by Joseph Grady
The door opened and closed again, and Lucy thought she heard me enter the room. Without even opening her eyes, she immediately launched into me, completely sure that there was nothing that could go wrong. “Blue Bear. Look. We’ve gone over it how many times by now? I do not want to talk about it again, alright? What the hell could go wrong? She’s one stupid and impulsive blonde girl with an empty gun against two strong Americans. End of story. I know how that one ends. Just leave me alone and let me relax tonight.”
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” a young female voice with a South African accent asked her.
Lucy’s heart went from nothing to pounding in no time. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself completely frozen and motionless while staring down the barrel of a gun.
“No really,” Natasha asked. “Who the hell were you talking to?”
Lucy tried to respond, but she was only able to open her mouth and make a squeek, not unlike the whales on the CD.
“Put these on. Attach one end to the water knob, and another to your wrist.” Natasha threw something into the water and a couple small pieces of metal fell on Lucy’s legs.
Lucy didn’t move.
“I said put them on!” Natasha yelled, wagging the gun at her.
Lucy fumbled around with the metal object, and finally understood that they were the handcuffs that she had prepared for the next morning in the trap room across the hallway. She grappled around in the water for a while, unable to work quickly under so much stress and confusion.
“Hurry!”
Lucy whimpered and started breathing very quickly. She finally managed to attach her right wrist to the cuffs, and then, after much shaking, to wrap the other end of the handcuffs around the hot water knob next to the spigot. She pushed the cuff closed, locking herself to the tub, and another thought crossed her mind. The bullets. The gun’s empty. I’m an idiot. She squinted and looked straight at the gun. Natasha seemed to understand why.
“Don’t think this isn’t loaded. I know you broke into my room today and tried to unload all the bullets.”
Her heart accelerated again.
“I want to know,” Natasha stepped back and sat down facing Lucy on the tile bench that surrounded the edge of the room where I normally sit. She set the gun down on the bench, but kept her hand right next to it. “I want to know two things. I want to know why you killed Eugenio and I want to know why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Lucy was confused by the first question, so she decided to focus on the second one. “There’s no way you can kill me and not get caught. The security guards will hear the gunfire. The new cameras already show you coming down here. Do you really want to kill me, try to outrun the two guards and the police, and become a fugitive right now?”
“Nobody ever comes down here. This gun isn’t that loud. If I felt I needed to, I could be in Africa for a week before anyone discovers your body. But anyways,” she held up her hands, which had rubber gloves on them, “I reckon that I needn’t leave Italy at all. There’s no indication they would be capable of tracing your death to me. You somehow managed to off two people and the Italian police are none the wiser. I imagine I could do significantly better.”
“The cameras, though.”
“They’ve installed twelve new cameras. None of which covers the path from the roof, and down the servants’ staircase to here. Nobody knows you’re here, nobody knows I’m here, and nobody will see me leave.”
Lucy started grasping at straws, “The stench, though. Someone will smell the body.”
“There are hundreds of liters of bleach in the laundry room, and your body is already conveniently placed in a bathtub. I promise, your carcass will be quite nicely preserved, and ready for repatriation whenever they find you. But you failed to respond to my first question, the question your life depends on. Why did you kill Eugenio?”
Lucy just shook her head with her mouth open.
“Why?” Natasha yelled, picking the gun back up.
“I didn’t” Lucy croaked. “You did. You’re the only one who could have killed him.”
“I know it was you, you bastard. I know you were arrested for it, but your lawyers got you off the hook. And I know you weren’t inside the servants’ quarters when Andrew and that poor reporter got thrown from the roof. You don’t have to play stupid with me. I don’t need a reason to kill you, I need a reason not to kill you, and you’re not giving it to me.”
“Go up in my room. There’s a whole package of information with a foolproof alibi. I promise.”
“I’m not going to fall for that sort of trick. I’ve seen the security footage myself. I saw you kill him. And why should I trust any documents you have, Lucy? Or should I call you...” Natasha reached into her pocket, took out Lucy’s fake U.S. passport, read the name, and threw it on the floor, “Emily Green?”
“I can explain that.”
“Or is it...” Natasha took out Lucy’s fake press credentials, read the name and threw it next to the fake passport, “Marianne Medlin?”
“That one ... that one can also be explained.”
“Or is it ...” she pulled out the lanyard with the South African Embassy I.D., and dangled it in the air, “Alice Kloepfer?”
“Okay, so I can see why those are a little confusing, but they can all be explained.”
“It’s also interesting. My phone stopped working this evening, and then I found the battery in your desk drawer. I wonder how that got there.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to let you call your Subaru friends.”
“My what? Never mind, Lucy – or whoever the hell you are – it’s quite clear to anyone that you’re full of shit. So just cut it out and explain to me why you killed Eugenio. I saw the security footage. Just tell me why!”
“You saw someone wearing my raincoat killing Eugenio.” And then Lucy decided she didn’t want to play this game anymore. “What the hell am I talking about? If you saw the security footage, then you saw yourself killing Eugenio. I don’t know if you’re crazy and don’t remember, or what, but that’s what happened. Look, I get it. You’ve got a gun pointed at me. I understand you’ve had a couple of crazy weeks. But you don’t have to play innocent with me. At this point, it really doesn’t look like you’re in danger of getting caught – especially not by me. If you’re, like, really looking for information from me, use the truth as your starting point, and stop asking me bullshit questions with premises that you yourself know aren’t true.”
Natasha set the gun down and stared at the wall above Lucy. “Alright, let’s talk truth. Were you sleeping with him?”
“With who?”
“With whom?” Natasha corrected her.
Lucy looked from side to side, not seeing the value in a grammar lesson at such a time. Natasha continued. “With Eugenio. You got jealous when you found out about me, and decided to kill him, didn’t you? Was he sleeping with you too?”
“I wasn’t sleeping with him! I never knew who he was. And what do you mean you too?” Lucy looked up and stared straight at Natasha, “So you admit it, then? You were having an affair with him. Or at least, come on, that’s obvious from all those cute photos you’ve got in your journal.”
“Lucy, don’t you understand? I’m the one with the firearm. You need to answer my questions, or you’re going to die.”
“And you didn’t tell the cops about your relationship, did you? Sounds like you’ve got something to hide.”
“Lucy, do try to understand. I’m threatening to murder you! I should think it’s only in your best interest to respond to my questioning.”
“I am answering your questions. I told you I wasn’t sleeping with him. But don’t you get it? It looks like I’m about to be a murder victim, and you’re about to become a murderer ... again. What’ve I got to lose by speaking my mind? Doesn’t the victim have a right to ask a few questions? And shouldn’t a potential murderer take some time to figure out what’s going on?”
“You’re no vict
im.” And Natasha added in a very unconvincing tone of voice, “If I kill you, it’ll be revenge.”
“Look, here’s what’s gonna happen. You can do one of two things. You can choose not to kill me, and then go look at my alibi, and realize that not killing me was a good idea. Or you can kill me, and then let curiosity get the better of you, look at my alibi, and come to the painful realization that you killed an innocent person. Not that you’d care, though.”
Natasha folded her arms and stared at Lucy for a minute. Lucy stared back. The whale song CD continued. Lucy kept her shoulders as still as possible, while searching around under the waterline and bubbles with her free hand and her feet for anything she could use to help her. There was a rubber ducky, a rubber plug in the drain, a bar of soap, and a loofah. Nothing. Completely and totally trapped. Her only hope was to stare back and convince Natasha not to kill her.
“Alright, let’s try to make a fresh start,” proposed Natasha. “From the top.”
“Let’s.”
“But I must insist on one thing. Do please keep in mind that I am the one wielding the gun.”
“As long as you can keep in mind that I’m the one whose life is at stake.”
“That’s quite fair.” Natasha extracted some papers out of the pocket of her coat. “There are a number of items which I’ve found on your desk that require an explanation.”
“So you’re the one who searched my room?”
“This evening, yes.”
“And last week?”
“Last week?” Natasha looked in the air. “Not at all. But you have little reason to act so offended. I have photographs of you breaking into my room this morning.”
“Really?”
“Yes, after your first break-in two weeks ago, I purchased a game camera.”
“A what?”
“Aren’t you a hunter? Remember, slaughtering bison for your moccasins?”
“No, that was just ... nevermind.”
“I know. I can understand sarcasm. Apparently you can’t. Anyways, a game camera is a device used by hunters with a motion sensor that takes a picture of animals every time one walks by. It works well to track animals, so I’m not surprised it managed to work on you as well.”
“Oh,” Lucy’s eyes lit up. “That’s what that thing was on the bookshelf. I was wondering. But seriously, though, that first break-in wasn’t me.”
“Indeed.” Natasha unfolded the papers. “Well then how on earth am I to understand these?” She showed Lucy the threat letter made from the letters cut out from the newspaper that Lucy had prepared that evening, “And these,” she had also stolen Lucy’s elaborate plans to lure Natasha down to the basement the following morning and into a trap in the old bedroom across from the Turkish bath.
“That letter’s not real. Or, I mean, yeah, it’s a real anonymous letter, but I’m not the one who sent that first letter. I thought you were the one who sent that first anonymous letter from ‘the true heirs’. This one’s just designed to lure you down to the basement tomorrow morning.”
“Well, it appears your plan worked fantastically. Here I am. And why am I to be lured into the basement? You claim you didn’t murder anyone, but you are, nonetheless, beginning to sound awfully creepy.”
“I wasn’t going to kill you. Just handcuff you and turn you over to... I don’t know, maybe the police. I just wanted to confront you with those pictures of you and Eugenio and get you to confess the murder.”
“Well aren’t you a good one. But I don’t get it, Lucy. Why should you care? It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“You killed my friend and — ” Lucy stopped herself because she was a little surprised to have heard herself use that word to describe a relationship with a man she’d hardly known, but then she remembered what Cristiano had told her about friendship at the Irish bar.
“Your friend?” Natasha asked. “So now you say Eugenio was your friend?”
“No. You killed my friend, Cristiano, the reporter. Yesterday. Don’t murder my friends and then tell me it doesn’t have to do with me. And you threatened to kill my friends in the servants’ quarters of Palazzo Mortimer. I can’t have that. I won’t have that. And you’ll have to kill me first before you ever get close to them.” Lucy was shocked at herself for having said something that sounded so cheesy and heroic at the same time.
Natasha remained silent, so Lucy stopped to listen to the whales and wonder whether or not it was true. Why was she trying to catch the murderer? Curiosity? Morbid obsession? Self defense after having been accused? No. None of those explanations were sufficient to explain her behavior. In all the last weeks of investigating, she’d never really stopped to ask herself why she had gotten herself so involved, and all of the sudden she’d explained it to herself using words that were far more noble and idealistic than what she’d have formulated when not under duress. But now that she’d said it, she couldn’t help but see that, to a certain extent, heroic or not, cheesy or not, it was true. Why else was she behaving so rashly in front of a girl threatening to kill her?
Natasha, however, was not convinced. “You’re telling me you want to give your life for an oddball group of foreign roommates at a retirement home?”
Lucy didn’t need to reflect to come up with a response, “You’re right. Fine. I’ll admit it. I am kind of pathetic. I’m a foreigner whose only meaningful relationships in life are these weird roommates at a retirement home. You’re right. I mean, what am I, if not an oddball roommate?” and she added something even more cheesy sounding, “If I can’t give my life for them, then for whom can I give my life? But you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be an oddball, would you? It’s not like there’s anyone on our hallway who’s so weird as to be a germaphobe or anything like that.”
“This discussion is becoming a little abstract,” Natasha immediately changed the subject. “Let’s get back to the details.”
“Let’s.”
“So let’s say for a second that you’re not the murderer. Explain to me who is. I just don’t see who else it could have been.”
“That’s funny. I said the same thing about you just this afternoon.”
“Well... who was it?”
“Well, you, obviously!”
“Lucy, don’t waste my time.”
“I’m not wasting your time. And come on, you’re trying to decide whether or not to commit murder. It’s midnight on a Tuesday. Don’t tell me you don’t have time. In fact, you’d better take your time, and make sure you’re one hundred percent certain.”
“Alright, tell me why I’m a murderer.”
Lucy swallowed, and looked at the gun. She didn’t have time to come up with a good lie, so she gambled on the truth. She started from the top, from the time she went running in the park and ran into a weird guy in a red tracksuit with keys. She was extremely thorough, including even details that I’ve left out. She went from the very first moments all the way through the arrest, the interrogation, the release, her first conversations with Cristiano, the jacket, the Galli mailbox, their visit to Galli’s wife, the plan with Cristiano to find the murderer, her search of Natasha’s room that morning, and her plan to confront Natasha the next day. The story took over an hour. As time went on, Natasha kept making more and more connections, nodding her head as Lucy pointed out details that Natasha herself had verified over the past weeks. When it was over, Natasha picked up the bubble solution and squirted some into the water, which was getting dangerously clear.
“Thanks.”
“There’s some parts of that story that are difficult to believe.”
“I’d say the same thing, but it’s the truth. If you want to ask Brian tomorrow, he’ll tell you the same story.”
“I guess it sounds like you’re not the killer. And things all of the sudden look pretty damning for me.”
“Well, I’m sure if you just explained – ”
“Oh God, no, not tonight.”
“I mean, at this point, in good conscience
, you can’t leave me handcuffed in the tub all night. And I don’t think you’re going to kill me ... so ... I’d like to think I’ve earned an explanation.”
“I’ll be brief.”
Natasha dug through her pockets. A small splash of water in front of her face struck Lucy and a tiny metal object landed on her thigh. She unlocked herself, and stretched out her hand, feeling the blood return to her fingers.
Lucy stayed seated in the tub, as Natasha began, “Well, whatever... he was an Italian businessman who used to stay at the rental house next door to Mum and I for a few months every year. What’s not to like? Two years ago we started to ... well ... y’know. Anyways. I more or less knew that he was married and all, but ... Have you ever been to South Africa?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s fun for tourism and whatnot, but to live there all the time is so dreadfully boring. To be honest, well ... I don’t know ... we were in love I guess, but, I don’t know... Well, not like, you know, all in love in love, but sure, love, I guess. I mean, I was bored with everything else, and he was definitely the only interesting part of life. My whole life became sitting around waiting for the weeks when Eugenio would come down for business. So I convinced him I could come to Italy and not cause him any problems with his family, and eventually he agreed. He found digs for me at the Palazzo. He said he had connections here, but I still have never understood how. My flight changed and I showed up to Rome a couple of days earlier than expected. When I finally got ahold of him on that mobile he freaked out, and told me to stay at the Palazzo. He sounded really worried and said he was coming to get ...” Natasha paused for a second, swallowed, and continued. She was much better at controlling her emotions than Lucy, “He said he was coming to get me. Anyways, that’s the last I heard from him. I tried to call back. Then you and that police officer showed up and told me someone had been murdered. And that was that I guess.”