by Natalie Dean
Barbara didn’t know how anyone could be so brave. She imagined if she were to be so high she would lose her grip on the rope and fall. But, every time she had seen the play, the actor had expertly executed the trick, drawing gasps and applause from everyone in the room.
The first time she had seen the play, Barbara had cried out when the man jumped, not realizing that he had ahold of a rope. She feared that it was some sort of accident, and the man would be harmed in a terrible fall. But, since that first time, she knew what was going to happen next, and eagerly twisted in her seat as soon as the lights came on.
The speaker walked out onto the stage as she knew he would, and she grabbed Mark’s hand in anticipation. As always, the lights suddenly went out, and a hushed silence filled the room. Barbara couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing that no one else was going to know what was happening.
Suddenly, she heard the light sound of footsteps behind their box. Confused, she looked around, but it was so dark in the room, she couldn’t see anything.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered to Mark. Suddenly, Barbara could feel Mark grow very tense on the seat next to her, before he suddenly relaxed. The sound of the footsteps retreated quickly, and Barbara continued to look around, wondering what had happened. She knew it was only a few seconds before the lights came back on, but it felt like an eternity.
“Mark? Mark!” she whispered as loudly as she dared. She knew that in the silent room her voice was sure to carry more than she wanted it to, but she was beginning to sense that there was something wrong.
Suddenly, the lights came back on. The man in the mask stood at the top of the balcony as he always did, his face completely covered by the mask. He shouted his lines then grabbed the rope, jumping over the railing with the same swiftness as he always did. Everyone in the audience began screaming, but their screams were quickly drowned out by the sound of another voice screaming louder than the rest.
Turning, everyone directed their focus from the stage to the balcony, where Barbara stood screaming in her box.
As soon as the lights had come back on, Barbara had turned to ask Mark if he had heard the footsteps behind them, but as soon as she did, she saw that her husband was slumped forward in the box. At first, she feared that he had a dizzy spell and fainted from the height of the balcony, but as she lifted him, she felt wetness on her hand.
Immediately, she saw that it was blood, and she realized that her husband had been stabbed. Barbara began screaming for anyone to come over and help her, but at the same time, the rest of the audience began screaming as the man completed the scene – momentarily drowning out her own screams.
As soon as the room had quieted and they were able to hear her, men began running down to her box as quickly as they could.
“Help! Help me! I think my husband’s been stabbed!” she sobbed as she was surrounded by the men. Barbara felt she was in such shock, she feared she may faint and topple over the banister herself. However, one of the men grabbed her gently by the arm and pulled her out of the box.
Other men had surrounded her husband, blocking him completely from her view. Barbara glanced around the room, sobbing and screaming that it couldn’t be real – couldn’t be happening. People were sitting stunned in their seats, unsure of what to do, and a man from the back of the room began evacuating the building.
The stage was now empty.
A Shocking Accusation
Barbara walked silently along the cobblestone walkway, holding her lace shawl tightly around her shoulders. The funeral had been that morning, and she was so overwhelmed with grief, she felt nothing at all. No sorrow, no sadness, just a numb emptiness inside her heart.
There had been dozens of people at the funeral, and each one had given her their condolences, stating what a tragedy it was and assuring her that the man who did it would be caught. Though Barbara prayed that he would be, she also hoped that she might be the one to catch him and serve him justice herself.
Mark Hill was the kindest man she had ever met, and the thought of facing the rest of her life without him filled her chest with such tightness she didn’t think she could breathe. She couldn’t think of anyone whom her husband had mentioned as an enemy, only furthering the mystery surrounding his death.
If the murderer was ever caught, he was sure to be hanged. She knew that much, but she wanted to ask him why – why he had done such a terrible thing and robbed her of the love of her life. Surely there would have been another way to work out their differences. Mark was a fair man. If there had been some grievance the murderer had had against him, surely, he would have been able to talk it over and reach an agreement they both could have been happy with.
No matter how she thought about it, none of it made sense.
Barbara walked through the gate and up the steps to their home. Nestled in between two other homes on either side, the Hills had always been pleased with their Boston residence. It was no mansion, but the quality of the house did its part to reveal their wealth to the world.
They had shared a luxurious life, but now the house seemed so cold and empty. Though the money was solely hers now, Barbara didn’t want to see a dime of it. All she wanted was to see Mark one more time. To have him hold her in his arms as he so often had in the past. To feel his love for her.
She removed her shawl and took her time folding it, draping it over the back of a chair. Barbara never did that. Before, she had always been adamant about putting things away as soon as she was done using them. It made it easier for the maid to keep up with the chores around the house without having to put her things away.
Barbara glanced up, looking at herself in the large mirror. Mark had the mirror imported from France, just for her. It reached nearly to the ceiling and covered almost the entire wall from end to end. The details around the boarder were immaculate, though Mark had always said they paled in comparison to herself when her reflection could be seen.
She looked tired. Her blonde hair was disheveled, hanging about her shoulders, begging to be brushed. She had dark rims under her eyes, and her green eyes themselves were red and swollen from her tears. Though she was only twenty-three years of age, she looked to be much nearer to forty at that moment.
A knock on the door suddenly distracted her, and Barbara hastily grabbed her shawl and threw it about her shoulders once more as she hurried to answer the knock. She thought it may be more people stopping to offer her their condolences, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw the sheriff and a deputy standing in the entrance.
“Please, gentlemen, come in!” She ushered them into the kitchen, where she then put tea over the fire to heat.
“Has there been any developments?” she asked before they had a chance to remove their hats. She glanced over her shoulder as she spoke, and was confused to see the men exchange a glance before the sheriff spoke.
“As a matter of fact, there has. However, I think it best if you sit down for the discussion. Shall we have tea?” He looked at the mugs she had set out, and Barbara whirled back around to see how fast the water was heating. She quickly scooped the tea into the pot then placed the strainers over each mug.
After pouring the tea into the mugs, she then hastily set them on the table in front of the men, with enough grace in her speed that she did not spill even one drop on her mahogany table.
After picking up her own cup, she sat down on the other side of the table, then looked eagerly from one face to the other.
“Gentlemen, I am most eager to hear what it is you have to say – did you catch the man who did it? Do you have any clues in the case? Do you know why he did it?” Her questions were coming so quickly, it was difficult for her to keep up with her own words. Once again, the men exchanged a look, then the sheriff took a long drink of his tea before answering. Barbara felt her heart sink and wondered why they were taking so long to tell her their news.
“Well, we have found a clue, and we do know for a fact that it was used in the murder,” he said, a bit of hesitat
ion in his voice. Barbara’s eyes widened, and she once again prompted them to continue with their tale.
“Your husband was murdered with a small dagger. It’s unusual to see such things in Boston, as they are French by design. You don’t need me to tell you that it was during the time the lights were out that the tragedy occurred, but don’t you find it odd that if he was murdered from behind that the wound was in his chest, not his back?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she nodded.
“Indeed, I find that very strange! Where did you find the knife? Were there any other clues on it that would lead you to any suspects?” she was breathing rapidly, looking quickly from one of the men to the other. The deputy cleared his throat, and the sheriff adjusted himself in his seat.
“That’s why we are here, I’m afraid. We found the knife beneath your seat, Mrs. Hill.”
Barbara’s face paled, and she felt dizzy.
“How on earth did he manage to get it under my seat without me knowing? Especially after doing such a thing to my poor husband?” she cried out, anger and fear mixed in her voice. The sheriff took another drink of his tea.
“That’s what we are wondering. In fact, it would seem to be nearly impossible for someone to do such a thing without you noticing. After all, how could someone inflict a wound on your husband’s chest, then place the knife so conveniently under your chair, but you don’t notice a thing that’s happening until the lights come back on?” The look the sheriff gave her told her exactly what he meant, and at once she felt her eyes start to snap.
“Gentlemen, if you are for one second accusing me of murdering my own husband, you have got another thing coming! How dare you walk into my house – the day I put my love into the ground – and tell me that you believe I am the one responsible for his death? How dare you?!” Barbara didn’t bother keeping her voice down, and by the time she had finished speaking, she was shouting at the men.
The sheriff rose from his seat, clearly doing his best to keep the situation under control.
“It’s my job to get to the bottom of this murder, Ma’am, and that means I need to investigate every possible outlet. I didn’t say that you were responsible for his death, but I am telling you what we have found so far. I’m going to be stopping by in a few days to discuss this further with you, so don’t leave town.”
Decisions
“I simply can’t believe the audacity of it! To say such a thing to a woman who is mourning the death of her husband!” Melissa shook her head as she tapped her spoon against the top of her teacup. Barbara nodded as she sat down at the table, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
She enjoyed visiting her neighbor, even more so now that her own house felt so empty and cold. Melissa had offered to give her tea any time she needed it, which had been often over the past few days. Barbara picked up her mug and lifted it to her lips, taking a sip of the hot liquid and letting it fill every part of her being with warmth.
At least it was some kind of feeling.
“I can’t believe anyone would think that I could do such a thing. I loved Mark dearly, he was the love of my life,” she felt the tears well up in her eyes and did nothing to stop them from rolling down her cheeks. Melissa reached across the table and put her hand on her friend’s arm.
“I know you didn’t do it. Clearly whoever did is trying to frame you,” she spoke lowly, and Barbara suddenly looked up with shock in her eyes.
“You are absolutely right! But why? What did we ever do to anyone? We’ve always been modest folks, giving to charity, keeping to ourselves, doing what we can to get along with the world. I don’t see any reason why anyone would feel the need to do anything to us.” She caught a sob in her throat before it managed to escape, but Melissa rose from the table and began walking back and forth in the room.
“The only thing I can think of is your wealth. You and Mark were the wealthiest people in this entire part of the city, and yes, you have been most generous and kind with it, but that’s not enough for some people.” Melissa shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, letting her eyes search the floor as she was deep in thought.
“But if they wanted our money, then why wouldn’t they have just murdered the both of us? The lights were out long enough for that to happen, and I should think that it would be a lot riskier to try to slip the knife under my seat without me noticing than to simply be done with us both!” Barbara looked up at her friend as she continued to walk back and forth in the room, her hands clasped behind her back now as though she were a teacher lecturing a class.
“Unless there is some other reason for you still being alive. Think about it, Barbara, if he were to get the blame shifted to being on you, then you are the one who is going to be arrested – that means” – her voice trailed off, and Barbara’s eyes widened. She knew exactly what it meant. If she were to be found guilty of this crime, then she would be the one wearing a noose around her neck. Instinctively, she put her hand around her throat before quickly removing it and looking down at the tea in her cup.
“Or, perhaps there is something else this individual wants from you. Have you noticed anyone acting strange around you lately?” Melissa asked, pausing to look at her friend once more. Barbara sat silently for a moment, trying to recall anything that she found to be out of the ordinary.
“Everyone has been acting strangely, but I know that’s just because they are uncomfortable. What do you say to a woman who is in this situation, after all?” She shrugged, unable to think of anything that stood out to her as remarkable.
“Well, why don’t you try to think back to before this happened – can you think of anyone that stood out to you as acting different – or like they didn’t like your husband?” Melissa knew she was talking about a delicate subject, and she did her best to be as understanding as possible, but she also felt that she was onto something.
“Mark always had people coming in and out of the house. Yes, there were some people that I didn’t like as well as others, but isn’t that to be expected? I mean, perhaps someone that I thought was acting strangely was merely someone I didn’t care for?” Barbara looked at her friend with worry in her eyes, and Melissa just shook her head.
“I don’t know, Barbara. Perhaps you should really think about what happened in the days before he was murdered. I loved Mark, you know that, but perhaps there was someone he was involved with that wasn’t such a good person.” Melissa sat down at the table once more, and Barbara shook her head.
“But if the officers are already suspecting that I am the person who did it, what are they going to do for me? I feel that my interactions with them have only been trying to get me to admit to something that I didn’t do!” She put her face in her hands and drew in a long breath before letting it out again. Her body quivered as she did so, and once again Melissa put her hand on her friend.
“I don’t know, but I think you might be in very real danger. I don’t like the sound of this, at all, and I hate to think that you are alone in that house all night. What if someone were to break in and do the same to you?” Melissa’s own voice shook as she spoke, and Barbara shook her head.
“I don’t think they would, or they would have when they had the chance before. There must be something else that this person is after. What do I do?” she shook her head as she looked out the window, and Melissa sighed.
“The only thing you can do. You’ve got to get out of here, as soon as you possibly can, too. I suspect that this person is going to keep planting evidence against you, making it harder and harder for you to prove to the sheriff and his men that you are innocent.” Melissa looked out the window, then added, “You have to disappear.”
“How do I do that?” Barbara asked, not at all liking the sound of her friend’s suggestion, but feeling that she had no other option. Melissa turned her focus back on Barbara.
“There is one way.”
A Shot at Redemption
Barbara walked through the general store, looking absentmindedly at the prod
ucts that lined the shelves. It had been three days since her discussion with Melissa, and she still didn’t know what she made of it.
Her friend had suggested that she become a mail order bride – a notion Barbara had never known existed. The concept of finding a man through an ad in the paper, then moving across the country to somewhere she’d never been to marry him sounded so crazy it almost made her laugh.
But, at the same time, Barbara knew she was running out of other options. The sheriff was becoming increasingly suspicious of her, not revealing what evidence he had found, but insisting that he was finding more and more evidence to suggest that she had a bigger part in the murder than she wanted to admit.
At the same time, she was finding it harder to sleep at night, knowing that at any moment someone could break into her home and possibly harm her in the same way her husband had been killed. Though she tried to convince herself that if the murderer wanted her also gone, he would have already killed her, she found it impossible to feel safe anywhere she went in town.
Not only did she have to worry about this stress, but at the same time, she knew she was quickly becoming the talk of the town. The way the men and women looked at her on the street as they passed, it was evident they had heard that she was suspected to be the one who murdered her husband, and there was only mounting evidence to say that it was so.
Barbara avoided making eye contact with anyone as she walked through the aisles of the general store. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to ask her how she was holding up, or if there was anything they might be able to do for her. She wanted to be left alone, entirely alone. She wanted the nightmare that had become her life to be over, and she wanted to know what it was like to be happy once more.