GTP-Chapter 1

It was beautiful. It was unlike anything Carrie had ever seen. The stage at the front of the room was a massive wooden structure polished to perfection. The deep red curtains hung parted to each side revealing the size of the stage even more. The lights overhead shone brightly, illuminating the front half of the room in a warm, inviting glow. An enormous grand piano sat stage right waiting for crew members to place it center stage before today’s rehearsal.

Carrie walked toward the stage looking all around her, mesmerized by the exquisite décor of the concert hall. The white walls were trimmed in gold with patterns across them. Cameras were visible from every angle. The balcony completed the picture with its own set of curtains, gold trim, and box seats off to each side. She climbed up to the stage, gazed out at the empty room, and pictured herself in front of a full house. The mere thought of it sent chills down her spine.

The concert hall’s owner, Mr. Ross Riley, had attended her senior recital at Berklee College of Music in the spring and liked it so much he invited her to come to San Francisco to perform. He had even paid for her flight and put her up in the fanciest hotel she had ever seen. She was playing as part of a show with another up-and-coming pianist like herself, named Drake Anderson. She was so excited, and to be standing in the hall intensified that excitement even more.

Carrie had always dreamed of playing in a concert hall as grand as this one. She remembered performing recitals in her living room for her parents as a kid. She had always pictured herself standing in this exact spot, preparing to perform fabulous classical works in front of thousands. Playing the piano was Carrie’s passion. It was her life. Even though the room was completely silent, she could hear the chords and notes of Debussy’s Clair de Lune ringing through the room. She could hear the roar of the audience’s applause in her head and acknowledged their approval with a bow.

“Hey,” a voice called.

Carrie looked up to see a man in a crisp white shirt and black overcoat coming toward her. “What are you doing in here?” the man asked.

Carrie smiled, feeling a little sheepish. “I’m Carrie Jones. I’m supposed to be performing here this week. Mr. Riley told me to come by today to rehearse if I wanted. He said the other pianist would be here too,” she said. “I was just taking a look around. This place is absolutely amazing,”

“Thank you,” the man said stiffly. “However, Mr. Riley isn’t here right now.”

“Where is he?” Carrie asked.

“He went on vacation with his family,” the man said. “He did say that you and another man would be here for the show this week.”

“Great,” Carrie said. “Do you mind if I try out the piano?”

“Actually, I need you to come with me please. The hall is going to be closed for investigation,” the man said.

“Closed for investigation? Why?” Carrie asked.

“Some mysterious things have been going on since Mr. Riley left,” the man said. “Things have been disappearing. If the investigators don’t get to the bottom of this soon, there may not be a show.”