? Pushing that idea aside she grabbed her backpack and listened again when she went past her mother’s door. It was still quiet. 

Stevie heard a tapping downstairs on the back door and marveled how Reggie was always on time. If he erred it was that he came too early. She skipped down the last stairs and stopped to see him waiting outside, his forehead leaning on the leaded glass door. 

The glass distorted his features but she could tell he was resting his head on the door, thinking. He looked up before she got there to open it. His smile was simply charming. Why hadn’t she noticed how the dimples in his cheeks curved up. She opened the door.

“Hey!” Reggie stopped and took a long look at Stevie from head to toe. “Wow!” 

Stevie nervously pulled the shawl off the backpack and wrapped it around herself. Reggie held up a thermos bottle in front of her face and smiled. 

“Can I sit at your table a few minutes?” He pulled out a chair and slipped into it. Opening his thermos and unscrewing the lid, he poured hot coffee into the cup at the top. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Stevie brought her bagel and tea over to the table and sat down across from Reggie. He watched her closely while she slathered cream cheese on the first side. Was he looking at her dress or was he lusting over her breakfast? Without a word she took her napkin and placed the half bagel with the cream cheese on it and pushed it over to Reggie. He grinned.

“So why couldn’t you sleep?” Stevie asked.

“This case is driving me nuts. We are here without any authority under the leadership of a man who clearly doesn’t value our input. Then we find that stuff on Jay’s computer. Aren’t you feeling frustrated, too?”

 In three bites Reggie finished off the bagel. Without waiting for Stevie to answer he continued.

“So according to the report, Mullins was reprimanded for his actions in a gang related case several years ago. He spent two months on paid leave. Shall we ask more questions about this incident?”

Stevie looked down at her own half bagel and slowly passed it across to Reggie. 

“I don’t think we should talk to anyone at the precinct.” Stevie said. “They are pretty closed off to us in general. I made some notes on one more  important item I read on Jay’s computer.” Stevie stood to get another bagel. She dropped it into the toaster and turned to look at Reggie. “Mullin’s son was killed in drug bust.”

“What? Hmm…that explains a few things.” 

Stevie took the bagel out of the toaster and brought it over to the kitchen table. “He was the dealer.” 

Stevie waited for this tidbit of information to sink in. “That explains his hate for the drug activity in Highland Park and the closed mindedness he has about considering anyone else in Miguel’s death.” Stevie continued.

“Did the report mention which gangs were involved?” Reggie gently rubbed his hands together above the table to shake off the bagel crumbs.

“Most of those arrested were in the Cervantes gang. That’s why he wants Miguels death to be gang retribution. Mullins probably wants these two gangs wiped out of Highland Park.” Stevie tapped the screen of her phone to check the time. They needed to get to the precinct soon.

“After the meeting this morning are we going to pay a visit to George Wessott?” Stevie asked.

Just as Stevie asked the question both of their phones starting ringing. Reggie opened the back kitchen door and stepped onto the porch while Stevie answered her own phone.

The call came from the precinct. There was a reported shooting at the Cervantes house. An ambulance was taking someone away. She and Reggie were being asked to investigate. 

Stevie looked out through the kitchen door and saw that Reggie was ending his phone call.

“What is happening Stevie?”

 Stevie turned around to see Angelika Hanson standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at her daughter’s concerned face. Her robe wrapped tightly around her body.

 “Mother….”

“It’s Rosa isn’t it?”

“Mother, I don’t know for sure what has happened. Reggie and I are going to investigate.” Stevie gathered her mother into her arms and held her close. Her mother murmured something in her ear.

“Have you figured out the connection between Miguel and Jorge? Did you look up their birth certificates?”

Stevie pulled away from her mother. She held her at arms length looking into her eyes and gently rubbing her hands over the soft robe.

“What are we going to find out?” 

“Just do it, Stevie. I can’t say anymore.” Angelika brushed a loose curl from Stevie’e brow. “Aren’t you dressed pretty today?”

Stevie snarled and charged up the steps to her room to change her clothes.

                                      Go To Chapter 14

Hospitality

“Hospitality means primarily the creation of free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life

In a world where we meet many differing opinions on a daily basis coming into a hospitable environment where there is space to come to understanding is wonderful.

Recently at a family reunion I watched as my brother gently and carefully opened up his home to 60+ family members with so many differing opinions, religious views, and political leanings.

He captured us by telling stories of our ancestors. The stories were bittersweet, with strong emotion. When he had to wait for his own emotion to pass and then keep going, I looked around the large room. Teenagers were enthralled. Adults were wiping away tears, and little children cuddled up extra close to their parents. By inviting us into his home, feeding us with countless dishes, and by showing us his vulnerability, he exhibited the hospitality I yearn to emulate. Everyone left their dividing opinions at the door.

Chapter Eleven of The Gymnopédist

Chapter Eleven

It was the tragic fate of Satie to be a humorous composer who takes his fun desperately seriously. He did his musical fooling with the solemn air of fulfilling a momentous artistic mission, and so spoilt the joke.

   Manchester Guardian July 6,1926

Miguel wondered if George would show up to see the walk. He seemed less than enthused with his idea of walking from tower to tower in Highland Park. That seemed odd to Miguel because George was always suggesting more daring feats. When Jorge backed off from Miguel’s ideas George would jump in with agreement. Yes, walk across the river in Highland park from the tops of two trees. But, the tower walk was not to his liking. Oh well, he didn’t need George to support him anymore. He was ready.

Alex Douglas came into work very early the next day. He cautiously unlocked the front door wishing that the fire had been a dream. But the smoke smell brought him back to the reality that it happened and he had given his consent. What had he been thinking? He was in agreement that the gang involvement with the Boys Club was growing and that he wanted them out of his programs but now he wondered if “the boss” could really guarantee that outcome. 

He walked down the hall checking to see if anyone had trespassed into the building through the burned out wall. Everything looked the same as it was yesterday when the police had come again. The new detectives worried him. They were too interested in Boys’ Club financial business. 

He unlocked his office door and opened the two small windows along the top of the room. He could see the trees moving very gently outside and that brought a little breeze through the screen. He dropped his backpack and sat down with feet on the desk. He looked through his phone contacts and stopped at the name “Boss”. He touched the phone number and waited while it rang.

“Douglas? Why are you calling me?” The voice was low and strained.

“We have some trouble. Yesterday two detectives came by to check out the building.” Alex changed his right foot over his left, feeling muscle tension from extending his legs up onto the desk.

“What detectives?” 

“A man and a woman who was very pushy. I thought you told me the fire investigation was over.” He lifted his legs off the desk and turned towards the breeze coming from above.

“What did they want to know?” 

“They wanted the financial records.”

“God damn, interfering idiots. What did you say?”

“I told them they would need a warrant.” Alex listened for a response. The other end was silent. “Are you there?”

“Damn, I’m going to have to run interference. They won’t get the warrant.”

“Okay, are you sure?” Alex was standing now and pacing in his little office.

“Of course I’m sure, you idiot. And don’t call me again at this number. I’ll contact you.” 

Alex looked at his screen and saw that the call was terminated. The black screen of his phone reminded him to get moving. He needed to act on his own behalf before the police blamed him for the fire and whatever else they were going to pin on him. He was innocent. But, it could look like he was guilty of accepting bribes and purposely destroying property to hide incriminating evidence. He needed to check in with George about what he knew about Miguel’s fall from the Highland Park towers. Should he shred some of the documents from contributors? Alex spent the morning looking through the filing cabinets and sorting files. He was determined to protect his reputation.

Stevie arrived at the Highland Park Police Precinct early. She sat on top of a long table in the back of the room. The sun streamed into the room with a vengeance. Four rectangular tables with cushioned chairs faced a podium. Two large white boards hung behind the podium. This room was so much more pleasant than the conference room in Seattle.  Stevie scanned the faces. Reggie was not there yet. Several detectives chatted at the coffee maker off to the side. White cartons of donuts lined up by the coffee cups. Her mind wandered to the night before. The kiss was unexpected. Unexpected but not rejected. She smiled remembering his gentleness. How should she react when Reggie arrived?

Slowly more precinct detectives came in and migrated to the coffee machine. No one greeted her or even gave her eye contact. She and Reggie had fulfilled their assignment to contact the Boys Club manger. This morning she intended to push for a warrant so they could look through the records.

“Morning, Dangerfield.” Detective Mullins came up behind Stevie. He appeared from the other side of the room. “Are you ready to report on your visit to the Boys Club?”

“Yes, sir!” She awkwardly shifted towards the edge of the table and felt the table lift off the ground ever so slightly.

“There’s your side kick now.” Mullins pointed his coffee towards the door as Reggie entered the room. Stevie’s hands felt clammy as she looked towards him. Reggie stared at her steadily with a hint of a smile, then made eye contact with Mullins. He walked towards them and extended his hand. 

“Good morning, sir.” Reggie sat down next to Stevie on the table. His hand made contact with Stevie’s and he placed his pinky finger on top of her knuckles and brushed over them. Stevie pulled her hand away and looked around to see if anyone was watching.

 “Come up to the front, Detectives. We are interested in hearing your report.”

 She sat down closer to the front of the room and Detective Mullins started the meeting.

“Good morning everyone. Let’s get right into the developments on the Cervantes gang case. Symonds, where is Jorge Gonzales right now?”

Symonds stood and came to the front of the room. Stevie saw his discomfort standing before his squad in the way Symonds ran his fingers along the inside of his shirt collar. Mullins was a bully and she guessed this detective was always ready to defend his actions.

“Sir, he is at home, but we have a tail on his house and his older brother Juan.” Stevie saw him shift uneasily from one foot to the other. “We brought Pablo Cervantes in for questioning. He was hostile and uncooperative but he claims to be ignorant of his younger brothers wire walking.”

“Does he believe the Gonzales gang tampered with his brothers equipment?” Mullins asked.

“He refused to answer those questions.” Stevie noticed Symonds paging through his notebook. “We do have some informations back from the tech team after they examined the video that Jorge took just before the fall. The techs reversed the color values and noticed a figure behind Miguel just at the top of the stairway on the bell tower platform. The figure was wearing a baseball type hat with a white Olympics insignia. The rings stood out from the dark hat when they changed the colors.”

A rustle of muffled voices made Stevie glance around the room. Stevie waited to see if any of the detectives made the connection to the Olympic insignia. She looked over at Reggie. He met her glance and nodded his head that he knew who might wear an Olympics hat.

“Okay? Who might this mystery person in the shadows be?” Mullins asked.

“It could be anyone. These baseball hats are part of every teenagers uniform, especially gang members.” The comment came from an older detective named Spencer. “This information tells us that the compromised equipment happened on site, that morning. 

“Has anyone picked up a picture of someone at the crime scene wearing this hat?” Mullins asked the question as a challenge. Stevie shifted her weight and put her hands under her sit bones. She wanted to speak up but she also wanted to wait. She saw Reggie stand.

“Detective Mullins, when we interviewed Jorge at the juvenile detention center we questioned him about how he and Miguel got involved in wire walking.” Reggie paused.

“Well, make your point Watts, we haven’t got all day.” Mullins said.

“He told us that Alex Douglas tried out for the U. S. Olympic gymnastics team.”

“Alex Douglas at the Boys Club?” Mullins asked. “I don’t believe he would hurt one of his boys. That institution has an important place in the community there.” 

“Jorge also talked of a man named George who did the wire walking with the boys. He was also an experienced gymnast. My partner and I had an interview with Alex Douglas yesterday at the Club. He refused us access to his documents. I would like to get a warrant and take a look at their financial records. I have a gut feeling that there might be some incriminating evidence there.”

“I doubt that.” Mullins touched his head as if he had a headache. “Spencer, you look into that please. We will have our Seattle elite here find George the wire walker and see if he wears an olympic hat.” Quiet laughter filled the room. Mullins turned his back on Reggie and continued talking to the group.

“Okay, people. We again need to interview everyone there the morning of the murder. Did anyone see someone with a baseball hat at the scene. Symonds, check surveillance video around the towers and several blocks in all directions. Atkinson, go back to the tower and check for other evidence of metal filings or anything that might tell us more about how someone tampered with the wire that Miguel walked on. Let’s get to work, folks.”

Stevie stayed in her seat. This did not go the way she expected. Why did Mullins take them off the Boys Club angle? She looked over at Reggie and he also sat very still looking straight ahead. 

“This investigation feels weird Stevie. I can’t help thinking we don’t have all the facts.” His voice became more quiet. “Why did the Highland Park Police Chief send for us? Who are we really here to investigate?”

      Go To Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve of The Gymnopédist

Chapter Twelve 

Most probably, however he was writing that piece for piano, and it would become part of a haphazardly assembled output for the instrument, around eight hours of published music, which is the principle part of Satie’s legacy to us. Like the man, this body of work is far more varied and original and weird and important now than it might appear on first acquaintance.

                                      “The Velvet Gentleman” Pianist No. 90

Miguel woke up unsettled. His mind was playing the haunting notes of the piece “Vexations” by Satie. The single notes in a minor key kept going around his head. Then the single notes joined a minor fourth and marched on dramatically. Mrs. Hanson did not like this piece but Miguel played it as a warm up piece at every lesson. It was like armor. He played it to protect himself.

Reggie and Stevie walked out of the conference room at the Highland Police Precinct. Stevie stayed silent all the way out of the building. Once they stepped outside into the rising temperatures she looked over at Reggie. 

 “What do we do now?” She said. 

 “Follow orders and find George Wassott.” Reggie took out his sunglasses and settled them above his nose. “And, start our own little inquiry into the life of Detective Bart Mullins.” He said.

“I agree. But we can’t do it here. What do you think of driving north and visiting Jay?” Stevie was very fond of Jay, the computer whiz at the Seattle Police Precinct. He always seemed to be able to read Stevie’s mind and come up with the informations she needed. For a short, balding man without much physical attractiveness he was God’s gift to flummoxed detectives. She remembered when they were investigating the Judith Whitesides murder it was Jay’s work on the surveillance videos from the Washington ferry that made the positive identification of Judith’s murderer. 

“What do you think of getting more information from Captain Monson in Seattle about the Highland Park Police Chief’s request to have us transferred here?” Reggie asked.

“He didn’t give us an explanation when he gave us the assignment. I don’t know what he is willing to add. But, it is worth a try.” Stevie said.

When they were both settled into Reggie’s vehicle and she had buckled her seatbelt, Reggie asked, “Are we alright?”

Stevie looked over at his earnest face and wondered what he was really asking. Was the kiss going to change their relationship? 

The night sky was overcast. As Pablo walked with his hooded jacket pulled tightly around his face, he looked carefully in all directions. His job would have been easier had the police kept Jorge locked up. Then there would have been someone to blame. But things were never easy for Pablo. He was the son who had to do the dirty work. While Miguel took piano lessons, Pablo carried out orders from above. While Miguel climbed ropes and walked on wire, Pablo set fires, stole cars, picked up shipments in the middle of the night.————Things happened to him and all in all he felt he wasn’t to blame. A while back he decided not to choose what he wanted in life. If it was his choice then it was his fault. He managed what came his way. Shit happened everyday.

The night air was humid and lights were out in the Gonzales house. He moved slowly and carefully. Pablo was told that a drug shipment had been delivered earlier today and hidden in the Gonzales garage for a short time. Why wasn’t anyone guarding the drugs? He stopped to listen. If he saw someone they would maybe have a gun and he wasn’t carrying. But the Gonzales people were stupid. 

He knew where he would light the fire from watching the neighborhood the night before. Dried bushes and vines surrounded the garage. With the hot weather the brush would go up in flames immediately.  Juan would know that the Cervantes brotherhood was moving against him.

The garage was barely standing. Parts of the roof lay on the ground. No one bothered to gather them. The siding was ripped off on the side facing away from the house. He saw that the door was barred and locked with several chains. He didn’t need to break in, just let the walls fall after the fire ate up the wood. Taking a lighter from his back pocket he touched the long yellow stalks. The flames licked up the dry leaves and started toward the grass. He backed away into the alley behind the house. It wasn’t going to take long before the fire reached the inside walls. Should he wait and watch? No, he wasn’t really interested in the outcome. He had done what they asked, now things would just happen as they should. In the morning he would hear the news. His car was parked five blocks away. He pushed his hands into his jean pockets and pulled the hood even tighter around his face.

The olive drab of the Seattle Police Precinct was still dull and cheerless in the morning but familiar. Reggie looked over the large open room. Computer monitors were flickering on several desks giving a light show in the darkened room. With the thermometer rising to triple digits all sun was blocked in the large room. He recognized Jay, their favorite tech nerd, a little later than Stevie. She was already half way across the room, smiling with a welcome that let the sun flood in. Reggie didn’t remember Stevie having a thing for Jay in the past. By the time he arrived at the desk Jay was entering in the name George Wassot into his terminal. 

“So who is this guy?” Jay asked.

“He is a mentor of sorts to a young boy who died when he fell from a high wire.” Stevie answered. 

“Well he wasn’t hard to find. George Wassott is a CEO of a high profile development company in Highland Park. Isn’t that where you are working right now?”

 Reggie pulled out his notepaper. He liked taking paper notes instead of using his phone. Looking at Jay’s screen he copied down the phone number for the company called Regrowth Evolution.

“Can you find a page giving personal information on this guy?” Reggie asked. An idea was forming in his head. What kind of businesses were being  courted to come to Highland Park?

“Here is a bio on each of the company officers.” Jay scrolled over the pictures until they reached George Wassott. 

  “Look, there is a reference to his Olympic Gymnastic involvement. He was on the 2012 team but did not go to London with them. He was an individual all round competitor. He got his MBA in 2016. Then was hired by Regrowth Evolution specifically to revitalize the Highland Park business community. Does that help?” Jay asked.

“ It does, Jay” Stevie said. She turned to look at Reggie, raising her eyebrows. “What are you thinking?” 

“Well, here is what I see.” He pulled up a chair and sat down across from Jay leaving Stevie to stand behind, looking over Jay’s shoulder at the computer. “We have two rival gangs active in Highland Park. One lead detective who seems bent on getting rid of them. A Boys Club who provide physical activities for many of the boys who are rumored to be gang involved. A volunteer at the Boy’s Club who is very motivated to bring new business and upscale families to this fair city. What motivates the adults more, helping youth stay out of trouble or getting rid of the trouble so that Highland Park attracts new residents?”

“So what are the two of you doing for that police department?” Jay asked.

Ignoring Jay’s question Stevie put a hand on his shoulder. “Could you do a background check on Bart Mullins?” She asked.

“Who is he?” Jay asked.

Stevie looked over at Reggie and she didn’t answer that question either. 

Jay pecked on the keys and suddenly pushed his chair back and dropped his hands off the keys.

“Wait a minute. This is the detective you mentioned.” Jay stood and looked at both of them. “I don’t want to get involved in giving you information on a fellow officer. I’m going for coffee.”

Reggie watched as Jay left the room. He looked back at the computer which Jay had left open. Deftly Stevie slipped into Jay’s chair and starting looking through the open windows. 

Angelika Hanson, Stevie’s mother, was working from from home. She sat at her Steinway Grand, one hand writing in a binder and the other hand repeating a difficult passage of music. She was taking practice notes on a Sonata her student was learning. This was an early Beethoven Sonata which would have been just right for Miguel……had he lived. Grief seized her heart  and stopped her breathing. The silly piece ‘Vexations’ came to mind. It was almost as if Miguel felt his mortality was coming to an end. Angelika pushed the morose music from her mind and came back to Beethoven. As she tried several combinations of tricky fingering she became aware of the sounds of Rosa vacuuming upstairs. The machine hit the wall over and over again. Something was wrong. Rosa always cleaned her home without bringing any attention to herself. The vacuum switched off and peace returned. Angelika brusquely closed the binder and dropped the lid to her piano. She got up to close the windows in the music room to keep the heat from drifting through. A sniffling sound followed by a deep inhale of breath caught Angelika’s attention. She walked out of the music room, through the living room, and into the kitchen. The sound came again from the stairs and Angelika stood at the bottom and looked up to see Rosa awash in tears sitting at the top. 

“Rosa?”

Her cleaning woman did not answer. Angelika sat down and settled her back against the wall on a step below.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Hanson. I have a deep sorrow and need to stop for a few minutes.” 

“That’s fine. I have a deep sorrow today too. I am thinking of Miguel. Are you?” Rosa was a private woman who rarely confided her problems. Losing Miguel was still fresh and this was one of the first days she had returned to work. Angelika reached up to gently touch her knee.

“Maria Gonzales called me this morning and told me that someone burned down their garage last night. She thinks Pablo is at fault. She is worried about more trouble. For me. Someone could burn down my house.”

Angelika took her two hands which fluttered in the air like scared birds.

“Does the police know what is going on?”

“They will do nothing. They never have when our families go to war. The police want us to kill each other so that they don’t have to.” 

Angelika didn’t know what to say. This was a world she didn’t understand. 

“How long have your families been feuding?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how long has this fighting been going on in Highland Park?”

“Since both of our husbands started bringing drugs from Mexico.” Rosa stopped abruptly. “I shouldn’t talk about it. I will get back to work.” 

She stood and climbed up the rest of the stairs. Angelika waited until she heard the vacuum going again. She pulled her phone from her pants pocket and sent a text to Stevie.

‘Rosa is worried the Gonzales gang is targeting her house. Do you know what is going on?’

                               Go To Chapter 13

Practice

My progress on the piano and my motivation to practice increased dramatically when I caught a vision of my potential. 

Sheri L. Dew 

As a piano teacher you might guess that this word is often spoken at my house. 

It is.

I was told at age 8 that I would be serving others with my music the rest of my life. At that time that pronouncement sounded silly. I could barely play with two hands and I didn't like to practice.

            

But 57 years later I am at the piano everyday. I still have to practice when I am playing for others. The above video required going into the studio with many retakes. I was part of a team trying to share this inspirational message. 

There is peace in practice. 

The peace I am talking about has to do with enough repetition to put the learning into our body. It is never enough to know something with our mind. Knowing with our heart is certainly another step forward. But, knowing something inside our muscles and sinews, that is a deep knowing. We get that from practice. 

Opportunity

Today is our 45th Anniversary

So, I'm taking the opportunity to write about marriage. 

I was an optimistic, idealistic, naive girl when I got married. Not earth shattering news, at 21 years old we are all of those things. I wanted someone I could talk to about everything. 

What I hadn't considered fully was that although we could talk about everything we didn't necessarily see through the same lenses.

Luckily I married someone who gave much attention to how he viewed the world. He thought through his decisions carefully and then committed to those views. 

On the other hand, I vacillated more about what I thought and felt. I changed my mind frequently. He was patient with that because his North Star was always in view.

In 45 years we have communicated everyday and of course disagreed often. There are some views that I just can't understand. Those topics come up for review often. 

He has never tried to manipulate me or squash my interest in something. He supports the things I love even when he has less interest. 

  As I went through pictures this morning I realized that I haven't taken enough of us alone together. There are individual shots and so many shots with us and a child or grandchild. 

  Today I honor the two of us and our covenant to love each other because God gifted us the opportunity to be one before him and with him.