Twelve Days

by Paul Williams

  ‘You’re mad,’ said Reverend James, smothering his wife in an embrace that was meant to shield her from me rather than show any affection.

  I stared past him into her eyes. ‘Let Linda answer. You don’t always have to answer for her.’

  But Linda would not speak.

  ‘Rafe, are you sure you saw someone with him?’ said Suzanne, moving closer to Linda and touching her arm.

  I looked at her closely. Suzanne was also someone I suspected of visiting Glen that night.

  ‘And what were you doing prowling around late at night?’ said Reverend James.

  ‘I heard a noise.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘And then Glen is stoned to death for adultery. You, Reverend James, said so yourself.’

  He let Linda go and stood at the fire again, avoiding my gaze. He stuttered a little as he spoke. ‘I said nothing of the sort.’

  ‘You stoned him to death for adultery. You passed judgement. And then you gave a sanctimonious sermon the next day justifying his murder.’

  ‘It’s not true. I never even spoke to Glen.’ Linda was weeping now. Suzanne put her arm around her.

  ‘It was an act of God,’ said Reverend James to the fire. ‘A rotten railing.’

  ‘It was no accident. It had been sawn so that whoever leaned on it would fall.’

  ‘What?’ said Emily. ‘You never told me that.’

  I nodded. ‘Linda, tell me where your husband was that night.’

  Reverend James picked up a log and hurled it in the fire.

  ‘Look at me, Reverend.’

  He turned and looked directly into my eyes. ‘Are you implying that I, Reverend James…?’

  ‘Not implying. Deducing. And there’s more. Stephen. Your henchman who helped you organise this retreat came to me, terrified out of his mind after Glen’s death. Wanted to speak to me, said he knew everything and wanted to tell me. Then he conveniently died before he could tell me about your treachery.’

  Reverend James continued staring into my eyes, unblinking. ‘This is preposterous and you know it.’

  ‘Not if you then preach a sermon neatly explaining how his death fits into the third day of Christmas martyrdom. So planned. So organised. Did you really think we’d believe it was an act of God… or Satan?’

  He suddenly closed his eyes, muttered a few inaudible words as if he was praying, then stared at me again. ‘Rafe, stop playing your silly philosophical games. You hate us, you hate me and you’ve come back to exact your revenge on everyone. If anyone set up and committed these murders, it’s you.’

  I opened my arms wide. Now we were getting somewhere. I welcomed a rational, logical, coherent argument. This was my territory. ‘Then please interrogate me. We need the truth. But while we’re being frank, let me pull no punches. We have a murderer using Reverend James’ sermons, his schemes and his book of martyrs to carry out hideous crimes. You brought us here to teach us a lesson. Did that plan include murder?’

  He waved his hands at the remaining Twelve in the room. ‘You’re accusing me of murdering my own flock.’

  ‘The evidence points directly to you,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘What evidence?’

  I pointed to his neck. ‘The blood on your collar after Ali’s death.’

  ‘I was shaving.’

  ‘You knew about the note left on Danny’s table, but I had told no one about it.’

  Reverend James’ eyes darted to each member of the group. He couldn’t get out of this one. He looked at the doorway now as if he was about to bolt. ‘I saw the note when I rose for my Quiet Time and pocketed it.’

  ‘It was the ruse you used to lure him to his death, and so you had to rid yourself of the evidence. But I saw it.’

  ‘Here.’ He pulled the note out of his pocket. ‘I was not going to show anyone this, but seeing as you are accusing me–’

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Suzanne. ‘Why does everyone insist on dragging me through the mud? I didn’t write it.’

  Now everyone stared at her.

  ‘It’s in your handwriting,’ I reminded her.

  Reverend James folded it over. ‘Yes, it’s in her handwriting.’

  ‘Tell everyone what it says.’

  He darted a quick nervous glance at her. ‘It’s an arrangement for her to meet Danny at midnight in the library,’ he said.

  Suzanne shot me a venomous look. She would never forgive me for this. ‘First you accuse Linda then Reverend James, and now me? Rafe, I told you everything… about the notes. Someone is setting me up.’

  I shook my head. ‘That’s the weird thing, Suzanne. You’re at the heart of this. Glen was talking about you to me before he died, and he also wrote you a note.’

  ‘What note? Another note?’ said Reverend James.

  Suzanne’s face was fiery red. She sure was not acting this time. She was furious. ‘I showed you that note in confidence, Rafe.’

  ‘It’s the truth game. Tell us what was in that note.’

  She stood and paced the floor. Speaking to the fire rather than to us, she said, ‘He was declaring his love for me.’

  ‘Every time I stumbled on the scene of a murder,’ I said, ‘I smelt your perfume. Emily can bear me out. Every time. Except of course when we found Mike outside. Can you explain that?’

  Suzanne stopped pacing and stared at me, tears forming in her eyes. ‘No.’

  ‘The note,’ I said, ‘says you planned to meet him at midnight.’

  She wiped one eye with her sleeve. ‘Of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t arrange a meeting with him at midnight. Or any other time. Why would I do that? I was trying to avoid him.’

  ‘And you say you didn’t write this note, even though it looks like your handwriting?’

  ‘How do you know what my handwriting is like?’

  ‘You’re kidding. At school we all received your “I just want to be friends” letters. We all kept them like precious artefacts.’

  Reverend James held up his hand. ‘Leave her alone. First you attack Linda, then me, now Suzanne. Come on, Rafe. Enough of this word sorcery.’

  ‘I’m just trying to fit the clues into the jigsaw puzzle to get a picture. Trying out hypotheses. I want to find out the truth.’

  Now the Reverend took his place at the front of the gathering. ‘Maybe I can also play this game, Rafe,’ he said and began a torrent of questions. ‘Where were you when Glen was killed? Why were you in the corridor snooping around? You say he was with a woman, but why should we believe you? He was with you and you killed him. You were the last to see Stephen too, and you lured him into the torture museum. You lured Danny there too. And then you conveniently discovered Mike’s corpse and came back to tell us. How do we know you didn’t drown him?’

  ‘Because I was here with you eating breakfast when Mike drowned.’

  James shook his head.

  ‘At least it’s out in the open,’ said Suzanne. ‘We know exactly what we think of one another. And it’s ugly.’

  ‘We all stand accused,’ I said. ‘Any of us could be the killer. Linda, Suzanne, Reverend James, me…’

  ‘Emily’s getting off lightly here,’ said Suzanne. She’s the only one not accused of being a serial killer.’

  I smiled. ‘It’s always the least suspected who is the murderer.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘We’ve opened up some pretty big wounds here today.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet,’ I said. ‘She’s not unscathed, you know.’

  ‘Let’s not go there,’ said Emily. ‘Really not.’ She gave me a hurtful look. This was betraying our trust, our blood brother–sister relationship. I knew that, and I felt terrible. But I had to flush out the murderer. Our lives were at stake. And she was key. I took a deep breath. Forgive me, Emily. ‘Yes,’ I said,’ I am going there. I think it’s directly relevant to the motivation of the killer.’

  Emily stood, fuming. ‘No, Rafe.’ She walked towards the kitchen. ‘Truth Session officially over. W
ho wants some coffee? I’m making.’

  Reverend James moved closer to the fire, turning his back on the rest of us. Linda joined him.

  ‘Reverend James,’ I called. ‘This is a Truth Session. Come back here and face the truth.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Suzanne.

  Emily closed the kitchen door behind her.

  Suzanne walked to the window, stared out at the whiteness. I stood next to her. ‘You had to bring up the notes,’ she said, under her breath. ‘I thought I could trust you.’

  I had made enemies of my friends now. But I had my reasons. ‘Sorry, Suzanne. I wanted to see everyone’s reactions and what they knew.’

  She cast a look back at the fireplace. ‘Reverend James, you mean.’

  I nodded.

  ‘What was all that about with Emily?’ she whispered.

  I shook my head. ‘Everyone has some hidden secret, some skeleton in the closet. But there are so many missing pieces here. Tell me what you know. Why you think you’re being framed?’

  She shook her head. ‘Jealousy. Revenge. I don’t know. I feel it’s me this killer is getting at.’

  ‘Or maybe that’s just your narcissistic way of thinking.’

  She gave me a hurt look.

  ‘Truth Session still on. Tell me about the skeletons in your closet, Suzanne.’ I don’t know how long I had been standing there with her, mesmerised by the snow outside, and having a conversation that was on the verge of flirting, bantering, teasing, but I felt uncomfortable, as if I was fraternising with the enemy somehow. I was getting information, interviewing suspects, I told myself, but it felt more like making peace with old wounds.

  I looked back at the fire and was concerned to see that Reverend James was not there. Linda was crouched on the settee, warming herself. I strode over. ‘Where’s the Reverend?’

  She looked up. She had tears in her eyes. ‘He went to the kitchen to help Emily, I think. I don’t know. Had to go to the toilet.’

  ‘Jesus, we’re not meant to wander around alone.’

  I walked into the kitchen. ‘Em, how’s that coffee coming along?’

  No Emily.

  No Reverend James.

  The pantry section of the kitchen hid another door. I pushed through it and saw that it led into the corridor and up the stairs. ‘Emily!’

  Now I panicked. I climbed the stairs to the first floor, raced along the corridor and barged into the library. The door from the library to the torture museum was open, and inside I heard thumping. ‘Emily!’

  Hackles rose on my neck, and my heart beat double time. I really didn’t want to go in alone, but I pushed through into the room. Icy wind blew onto my face. The first thing I smelt was Suzanne’s perfume.

  ‘Emily?’

  The decapitated body of Stephen on the guillotine; his head still on the floor, towelled and cushioned. Danny’s body impaled on five spikes in the iron maiden. Alison lying shrouded in a blanket. And in the corner, the Catherine wheel weighed down by a body lashed to its seven struts, tangled red hair, and a face covered with a blindfold, her mouth gagged by some hideous metal device. The perfume made me feel sick.

  8

  Eight maids a-milking

  It took three steps to reach her and another two seconds to remove the blindfold. She blinked at me.

  ‘Emily, you’re alive? Thank God.’

  She made an impatient noise.

  I recognised the device in her mouth as the pear of anguish. I had seen it on display on the table on the first day – a metal prong with four metal spiked petals that sprung open and tore a victim’s mouth, or other orifice. For some reason – some miracle – this torture instrument’s spring had not been released and I could remove it from her mouth. Gingerly, I pulled back her lips to avoid the sharp spike at the end of each flange tearing into her flesh. ‘Ugh,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t talk!’ I pushed down her tongue as I pulled the flange out of her mouth.

  I held her head. Checked for other injuries.

  She licked her lips. ‘I’m okay, except for that hideous sweet perfume.’

  I examined the ropes tying her to the wheel. She was only loosely tied. I grabbed the dagger and sliced through the strands, careful not to nick her skin. The ropes were supporting her, so I held her to stop her falling as I gently lifted her up. She stretched. ‘Ow, it hurts like hell.’

  ‘There’s a small tear in your cheek.’

  ‘Let’s get that bastard.’

  I stared at her. ‘You saw who it was?’

  She tried to sit up but then fell down again, holding her mouth. She nodded.

  I eased her gently back to a lying position. Then I took off my sweater and placed it under her head. ‘Reverend James?’

  The words echoed in the room. She nodded again. ‘I was in the kitchen and he grabbed me around the neck.’

  The rage bubbled in me. ‘And look here!’ I picked up the card attached to the top of the wheel. Seven swans a-swimming. ‘His calling card.’ She craned her neck to see. I showed her.

  ‘You sure it was him?’ I knew it was, but I wanted her confirmation. I tasted bile in my throat. Pure hatred. How dare he do this to Emily! But then she was alive. He had botched it somehow. Maybe he had been disturbed.

  ‘He came from behind, jabbed some dart into my neck. Then he stuffed some horribly sweet-tasting rag in my mouth.’

  I smelt the air. ‘Chloroform? Mixed with Suzanne’s perfume. I’m going to get him.’ I gripped the dagger tight.

  ‘I woke up here, tied on the wheel, this hideous thing in my mouth. Ugh. I thought I was a goner.’

  I raised the dagger, slashed at the Catherine wheel. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

  She clutched on to my arm. ‘Rafe, be careful.’

  I pulled the handcuffs out of my pocket, checked they were in working order, stuffed them back. ‘Can you walk? We have to get you out of here.’

  Her eyes were blazing.

  I led the way out of the room, dagger first, shielding Emily from any would-be attackers in the corridor. With her hobbling a little, we walked to her room, and I made sure it was safe. ‘Lock the door and I’ll find him.’

  ‘Rafe…?’ She held my hand, drew me close and hugged me tight. ‘Thanks.’

  I had to contain my rage. I was a logical thinker. But seeing Emily trussed and suffocated like that tipped me over the edge. I charged into the living room, dagger aloft. And there he was, sitting by the fire, warming himself, as if nothing had happened. Suzanne sat on his right, Linda on his left. Blind rage flooded me. ‘Reverend James!’

  Before he realised what I was doing, I lunged at him, clicked one handcuff on his right wrist, held the dagger at his gullet. My hands were trembling.

  He tried to stand, but I pressed him down again into his chair with the blade of the dagger. His eyes were wide with fear. Linda jumped up. ‘Rafe, what are you doing?’

  I pressed the blade under his chin, and my hand was so unsteady that it nicked his skin and drew blood. ‘Give me your other hand.’

  ‘Get away from me!’ His voice quivered as he pushed back into the chair to avoid the tip of the blade. I grabbed his left hand and clicked the second handcuff on him. ‘You bastard.’

  Linda rushed to her husband, but I blocked her with my arm. ‘Stay away, Linda, I’m warning you.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Reverend James raised his handcuffed hands in the air. ‘You can’t do this.’

  ‘Suzanne and Linda.’ I pointed into the corridor. ‘Go and tend to Emily, quick. She survived an attack on her life.’

  Suzanne stared at me. ‘But Emily’s in the kitchen.’

  ‘She’s in her room. She’s lucky to be alive.’ And to Reverend James, ‘I am taking charge, as I should have when I first suspected you. Now you will talk!’ I laid the flat edge of the blade against his neck.

  Reverend James squirmed in the chair to try to get away from me. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s happened to Emily? I went to
look for her in the kitchen but–’

  The dagger nicked his skin again and a line of blood oozed onto the blade. ‘You know bloody well. You did it!’

  Linda watched me in horror as I roughed up her husband. Yet he was still acting innocent. Terrified, but indignantly feigning innocence.

  ‘Come.’ I hauled him to his feet by his coat. ‘Up to my room.’ He stood, ready to make a bolt for it, but I grabbed his handcuffs so his arms were pulled in front of him. Then I frogmarched the protesting Reverend upstairs. He stumbled, cursing at me. ‘There’s a place in hell for you, Rafe,’ he spat. ‘God will make sure of that. At least spare the women.’

  I shoved him forward. ‘You still act out the charade that it was me? I saw with my own eyes what you did! You’re despicable.’

  When we reached my room, I pushed him inside and he fell onto the floor.

  I locked the door, pocketed the key. I spied a heavy chest in the corridor and pushed it across the doorway. Tied cotton thread across the doorway.

  Two bewildered women were cowering at the bottom of the stairs. ‘What are you waiting for?’ I shouted at them. ‘Emily needs help urgently.’

  I raced along the corridor and knocked on Emily’s door. ‘It’s Rafe. I have the bastard all tied up.’ I heard her scrambling to unlock her door and open it.

  Suzanne rushed to her. ‘My God, Emily.’

  Linda stared from the doorway, dazed. As if she could not believe what had just happened.

  ‘Sure there’s nothing broken?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s handcuffed, don’t you worry,’ I said. ‘All safe. You need a nice strong cup of coffee.’

  She nodded. We walked to the living room.

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Linda looked grateful to get away and into the kitchen. Once she was out of the room, I whispered to Suzanne. ‘He tried to murder her.’

  ‘Reverend James? You saw him, Emily?’

  ‘No, he grabbed me from behind. Jabbed some paralytic drug into my neck, and then smothered me with chloroform.’