Nice in the time of . . . Mystery

You receive a call at 4 a.m. on your cell phone. It is a colleague from work. He tells you that you will receive a call from the Police. “Something happened! It’s weird!” He doesn’t add much, and given the hour, you think: he is just wasted or the weeks of confinement got to his head. You work at the Musée Lascaris in the old town (vieille ville) in Nice, which has been closed for weeks now. What could be wrong?

It’s 10 minutes after. You get a call from . . . the Police. The officer on the phone introduces himself and you scratch your forehead, while forcefully shutting your eyes as you struggle to wake yourself enough to remember the officer’s name. “I am sorry, I don’t really understand how this has to do with me?” you reply abruptly. The officer doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and you wonder if you offended him. - You do work at the Musée Lascaris? – Yes, but what you just referred to didn’t take place at the Musée? – You have to come to understand what I am telling you. When can you be here? – Could it wait till the morning? He hesitates before he spurts: yes, 8 too early? At the Fontaine du Soleil? I concurred and hung up.

At around 5:30 a.m. you start thinking that it was a big mistake to “wait till the morning” because you are as curious as . . . George! You are not sleeping anyways. You get out of bed walk around for a bit in your one bedroom apartment. Everything is still. You can hear your heart beating, and your body rising amidst the deafening silence. You stand next to your coffee table, with your hands on your waist, like Superman or Peter Pan. A posture of authority and affirmative ability, it doesn’t feel right and you scratch the back of your neck. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you jump in the shower and get dressed.

You eat something to not have your morning coffee on an empty stomach. The books on your night table call you but you ignore them and check your emails and the news. The picture is not clear because it’s taken in the dark and the angle doesn’t show what really happened. The title reads: “Vandalism and Venom Hit the Heart of Nice.” The article goes on about a surprise for those passing by the Fontaine du Soleil near the Place Massena because Apollo is no longer there, but someone else! This is odd!

Intrigued as you are, you grab your things and leave your apartment. It’s nearly 7 a.m. You get on the tram, and there are a few people (there were three people), but one older looking man keeps staring at you, makes eye contact, and then looks away. You get off at Massena and the man does too. You start noticing how he looks like even more, a tweed blazer, a light blue shirt, polished shoes, a matching belt and a newspaper in his hand. He walks in the same direction as you but way behind.

You forget about him as he falls out of your vision, walk past the poles of the sitting “Buddhas,” iconic of that square. They are not really Buddhas but they call them that here. You can see from the level of the Promenade du Paillon that it is not Apollo standing at the center of the Fontaine du Soleil but he is replaced. As you arrive closer to the crime scene surrounded by Police tape and a couple of officers are standing to prevent people from coming too close. There isn’t a crowd, because of the pandemic, but a few people pointing out the difference to each other as they walk past it. It is Nikaia in the middle of the fountain. Nikaia or Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, normally stands at the top of the Monument Centenaire near the Promenade des Anglais and the Jardin Albert Premier.  

The stranger reappears on the other side of the fountain where Venus is. One of the officers addresses you. You don’t really hear him because you are focusing on that man that might be following you and the fact that this statue is here; what this means? And most importantly . . . what does that have to do with you?

You hurry to the Monument Centenaire to put your anguish to rest. You notice that the sea is not calm yet from the storm of the day before. A lightening bolt lit the sky followed by a pounding thunder and sudden pouring rain. Apollo from the Fontaine du Soleil is not in Nike’s place.

Nike is often seen with Zeus, Apollo’s father and god of thunder.

Disappointed by the lack of answers; you head back to Fontaine du Soleil because it is time to meet the person who might provide some answers. The man who came off the tram with you is still standing near the fountain and you are wondering if this is the person you are supposed to meet.

A distant voice from behind you demands: “Monsieur Angelis?” – “Yes, it’s me. You are officer . . .” – “Inspector Coelho. Do you see what I meant yesterday?” You explain that you are still not sure why you need to be here. The inspector shows you a series of pictures on his phone. Shocked as you are by the pictures, you ask: “So, we are heading there now?” He simply nods and calls for his entourage to inform them of your departure from the crime scene. As you walk down the stairs and towards the Palais de Justice, you feel the rain penetrating your raincoat and boot. The grey building of the courts seems even more so amidst the moist facades of the surrounding Italian style buildings that mark Nice’s Italian historical area and old town. The cafés that are normally packed seem to be a fragment of your imagination. A reminiscent vision from other times, with a lingering imagined sound of the guitar player standing on the steps of the Palais de Justice playing Tracy Chapman’s, “Baby can I hold you tonight.”

The inspector is making calls to say that you are with him and that you are almost there. You pass by the Place Rossetti, not one person in sight. The closeness of the buildings to each other made the people living in Vieux Nice (the old town) have their windows closed. Catching a glimpse of Sainte Réparate has you giving out a sigh of relief. The 15 year-old martyr might still be watching protectively over Nice, she was said to have protected Nice during the plague.

“It is hard to understand but I think that you might give us some answers,” said the inspector. Surprised, you involuntarily let out a sarcastic laugh. The entrance to the Rue Droite, a narrow alleyway, is closed with police tape from both sides and 4 officers standing to make sure no one passes.

The entrance to the baroque style palace is the same and undamaged. You pass the entrance and in the main hall, Apollo is there with one of the baroque era violins attached to his shoulder. The violin is tiny compared to Apollo’s body. The antique violin is intact and the statue of Apollo, originally at the Fontaine du Soleil, is in one piece, which would make it almost impossible for it to pass through the door of the Palais.    

Apollo, god of light or the sun god but also of art, music, and plague, among other things, was in love with Daphne, nymph and daughter of a river god. Although he pursued Daphne out of love but she did not have the same feelings for him. Peneus, her father, changed her form to a Laurel tree upon her plea to remain an unmarried virgin and away from Apollo.

The alcove ceiling of the Palais Lascaris has a representation of Apollo’s pursuit of Daphne and her transformation into an evergreen Laurel tree.

This does not explain why and how Apollo got there? Why a violin?

You stand in front of Apollo marveling at the resilience of someone’s pursuit of meaning, love and connection.    

The inspector’s voice cuts into your imaginary scenario, “so, what do you think?”