Don Gutteridge - Vital Secrets

“Thank you. Because, you see, I did nothing of the sort.”

“But Beasley and Armstrong must have seen you. There wasn’t time for you to hear the cry, realize its significance, pick up the candlestick, stumble into Tessa’s room, strike Merriwether down, discover Hilliard, draw his sword, stab Merriwether, decide to set up the young lothario as the murderer, find something to dip into Merriwether’s spouting blood, smear Rick’s jacket, breeches, hands, and boots, pick up the dropped candlestick, and flee back to your room. All of this in two minutes? No.”

“The reason you believed their testimony was because all of them were telling the truth. What they say they saw is what they did see.” She said this proudly, and still there was a twinkle of amusement in her steady gaze.

“It is not possible.”

“Well, let me tell you what was possible and what did happen. More sherry?”

Marc shook his head. Mrs. Thedford leaned forward again, allowing the top of her robe to slip open several inches. She didn’t appear to notice, however, for she had suddenly become quite serious, narrowing her gaze and appearing to visualize the actions as she narrated them.

“I knew I would lose Tessa someday. Men were increasingly attracted to her, and I could see her trying out various responses to their overtures. She never stopped loving me, never left my bed except when it was imprudent not to. I’m sure you’re worldly enough to realize that our love is considered by most to be unnatural.”

“But you were also her mentor,” Marc protested. “She must have been terribly confused. And as the older adult, you bore full responsibility for the … the situation.”

“Again, you are right, and wise beyond your years. But, you see, I, too, was confused. Tessa was not the first woman I had loved, and I knew when she came to me that I should not approach her on those terms. She needed a mother.” Her eyes looked away. “All children do.” She covered her momentary distress by refilling her sherry glass from the decanter beside her on the floor.

“You lost your own mother when you were very young?”

“I never knew her. Still, I missed her. Odd, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Marc said, having known such a feeling himself.

“Ultimately, we became … involved, and though I tried several times to end it, Tess wouldn’t hear of it and I was miserable at the thought. We convinced ourselves it was right.”

“Surely you were risking everything, the company, the-”

“Perhaps. But I was determined that Tessa not become entangled with any other members of the troupe. So when I saw Jason pursuing her, I read him the riot act. And for a while everything was fine, until Tessa-”

“Started showing an interest in him.”

“Yes. You saw for yourself, though, on Monday afternoon how she used the attraction to get back at me because I refused to favour her over Thea in the distribution of parts. She is too young to understand the difference between personal and artistic decisions. Besides which, Thea has been a loyal member of the company and a good friend since joining it.”

“You planned to help her through her pregnancy?”

The smile returned briefly. “My, you are good at this detecting business. Thea came to me after Jason’s death. If only she’d come sooner.”

“You might have got them safely married?”

“Something like that.”

“It must have been you who talked her out of killing herself after his death.”

“I certainly tried. Anyway, when I saw Tessa and Ensign Hilliard hitting it off so well, I was not only not concerned, I was actually pleased. I was sure he would take her in the way of a man-she was shamelessly testing her seduction techniques on him-and that she would then have some better notion about that sort of love, with the certainty that we would be on our way to Detroit by week’s end and any emotional connection would be broken permanently.”

“You were willing to let Tessa make a choice? Was that not dangerous for you? You might have lost her affection for good.”

“That is true, and I thought I was strong enough to carry it off. I even pictured myself as noble and self-sacrificing, a mother letting the child choose the world over her.” Her face clouded over. “But, alas, I was not that brave. When Tessa and Hilliard went into her room, I assumed the worst, and braced for it. I went to my bedroom, where I could not possibly be privy to any of the goings-on through the wall. I even put my infamous earplugs in. But not for long. Soon I found myself standing, naked and fearful, right over there with my ear pressed to the wallpaper. I could hear their giggling and the clink of glasses. Then nothing for a long time. I became alarmed. Before I could make up my mind what to do-perhaps get dressed and try a discreet rap on their door-I heard Tessa’s cry. It wasn’t a scream. It was a sharp yelp of surprise and physical pain. That’s all. But I knew what it meant.” At last she looked away, abashed.

Marc understood at last how the crime had been accomplished. “There were two cries, weren’t there? The first one heard only by you.”

She swung her head around to face him, the glorious ropes of her sandy hair swinging sensuously in the variable light. She was smiling through a scrim of tears. “Ah, you are far too young to be so clever. You must come from exceptional stock.”

Marc was flattered, unaccountably, but pressed on. “That’s how you and you alone were able to get down to that room, kill Merriwether, entrap Hilliard, and get back here.”

“That’s right. Of course, I had no conception of what was actually going on in there, you understand. I was out of my mind with jealousy and anger at Tessa and at my own foolish weakness: I simply ran out into the hall without a stitch on, the candlestick in my hand. I just assumed that it was the soldier on top of her. Then I was shocked to see the candlestick suddenly smeared with blood and hair, even more to see Jason on the floor, staring up and dazed, his eyes slowly closing. I had hit him a savage blow, but had no memory of it.

“It must have taken me a minute or so to comprehend what I had done. Then the rage took hold, pure and unstoppable. The violator was not young Hilliard, whose amorous pawings I could understand, but Jason Merriwether, a man to whom I had given a second life. I put my trust in him, was about to make him a partner in the Bowery Theatre. And I had specifically warned him away from Tessa. You can’t imagine how betrayed I felt. In that moment, I hated all men, monsters who had done nothing but betray me all my adult life. I saw the gleam on the sword, I don’t think I even knew it was Hill-iard’s, but I pulled it out, walked over to Jason, and plunged it through the son-of-a-bitch’s heart.”

The recollection of that grotesque act had brought sweat to her brow and a tremble to her lip. In a quieter tone she continued. “The blood began spouting everywhere, and I instinctively jumped aside. Some splattered me, but I was naked, so no harm done. I went over to check on Tessa, but I was shaking so hard by then I could not properly detect her pulse. She began breathing regularly with that little-girl snore I know so well. I was sure now that she was all right, and had seen nothing. I took a large handkerchief of hers and dipped it in Jason’s blood and smeared it on Hilliard-it took several trips to soak his uniform. And I knew, as you said, how it would go when the two of them were discovered. Then I came back here, unseen.”

“That explains why I could find no evidence of blood being splattered on Rick’s tunic: you smeared it with a cloth. And there was a set of boot-prints approaching the body because Rick never did stagger back to the settee. You or Jason must have knocked the ashtray onto the floor after he was struck. But you still had a bloody handkerchief and a candlestick to dispose of.”