Jed Rubenfeld - The Interpretation of Murder

I leapt off my bed and ran from the room.

The moment their lips met, Nora seized Clara's hand, the hand holding the gun. The revolver fired. Nora was unable to dislodge the gun from Clara's hands, but she had managed to direct the barrel away from her own body. The bullet flew into the air above the city.

Nora scratched at Clara's face, drawing blood above and below her eye. When Clara cried out in pain, Nora bit Clara's hand — again, the one holding the gun — as hard as she could. The revolver fell to the concrete floor of the balcony and skittered back into the hotel room.

Clara struck Nora in the face. She struck her a second time, then pulled the girl by the hair to the balcony's edge. There she bent Nora backward over the railing, Nora's long tresses hanging straight down in the direction of the street far, far below.

Nora raised one of her shoes from the floor and brought it down on Clara's foot, the stiletto heel digging into Clara's bare instep. Clara let out a fearful cry and lost her grip on Nora, who tore herself away. She made it past Clara, through the French doors, but fell to the floor, unable to run in Clara's heels. On hands and knees she went on, crawling to reach the gun. Her fingertips had actually touched the pearl handle when Clara yanked her backward by her dress. Clara cast Nora aside, leapt over her, strode to the middle of the room, and seized the pistol.

'Very good, my dear,' said Clara, breathing hard. 'I had no idea you had it in you.'

They were interrupted by a crash. The locked door flew open, bits of wood scattering in the air, and Stratham Younger burst in.

'Dr Younger,' said Clara Banwell, standing in the middle of Nora's living room and pointing a small revolver directly at my midsection, 'how lovely to see you. Please close the door.'

Nora lay on the floor a dozen feet away. I saw a bruise on her cheek but, thank God, no blood anywhere. 'Are you hurt?' I asked her.

She shook her head.

Exhaling the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in, 1 closed the door. 'And you, Mrs Banwell,' I said, 'how are you this evening?'

The corners of Clara's mouth edged up ever so slightly. She was badly scratched above and below her left eye. 'I will be better shortly,' she said. 'Step out onto the balcony, Doctor.'

I didn't move.

'Onto the balcony, Doctor,' she repeated.

'No, Mrs Banwell.'

'Really?' Clara returned. 'Shall I shoot you where you stand?'

'You can't,' I said. 'You gave your name downstairs. If you kill me, they will hang you for murder.'

'You are quite mistaken,' replied Clara. 'They will hang Nora, not me. I will tell them she killed you, and they will believe me. Have you forgotten? She is the psychopath. She is the one who burned herself with a cigarette. Even her parents think so.'

'Mrs Banwell, you don't hate Nora. You hate your husband. You have been his victim for seven years. Nora has been his victim too. Don't be his instrument.'

Clara stared at me. I took a step in her direction.

'Stop where you are,' said Clara sharply. 'You are a surprisingly poor judge of character for a psychologist, Dr Younger. And so credulous. What I told you, you think true. Do you believe everything women tell you? Or do you believe them only when you want to sleep with them?'

'I don't want to sleep with you, Mrs Banwell.'

'Every man wants to sleep with me.'

'Please lower the gun,' I said. 'You are overwrought. You have every reason to be, but you misdirect your anger. Your husband beats you, Mrs Banwell. He has never consummated your marriage. He has made you — made you perform acts — '

Clara laughed. 'Oh, stop it. You are too comical. You will make me sick.'

It was not the laughter as such, but the condescending note in it, that brought me up short.

'He never made me do anything,' said Clara. 'I am no one's victim, Doctor. On our wedding night, I told him he would never have me. I, not he. How easy it was. I told him he was the strongest man I had ever met. I told him I would do things he would like even better. Which I did. I told him I would bring him other girls, young girls, whom he could do with as he pleased. Which I did. I told him he could hurt me, and I would make him happy while he hurt me. Which I did.'

Nora and I both stared at Clara in silence.

'And he liked it,' she added, smiling.

Again there was silence. I finally broke it. 'Why?'

'Because I knew him,' Clara said. 'His appetites are insatiable. He wanted me, of course, but not me alone. There were going to be others. Many, many others. Do you think

I could consent to be one of many, Doctor? I hated him from the moment I laid eyes on him.'

'It is not Nora,' I said, 'who has brought this upon you.'

'It is,' Clara snapped. 'She destroyed everything.'

'How?' This was Nora.

'By existing,' answered Clara with undisguised venom, declining even to look in Nora's direction. 'It — he fell in love with her. In love. Like a dog. Not a smart dog. A stupid dog. She was so spoiled and yet so unspoiled. What an enchanting contradiction. It became an obsession. So I had to get the dog his bone, didn't I? One can't live with a man slobbering like that.'

'That is why you agreed to have an affair with my father?' asked Nora.

'I didn't agree,' said Clara contemptuously, addressing Younger, not Nora. 'It was my idea. The weakest, most boring man I have ever known. If there is a heaven for selfless women, I — but even then she ruined it. She rejected George. She actually rejected him.' Clara took a deep breath; at last her demeanor lightened again. 'I tried a great many things to cure him of it. Many different things. Really I did.'

'Elsie Sigel,' I said.

A minute flinch at the corner of her mouth revealed Clara's surprise, but she didn't waver. 'You do have talent, Doctor, in the detection line. Have you considered changing careers?'

'You procured your husband another girl from a good family,' I went on. 'You thought it might make him forget Nora.'

' Very good. I don't believe any woman alive could have done it, other than myself. But when I found her Chinaman, I had her. She had written him love letters — to a Chinaman! He sold them to me, and I told the poor girl it was my duty to give them to her father unless she helped me. But my dog of a husband wasn't interested. You should have seen him, going through the motions. His mind was' — now Clara cast an eye at the still-prostrate Nora — 'on his bone.'

'You killed her,' I said. 'With chloroform. The same chloroform you gave your husband to use on Nora.'

Clara smiled. 'I said you should be a detective. Elsie simply couldn't keep her mouth shut. And what an unpleasant voice that one had. She left me no choice. She would have told. I could see it in her eyes.'

'Why didn't you just kill me! ' Nora shot out.

'Oh, it did occur to me, darling, but that wouldn't have done at all. You have no idea what it was like to see my husband's face when he understood that you, the love of his life, were doing everything in your little power to ruin him, to destroy him. It was worth more than all his money. Well, almost more, and I am going to have his money in any event. Dr Younger, I think you've kept me talking long enough.'

'You can't kill us, Mrs Banwell,' I said. 'If they find us both dead, shot by your gun, they will never believe you innocent. They will hang you. Put it down.' I took another step forward.

'Stop!' cried Clara, turning her gun on Nora. 'You are bold with your own life. You won't be so bold with hers. Now go to the balcony.'

I stepped forward again — not toward the balcony, but toward Clara.

'Stop!' Clara repeated. 'Are you mad? I'll shoot her.'

'You'll shoot at her, Mrs Banwell,' I replied. 'And you'll miss. What is that, a twenty-two single-action snub-nose? You couldn't hit a barn door with that unless you were within two feet of it. I'm within two feet of you now, Mrs Banwell. Shoot me.'