Page 17 of One Last Regret

I nod, and he walks back to the house. I feel terrible for not being able to get through to him, but perhaps I was being too aggressive after all. Grief is not something one can rush past. I’ll allow him some time to process this on his own and then approach him later when he’s ready.

“He feels guilty, you know,” Amelia says. “We both do.”

“Why do you feel guilty?” I ask her.

She shrugs and says glumly, “We played the piece. We weren’t supposed to play that piece.”

Annie’s hate-filled eyes flash across my mind again. I blink the image away and ask, “Why would you think that playing a song would kill…” I catch myself and amend the question. “Why aren’t you supposed to play that piece?”

Amelia looks back toward the house and bites her lip. I follow her eyes and see Gabriel climbing the steps to the back door. When the door closes behind him, she turns to me and says, “You can’t tell anyone else about this, all right? Promise me.”

A chill runs down my spine, although I don't quite know why. "I promise."

Her lip trembles again, but before she can start crying, she takes a deep breath and says, “That song is cursed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Jacques Poitier cursed that song, and now anytime anyone plays it, someone close to them dies.”

I don’t respond right away. The truth is that I’m not sure how to respond. The sensible woman in me denounces the claim as rubbish, but of course I can’t say that to a grieving child, not so bluntly, at least.

And then there’s the part of me that can’t help but wonder if there’s a kernel of truth to it. I’ve encountered several legends before, and while it’s true that no voodoo curse has been proven true, there has always been an element of truth, a thread that, when pulled, unravels the true mystery behind the legend.

And while there is still no hard evidence to suggest that there is foul play in Claude’s death, there is now enough soft evidence that I feel justified in pulling that thread and finding that truth.

“Who is Jacques Poitier?” I ask.

“He was Grandpa’s biggest rival. He died before I was born, but I guess he and Dad were the two biggest jazz pianists in New Orleans a long time ago. They were both on the radio a lot, and they both worked with a lot of superstars like Louis Armstrong, B.B. King and Ray Charles.

“But Grandpa started getting bigger than Jacques, and Jacques didn’t like it. He wanted to be the best. So he challenged Grandpa to a contest, and whoever lost had to stop playing piano in New Orleans.”

“Where did you hear this story?” I ask.

“I heard bits and pieces of it from Claude, Dad and Grandma. I listened in and eventually figured it all out.”

“I see. Go on.”

She took a deep breath. “So the contest was held at the Midnight Melody. At the time, Grandpa didn’t own it. I think it was the same guys who owned the Disco Dynasty club.”

I have no idea what the Disco Dynasty club is, but it’s not really important to me, so I only say once more, “I see.”

“Anyway, they had the contest. Grandpa won with that piece. Jacques was so angry that he couldn’t play piano in New Orleans anymore, that he cursed Grandpa’s song and said that whoever played it again would lose someone close to them that night.”

“How horrible.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t a very nice guy.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. But Amelia, you and Gabriel just found that song in the attic the other night, right?”

“Actually, you found it,” she replies.

I stiffen as I recall that. ItwasI who found it. And if that music really is somehow connected to Claude’s death, then I bear the responsibility for it.

I swallow and say, “Yes. You’re right. I only mean… how do you know that this piece is the cursed piece?”

“Because Grandpa never played it again. Not until the night he died.”

“But how do you know that’s the piece he played? It was buried behind compositions from decades of work. How do you know that your grandfather played that particular one?”

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