by Ales Matko
She tried to get up out of the blood-smeared bed but only managed to fall out to the side and onto the carpet. She had barely hit the floor when steps were heard rushing in their direction. Everyone turned toward the door except Klauder, whose attention had been caught by something else.
''It was you, wasn’t it?'' Beatra snarled, still holding Antonia, but looking at Beatrice on the floor, decked out in fine jewelry that she hadn't bothered removing before going to bed.
Beatrice responded with a rambling, half-coherent speech that Klauder didn’t even try to decipher. Instead, he carefully reached in between the sheets.
Suddenly two maids stormed into the bedroom – the curly-haired Ignes and one the investigators didn't recognize. They were so beside themselves that they did not even notice the blood at first.
''Detective! Señor Beatra! The men have come! They're going to kill everyone!''
''Slow down, señora Ignes! What's going on?''
But she wasn't able to get another word out as a gunshot suddenly rang out from somewhere on the lower floors of the mansion. Everyone froze.
Beatra instructed the maids to stay with Beatrice and not let her leave, quickly freed himself from the grip of the terrified Antonia, and motioned to his partner.
''Let's go!''
Arriving in the lobby, they discovered a brawl in progress. It was Elsa and his bodyguards, a familiar enough sight, but this time they were not in their usual deployment. The guards had their boss standing against one of the walls at gunpoint with his back turned, his cheeks bruised, his mouth stuffed, and his hands tied. And standing next to him was none other than the ever-faithful Marcus, who had apparently suffered a shot to the back of the leg.
''Get the sister!'' demanded one of the men. ''Get Elizabeth and let's burn that witch and her voodoo brother!''
''Stop! You're making a big mistake!'' Klauder protested, stepping towards the group with his hands raised high. ''I know who's responsible for the killings, and it's not señor Elsa or Elizabeth!''
''The hell you say!'' one of the men shouted.
''I'm telling the truth!'' Klauder pleaded. ''Please, I'll explain everything if you'll just give me a chance!''
The men glanced around at each other.
''Should we shoot the fat one as well?'' one of them asked.
Beatra suddenly found his gift of speech.
''Gentlemen, stop this madness! Señor Klauder is a detective of impeccable reputation with many very tough cases under his belt! I assure you he isn't trying to trick you.''
Klauder bit his lip and tried to ignore the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.
''I will explain everything if you let me,'' he said, gasping. ''Please, I know it's hard. Losing your children like this would drive anyone into a blind desire for vengeance! But you would only be harming the innocent if you punished the master and his sister! Not that they're saints exactly, but they are not guilty of the crimes that have been committed here!'' He wiped the sweat off his forehead. ''Give me half an hour and I'll deliver you the real killer, the one who deserves your wrath. Por favor, gentlemen. Don't make this mistake.''
The argument that followed took only about fifteen seconds, but it was the longest quarter minute of Klauder's life. As the cacaphony of voices died down, one of the guards decided it was his place to speak for the entire inglorious bunch.
''You have ten minutes,'' he said. ''And If you try to trick us, we will skin you alive and leave you outside to freeze.''
''That's rather graphic,'' Klauder mumbled under his breath as he motioned Beatra to follow him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
''It was Beatrice, wasn’t it?'' Beatra asked, surprised to find himself rushing to keep up with the easily-winded Klauder. ''The evidence seems clear enough. She must have gotten high and gone on a murderous rampage and set Elizabeth up to take the fall. Then she came back to her chambers and fell asleep before she could clean herself up.''
Klauder stopped and faced his partner. ''That would be the obvious explanation, yes,'' he said. ''But this case is anything but obvious. Listen carefully and follow my instructions, inspector. We don't have a moment to lose.''
Fifteen minutes later, the dining room was packed. In accordance with Klauder's instructions, everyone was present: Elizabeth Elsa, scowling as usual; the intoxicated Beatrice, wearing clean clothes but still mumbling nonsense and barely able to sit up straight; Pilar and Antonia, looking uneasily around the giant room at the other guests; Feboj, with his caricaturish side burns and wild coiffure; and the heavy-set engineer, Duvali, biting his nails.
The majority of the staff were also present, including the senior maid Ignes and six or seven assorted other employees, but not Alejandra, who had ended up God only knows where. And then of course there was Marcus, for once armed with nothing but half a frown and a bandaged leg, and with him an entourage of mutinous guards looking to take revenge on whoever was most convenient.
Thanks to Klauder's persistent pleading, Elsa’s hands had been untied and the gag removed from his mouth. He was now silently waiting at the table, tapping on the wood with his fingers and plotting the execution of every man who had turned against him.
The room was buzzing like a bee hive in spring, but fell silent quickly when Klauder stepped away from Beatra, walked to the head of the table and cleared his throat.
''Thank you all for coming,'' he said, silently counting the number of assault rifles at the table. ''I wish I could have called this meeting sooner, and under different circumstances of course. But as the cliché goes, better late than never. And I do believe I will now be able to finally expose the culprit guilty of committing all the crimes that we have witnessed in the last few days.''
He went silent for a moment, but quickly resumed his introduction when some of the guards began giving him impatient looks.
''This all started when Ana-Maria went missing six days ago. And up until now, the inspector and I had not been able to track her down. Not only that, but after her disappearance, several children were brutally murdered in what seemed to have been some sort of ritual. Fortunately, however, a few highly revealing clues have been found that have made the investigation easier, starting with an object found in Ana-Maria’s room that was not discovered until four full days after she disappeared. I'm referring to an earring belonging to señora Elizabeth.''
It appeared that very few had knowledge of this, and many faces turned to look at her. But she did not take her spiteful eyes off Klauder's face even for an instant.
''On top of that,'' the detective continued, ''Elizabeth is apparently quite the occult enthusiast, as the inspector and I only recently learned. Another clue, a cloak that the perpetrator was seen wearing during his or her last murderous escapade, was also discovered in her room, along with the gun with which someone took a shot at me. Yet she persists in denying any involvement in the ...''
''Of course I do!'' Elizabeth erupted. ''I already told you I had nothing to do with those terrible crimes! I never even once fired that gun! And those messages were all meaningless gibberish! I would never write such nonsense!''
''Indeed, you wouldn't,'' Beatra opined, warming up his old theory. ''Unless of course you wanted to cleverly rule yourself out.''
Elizabeth did not acknowledge his remark. She spoke slowly and in a cold voice, her eyes fixed firmly on Klauder.
''Ana-Maria is my niece!''
''You keep saying that, señora. And yet you are not blood relatives,'' Klauder responded, to the apparent surprise of many of those present at the table.
''I love her like a daughter! I would never hurt her in any way!''
''I can believe that,'' the detective smiled. ''But what about the others? Because you lot should know that Ana-Maria’s disappearance had nothing whatsoever to do with the other crimes. They are entirely separate acts that were committed by entirely different people!''
The dining room was once again abuzz.
''What the hell are you talki
ng about?'' Elsa screeched, breaking his silence for the first time since being bound and gagged by his own employees.
''It’s really quite simple, señor. There were two chains of events that took place in the last week, and the reason we thought they were connected was that someone cleverly made it seem so. You see, the person who killed Benjamine and left that message at the playground was literally trying to take credit for someone else’s handiwork – your daughter’s kidnapping. This person then left a similarly spooky message in her room to make it seem as if she had already suffered the same fate as the boy, bribed one of the guards to throw a granade into the factory, and then proceeded to kill two more children.''
As Klauder spoke, all eyes in the dining room were riveted on him – all eyes, that is, except for Beatrice’s, which kept opening and closing at random intervals.
''In the end, we were left with two obvious suspects: Señoras Beatrice and Elizabeth. More and more evidence was accumulating, evidence implicating one or the other. As I’ve mentioned already, in the case of señor Elsa’s sister it was the earring, her connection to the occult, and a cloak we found in her apartment, as well as the revolver with one empty chamber. It also didn't help that she had a shaky alibi. This brings us to señora Beatrice, who never loved or even liked Ana-Maria, as everyone knows ...''
''But I didn't do anything to her!'' she stammered, to the surprise of everyone who thought she wasn't listening.
''You'll have to forgive Beatrice,'' Klauder continued. ''She's either drunk or high more or less continuously, as she suffers from bouts of depression and rage. And who could blame her, considering what she's had to go through? Who in her shoes wouldn't have lost their mind?''
Klauder reached into his inside vest pocket and procured a blood-stained knife.
''And when inspector Beatra and I found her today lying in a bloody bed with this right next to her, was there any room to doubt that she was the one behind the murders?''
There was an immediate uproar.
''Gentlemen, please let me finish! I'll have you know that neither of these lovely ladies is the guilty party! They've been set up. Incriminating evidence was purposely planted in order to frame them. But by whom? By one of the maids, perhaps?''
Ignes's jaw dropped as Klauder turned to her.
''It would be quite easy, would it not, for a housekeeper such as yourself to snatch an earring from Elizabeth's room and leave it behind Ana-Maria’s bed? To swipe her gun, use it to take a rather poor shot at me, then return it to her drawer, later returning to leave your coat behind for good measure? After all, you had access to all the apartments as part of your job. Framing señora Beatrice wouldn't be much harder, either. You would only have to sneak in and smear her sheets with the blood of the two girls you'd killed only a little while earlier while she lay passed out in a drunken stupor.''
''¡Madre mia!'' the old maid shrieked in protest, ''I did no such thing! Why would I ... How ... But wait!'' she squealed, suddenly able to speak in complete sentences. ''The keys! Yes, the keys to señora Elizabeth’s apartment! I couldn’t have done what you're suggesting, because the keys disappeared from the cabinet in the staff room sometime back! I've been meaning to tell you, detective, only ...''
Chief Inspector Beatra rolled his eyes. ''I see, señora Ignes. And you remembered to mention this only now?''
''I wanted to tell you sooner, but so many things were going on and I just simply forgot! I was so scared. I wasn't thinking straight.''
''When exactly were the keys supposedly lost, señora?'' Klauder inquired.
''I haven’t a clue, detective! I only noticed them missing recently!''
Klauder looked at her for a few seconds with narrow eyes, then slowly walked over and gently put his hand on her shoulder.
''I believe you, señora. And thank you for your invaluable input,'' he said, turning to again address the group. ''A clever and subtle plan, as you can see. Cunning measures have been taken. Someone has gone very far out of their way to enssure the innocent would be blamed for their misdeeds. And yet, this detective is not so easily fooled! Through all the layers of complexity, planted evidence, and other perfidious shenanigans, I early on smelled the stench of the real culprit - or rather, the fragrance.''
He turned to Pilar.
''Señora Pilar, it was your perfume I picked up on the day inspector Beatra and I went to talk to the chef, Pierre, may he rest in peace. And wouldn’t you know it, I smelled it again today, only a little while ago when we met at señora Beatrice’s apartment. But it was only after I got a look at your handwriting that I knew it was indeed you who had been having an affair with the dearly departed chef. You wrote the love note to him that had been discovered earlier, and had visited him on the very day the inspector and I arrived. Clearly, you were lovers. Hence your rather pronounced reaction when you found out Pierre had, shall we say, accidentally fallen out of the window! But it was you who had ordered him to kidnap Ana-Maria!''
Pilar bursted into tears.
''No!'' she exclaimed in desperation. ''I swear it wasn't me! It ... Yes, we were having an affair, I admit that! And yes, we met in secret the day you arrived and were together for a couple of hours before he had to report to work, just as you suggest. But I knew nothing about his involvement in the kidnapping! Please, detective, you have to believe me!''
Klauder let her stew for a little while longer, then finally handed her a handkerchief.
''It's okay, señora, for I do, in fact, believe you. I apologize for my tone, but I really needed these final few pieces of information contained in your confession.''
He thought for a moment and then addressed Antonia.
''Señora Mirral,'' he began, looking at her from the side. ''It has come to my attention that you and señora Beatrice were on bad terms some years ago. What was that all about?''
Antonia looked up at the detective as if he had fallen from the moon.
''What does that have to do with anything?'' she asked. She was trying to avoid answering, but Klauder kept staring at her until she finally relented. ''It was nothing serious, just a minor dispute. You know how us girls are.''
Klauder smiled.
''Of course. And am I correct that you have just recently settled this dispute of yours and become friends once again after not seeing each other for a few years?''
''You are correct, detective.''
''That's nice to hear. Señora Pilar tells me you've changed quite a bit since the old days. Apparently neither she nor Beatrice recognized you at first.''
Antonia flinched.
''People change, detective. We age, in case you've forgotten. And what’s more, I've had some health issues that have taken a toll on my looks as well.''
''Ah, yes,'' Klauder responded with a slightly disturbing cheerfulness. ''That's probably it, then. What kind of health problems are you referring to, if I may inquire?''
''That’s none of your business!'' she snapped.
''Perhaps not,'' the detective said, gesturing at the eerily silent contingent of Elsa's bodyguards, ''but I seriously doubt whether these gentlemen here see it that way.''
''Well, if you must know, I had a malignant growth in my throat,'' the outmaneuvered Antonia hissed.
''Cancer? I am truly sorry to hear that, señora. And this on top of the horrific injuries that you suffered to your spinal cord!''
The confusion in the room was palpable. No one seemed to know what the detective was talking about, Antonia included.
''I'm afraid you've lost me, detective,'' she said, as if she were being put on the spot.
''Well, if one’s spinal cord is severely injured, it's highly unlikely that one will ever be able to move normally again. Such trauma typically leaves people in wheelchairs. Now tell me, señora. How is it that you are still able to walk?''
Antonia was becoming visibly agitated.
''I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at, señor Klauder,'' she seethed.
''What I'm getting at
is how it's possible that after severing your spinal cord in a car accident about a year ago, you're now fully mobile again? Please don't misunderstand me, señora, I'm very happy to see you blessed with such a miraculous recovery. I just want to clarify.''
Before she could respond, Elsa's voice boomed from across the table:
''What in God's holy name are you babling about, detective?''
Klauder sighed.
''It's simple, señor Elsa. This woman is not Antonia Mirral. She's an imposter.''
Nervous whispering spread through the room like wildfire.
''Bullshit!''
''It is true,'' Beatra said. ''The detective asked me to call my associates down at the force and have them check into señora Mirral's background. As it turned out, your wife’s friend from the old days moved to Santa Benida a couple of years ago. In November of last year she was involved in a car accident, and has been bedridden ever since.''
Klauder was drilling into the blonde woman with his round, slightly bulging eyes. She stared back at him as if he had her hypnotised.
''Do you wish to add anything, señora?'' he asked rhetorically. ''No? Then allow me to continue. You arrived here on the same day as the inspector and I did, only a little bit earlier, after re-establishing contact with your – or rather, Antonia Mirral's –friend from the old days, Beatrice. We can hardly be surprised that she and Pilar didn't recognize you! You may have altered your look to resemble Antonia’s, but you were most certinly not her, so you made up a story about suffering from a disease that aged you and changed your looks. You then left the mansion at the first chance – shaking off señora Beatrice was not all that hard, I trust – and exited through the window in Ana-Maria’s room by climbing down the wooden trellis. I assume you did this because you weren't yet familiar with the layout of the mansion and were afraid someone might stop you if you simply walked out through the main gate. In any case, while traversing the grounds you came across that poor young boy, Benjamine, playing on the playground, at which time you murdered him and wrote that message on the wall in his blood. Then you used the cover of the fog to return to the mansion. I can’t say with certainty whether you climbed back up the trellis at that point, but either way, you left the window in Ana-Maria’s room ajar.''