‘Thank you, Emily,’ he said in a voice that sounded as if it hadn’t been used in a month. ‘I understand I owe this to you.’
‘You owe it to your own innocence,’ she replied. ‘The truth was bound to come out in the end.’
‘I don’t feel like an innocent man,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I still don’t remember what happened that night. It’s like a horrible black hole in my mind, populated with imagined horrors that won’t go away. I accept that Sidney was the one who actually killed her, but the fact remains that I wanted her dead. And I’m pretty sure Sidney thought he was doing me a favor by getting rid of her. That makes me morally responsible.’
‘It does nothing of the kind. Other people who care about you knew her death would be a boon to you – Svetlana, I myself – but we didn’t take it upon ourselves to kill her. And you never asked for Sidney’s hero-worship; in fact, you did all you could to discourage it. Sidney is a sick young man, Daniel. The sickness of his soul is much worse than that of your brain, and I’m afraid much less treatable. Oh, and speaking of your brain, I have some good news for you. Dr Zimmerman told me the college insurance has changed – they’ll be able to cover the medication you need from now on.’
Daniel’s face brightened at that. ‘That is good news. I thought I could tough it out, but after this whole ordeal – well, let’s just say I never want to go through anything like that again.’
Colin’s phone rang, and he answered it via the car’s Bluetooth. Emily and Daniel heard a voice on the other end say, ‘Better get back here, Richards. Sharpe’s hanged himself in his cell.’
TWENTY-NINE
‘I’m so sorry,’ Colin said to Emily and Daniel as he turned the car to head back over the Hawthorne Bridge to the station. ‘I’ll try to be as quick as I can.’
He left them in the informal waiting room Emily had occupied on a previous visit and disappeared down a hallway. Daniel sat with his head in his hands, unreachable and oblivious to the world around him as he wrestled with his private demons. Emily retreated into prayer, examining her own conscience with regard to Sidney and the case as a whole, and interceding for Sidney’s soul. In the eyes of the Orthodox church, suicide was an even more serious crime than murder, since it left the perpetrator no opportunity to repent; but she knew mental illness was regarded as some mitigation. Ultimately, the church did not pronounce on anyone’s salvation or lack thereof, but left all to the mercy of God. And Emily knew that mercy to be unfathomable.
She would need some of that mercy herself. Although, looking back, she could not see how at any point she could in good conscience have acted otherwise than she had, she questioned her own motivation. Had her determination to exonerate Daniel been entirely altruistic, or had there been a measure of pride involved – a wish to justify her own assessment of his character? And as for Sidney, she had never liked him, never made any real effort to understand or help him. Had she not felt some measure of triumph when she discovered she was right about him and about Daniel? And then there was Taylor. Had Emily ever entertained a single charitable thought about her?
And as for Richard – she had never once given him the benefit of the doubt, and all because of an accidental resemblance. It was true that emotions she could hardly control, arising as they did from buried trauma, had played a big part in her attitude toward Richard; but even so, she could have made more of an effort to think and behave charitably toward him. Now that everything was over – now that she knew Richard was not a murderer, Taylor would never harass a student again, and Daniel and Svetlana would be able to recover from her persecution and get on with their lives – Emily was surprised to realize the only emotion she still felt toward Richard was pity. Pity for the deep sense of inadequacy that must have informed all his behavior, from sneering at Emily’s good fortune to stealing a student’s paper in an attempt to enhance his own reputation.
The wheels had been set in motion for Richard’s prosecution for plagiarism, but Emily would feel no pleasure in it now. Rather, she felt she could even pray for him. And someday, perhaps, she’d be able to pray for Professor Jenkins as well – though she felt certain he was already receiving his just deserts in eternity.
Emily made a mental note to set up an appointment with Father Paul for confession before she left town. That would be the best way to cleanse her soul from the evil that had surrounded her and, to some extent, seeped into her over the last few weeks.
She looked over at Daniel, whose face was invisible but whose posture suggested he had a long way to go before he would feel himself cleansed and at peace. And he had no active faith to help him along that path. She added a prayer for him and for Svetlana, who would bear the brunt of supporting his recovery.
Colin returned and collapsed into a chair. ‘I’ve done all I need to for now,’ he said. ‘We can get going. But I thought you might want to read this first.’ He handed her a rumpled sheaf of lined notebook paper with the indentations of a heavy scrawl showing through the back. ‘His suicide note.’
Emily wasn’t at all sure she really wanted to read that, but in some obscure way she felt she owed it to Sidney. She took the papers cautiously, as if they might burst into flames in her hand.
The note began with no address or preamble.
You’ve all figured out that I did it. I killed Taylor Curzon. So there’s no point in denying it anymore. I have no intention of standing trial or going to prison, so this will be my only opportunity to explain myself. And it really was such a clever plan, it would be a shame to leave it unexplained. Even though your pedestrian minds will undoubtedly never fully understand. Daniel might, and that’s all I care about.
I’ll go back to the beginning – to meeting Daniel. I knew right away he was my destiny – another extraordinary mind, untrammeled by convention, clearly intended for higher things. I made it my mission to emulate and serve him. I knew quite well people didn’t like me, couldn’t fathom the mysteries of my superior mind. But they did seem to like Daniel, though he never stooped so low as to cultivate their liking, so I thought I could learn that secret from him. Not that I cared if all you peons liked me, but it helps in the early stages when one is trying to attain one’s rightful place in the world. Once I’d achieved power, I’d be able to dispense with mere popularity.
For some time, I believed that Daniel returned my regard. We needed none of the tawdry outward signs of mutual esteem that ordinary people depend on – the handshakes, the clappings on the back, the invitations to ‘hang out’ together – all so vulgar. There was simply an understanding that existed between us without ever being overtly expressed. I would have done anything for him, and I believed he was similarly attached to me.
When Daniel’s difficulties with Professor Curzon began, I set myself to the question of how I might solve his little problem for him. Knowing Curzon’s rapacious tendencies, I assumed reasoning with her would be pointless. But I thought I might be able to divert her attentions from Daniel to myself. I had been studying his ways with the beautiful Svetlana and welcomed this opportunity to practice them.
But my plan backfired. Apparently playing the dark Byronic hero only works if you have the looks for it. Curzon laughed in my face. Not only that, but she told me that she and Daniel had laughed at me together behind my back. What I had thought of as our wordless understanding was apparently only one-way after all.
It was then I decided they would both have to go. Curzon would undoubtedly strive to hinder me after that encounter, and Daniel would only stand in my way, occupying the place in the world that was rightfully mine. I would eliminate them both and slide into the hole Daniel had left behind. I must say, I did contemplate the prospect of sliding into Svetlana’s good graces with some considerable relish.
But I couldn’t bring myself to harm Daniel directly. He still meant too much to me. So I conceived my brilliant plan: Curzon would die, and Daniel would be convicted of her murder.
Everything fell together so easily once I’d made my deci
sion; it was obvious the universe was on my side. That statuette of Daniel’s – so easy to abscond with, so clearly linked to him, so potentially lethal. The bunny suit was easily accessible and (as I thought) easily disposed of, with no link to me. And then Daniel’s blackout on Monday night. What could have been more propitious? Once I’d seen him wandering the campus like a sleepwalker, the entire plan unfolded before me in all its glorious detail. Use Daniel to establish an alibi, bash the bitch’s head in, then bring Daniel back and make sure he got nicely covered in her blood – and he would never remember a thing about it. You have to admit it was awfully neat.
And it would have worked, if it hadn’t been for the damned bunny suit. After I put Daniel to bed, I stashed the suit in the laundry room in the basement of his building, the Old Dorm Block, where if it was found it would be taken as one more proof of Daniel’s guilt. But then after that policeman and that über-bitch Cavanaugh started snooping around, I realized Daniel had no connection with the computer science department and therefore could not be supposed to know about the bunny suits stored in the clean room. So I thought it would be safer simply to put it where used bunny suits normally go. And it would have been – if I hadn’t been seen. It must have been Cavanaugh who saw me; no one else would have thought anything of it. If only she had never come back to campus, I’d be a free man now, with Daniel out of the way and a clear path to greatness before me.
I don’t suppose I’ll have any opportunity for direct vengeance now. But she’s such a sniveling do-gooder, I know my death will weigh on her tender conscience, and that will have to suffice for my revenge. Yes, I did say my death: by the time you find this, I will have gone to my eternal reward. Except that, of course, there is no such thing. There is only darkness.
But I don’t mind. Darkness and I have always been good friends. And if I can’t stand in the spotlight, darkness is where I prefer to be. Out, out, brief candle. Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. The rest is darkness.
Emily handed the sheaf of papers to Colin and fell back in her chair. She felt cold to her very core. A sorrow too deep for tears welled up in her – not so much because Sidney had committed physical suicide as because his soul had been dead already. He had chosen darkness, and the darkness had overcome him.
Colin offered the note to Daniel to read. He hesitated, and Emily shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you, Daniel. Don’t let his venom poison you. I think you already understand why he did it.’
Daniel nodded and dropped his outstretched hand. ‘I think I do. I think I’ve always known. I just didn’t want to believe it.’
Emily stood and wrapped her coat around her in a vain attempt to dispel her inner chill. ‘Let’s get him home,’ she said to Colin. ‘He needs Svetlana now.’
THIRTY
Emily had Colin let her out on campus along with Daniel so she could seek out Marguerite. She didn’t feel like being alone right now.
Marguerite made coffee in her French press, and they sat in her office for privacy while Emily told her all the parts of the story she didn’t yet know. ‘Le pauvre Daniel,’ Marguerite said when she had finished. ‘But now all will be well, yes? His demons will have been purged by his suffering, and he and Svetlana will make a life together.’
‘I hope so, yes. Provided Sidney doesn’t haunt them forever.’
The practical Marguerite dismissed this possibility with a wave of her hand. ‘Much good will come of this evil, you will see. We are free of Taylor Curzon, for one – we and a whole generation of her potential victims.’
‘True, though even she didn’t deserve to go that way.’
‘And we have sniffed out the transgressions of Richard. I have reported him to the committee, and I am confident he will be out by the end of the year. Also, a little bird has hinted to me that I am next in line to take his place as division head.’ She gave Emily a significant smile. ‘And you know what that means.’
Emily brightened for the first time. ‘A real job for Oscar?’
Marguerite nodded. ‘An assistant professorship on the tenure track. I have it all mapped out in my mind.’
Emily gave her friend an impulsive hug. ‘Bless you, Margot. He won’t let you down, I’m sure of it.’
‘I am certain of it as well – otherwise I would not recommend him for promotion. I would do much for you, ma chérie, but sabotage my own division I would not. Oscar will do very well.’
‘And then he’ll be able to get his own apartment and marry Lauren. Maybe they’ll even have children; she’s young enough. My own nieces and nephews at Windy Corner! Oh, that would be bliss!’
Emily started off into a happy dream, but Marguerite recalled her to the present. ‘Do not count your chickens too soon, chérie. Lauren strikes me as a woman with a mind of her own.’
‘She is that. But I think she really loves Oscar, and her biological clock is sure to start chiming before long. I’m going to be optimistic until I have reason to be otherwise.’
That afternoon, after running home for lunch and a change of clothes, Emily forced herself to go back to the library and address her research. She had only three days left in Paideia after today, and the student who normally used her desk could reappear at any time. She needed to wrap things up.
Svetlana had been amazingly efficient, considering how many distractions she faced, and had managed to enter and organize all the work Emily had done so far on to her laptop, so Emily was able to review it quickly and see where she still had gaps to fill. Armed with that knowledge, she brushed off her dormant typing skills and succeeded in collecting all the information she still needed by Friday morning. Of course, it would take months to synthesize all this raw data into her own treatise; but she could do that in the comfort of Windy Corner. Perhaps if she didn’t invite any more retreat guests until she was finished, she would be able to maintain some peace and quiet there – although she was beginning to feel as if she were destined to carry murder and mayhem with her wherever she went.
Over the weekend Emily would be packing up her belongings from the Woodstock Boulevard house and returning to Stony Beach. But before she did that, she wanted to say a proper goodbye to the people here who meant most to her – Oscar, Lauren, Marguerite, Daniel, and Svetlana. She decided to throw another dinner party. With Daniel’s permission, she invited Colin as well – he was, after all, part of her family now. She wanted to invite Luke but told herself he would be busy, and anyway, she would see him the next day at home.
This time Emily asked Marguerite to help her cook, and they produced a sumptuous repast worthy of a celebration. Everyone was gathered and they were bringing the steaming dishes to the table when the doorbell rang.
‘Who on earth can that be?’ Emily muttered, wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed to the door. ‘Whoever it is, their timing stinks.’
She opened the door to a grinning Luke, champagne bottle in hand. ‘Room for one more?’ he said.
She threw her arms around him right there in the doorway with the freezing air pouring in. ‘There’s always room for you. But how did you know?’
‘I have my sources.’ He winked over her head, and she turned to see Colin blush.
‘I didn’t think you’d mind,’ Colin said. ‘I haven’t seen Uncle Luke in ages, and I wanted to talk the case over with him.’
‘Just don’t do that in front of Daniel and Svetlana, OK? Save it for after dinner.’ She gave Luke another squeeze. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. Now my party is complete.’
Oscar scrounged up a chair, and Marguerite laid another place between Emily’s and Colin’s. As they all gathered around the table, Marguerite poured champagne and Emily raised her glass. ‘To Daniel’s freedom,’ she said and, after everyone had sipped, ‘and to Oscar’s improved prospects.’
‘Which we both owe to you,’ Daniel said. ‘To Emily!’
She blushed as everyone cheered.
‘And I have another one,’ Daniel went on. ‘S
vetlana’s father has – not exactly given his consent, but withdrawn his opposition to Svetlana deciding for herself what she wants to do with her life. So after graduation, she’s going back to ballet – and she has agreed to become my wife.’
Emily’s heart made a leap worthy of Svetlana’s balletic talents. Having herself missed the opportunity to spend her whole life with the love of her youth, she, more than most, appreciated what a great gift that was.
‘To Daniel and Svetlana! Many happy years!’ Glasses clinked again as the young couple kissed, starry-eyed.
Oscar whispered something to Lauren, and she nodded with an impish grin. ‘Not to steal your thunder, you two, but we have an announcement of our own.’ Oscar cleared his throat and drew himself up. ‘I’ll be competing with Daniel for the honor of luckiest man in the world. Beyond my wildest dreams, this amazing lady has said yes, and we hope to be married within the year. As soon as we can afford a decent place to live.’
‘How about here?’ Emily said impulsively. ‘This house is promised to Peter and Lillian through May, but after that it’s mine to dispose of. Since I’ve definitely decided to retire, I won’t be needing it anymore. The mortgage is paid off, so you’re perfectly welcome to live here rent-free – as long as you let me stay for a night or two whenever I come to Portland.’
Oscar and Lauren gaped at each other in astonished delight. ‘That means we can get married this summer!’
Oscar turned to Emily. ‘We accept! And that wedding at Windy Corner at New Year’s was so lovely. Could we possibly do that too? We may have a few more guests than they had, a little more hoopla all around. Do you think Katie could handle it?’
‘Katie can handle anything. We’re going to have her own and Jamie’s wedding there in a few months, and after that Luke’s and my reception, so she’ll get plenty of practice. Windy Corner may become a regular wedding chapel. Friends and family only, though,’ she hastened to add. ‘We are definitely not going public.’
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