‘But you did do something…’ I flicked the pages between my thumb and forefinger. ‘In here are pieces of evidence I’ve obtained from Artie Peverill. About how you and he and our entire family knew that cousin Quentin killed Omar Akhtar.’
She blinked frantically, her mind trying to catch up. ‘That mine worker?’ Her voice was getting higher now.
‘Yes,thatmine worker, and he has a name. You all knew Quentin murdered that man, and youallcovered for him, because Grandfather ordered you to. And you were all too willing to do his dirty work so you could inherit his fortune.’
Mother blinked at me, then the document. She snatched it and flicked through it, her eyes widening as she saw the extent of the evidence I had against her. She dropped it onto the table, her hands shaking. ‘Artie– he gave you all this?’
‘Not at first. But then I found a key piece of information… hidden away in Eugene’s office. The missing CCTV footage. Father really should have put a more difficult combination on the safe other than his birthday. But then, he never was very bright, was he? Anyway, I made a copy of the footage and went to speak to Mr Peverill… I think it’s safe to say that Artie’s life and career are now firmly held in my hands… Just a bit of time and distance away from all of this is all I need to finish him off, too. I don’t want any loose ends.’
Unabashed horror flashed across her features.
‘Ahh, the penny … it has finally dropped. You’ve finally caught up,’ I said with a small smile.
‘No,’ was all she could manage. ‘No, Miles. No!’
‘Yes.’ I felt every muscle tense. Finally, after everything I had done, all my meticulous planning– I had fulfilled it.
‘You murdered your father… Y-your brother…’
‘Yes. And all the others.’
‘No! I don’t believe you.’
‘When are you going to take the wool from your eyes?’
‘You’re covering for Olivia?—’
‘Olivia had nothing to do with it,’ I snapped.
She was still shaking her head. ‘Why? Why did you do it?’ Her words were strangled, like she knew why, but the answer was so unsatisfactory she couldn’t bear to hear it. ‘Not– not all because of thatbloody worker!’
‘Omar Akhtar. Say his name. He had a wife and children. Children who will grow up without their father because Quentin couldn’t control his rage.’
‘You didn’t even do this for the inheritance? You did it all for OmarfuckingAkhtar and his family?’ she spat.
‘I did it for him, yes; him and his children and his wife. I did it for those reasons, and many more. The money is a great perk, though, don’t get me wrong. And now I can help Omar’s family, not that anything will ever mend the destruction Quentin brought down upon them. I also did it for every time one of you put me down. Every time you controlled me and bent my life to your will. Every time Father watched as Grandpa hit me with that belt. Every time you pitted my brother and me against each other and made him into a soulless bastard. For every time one of you put my wife and my children down.’
‘I don’t– I don’t understand this.Shemusthave put you up to this!’
I shook my head slowly. ‘What sealed the deal was the night of the murder-mystery party, when you announced Quentin was soon to be released. Iknewhe had killed Omar, and I knew Grandfather had covered up for him. That’s why I ended the old bastard four years ago. But when you said he was getting out, I couldn’t have it. I couldn’t have him walking free, wondering who he would turn his rage onto next. I went looking in Grandfather’s office foranythingthat might extend his sentence. That’s when I saw the witness statements from you, Dad, Grandma, Fergus and Clem. The character references from his young, doting cousins, Beebee and Ceecee. You all knew what he did, and youvouchedfor him to get him a more lenient sentence.’
Mother whimpered.
‘What’s wrong?’ I shrugged. ‘I thought this was what you wanted? Aren’t I just being the man you made me to be? Have Istillnot proven myself to you?’ My tone was laced with sarcasm. I pushed the papers towards her once more. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you sign it or not, you are going down one way or another. I have planted and tampered with enough of the evidence to make it appear that you committed the murders.
‘The antifreeze in the garage used in Eugene’s scotch that only has your fingerprints on it. The knife, which Mrs Harlow told the police that she found under your bed, only to reappear inside the mechanism for the pool cover.
‘The duplicate key found in your bedroom that was used to unlock Mrs Harlow’s room. The fact you tried to kill Olivia with her own daffodil bulbs, which you’ve already admitted to. The diary found under the floorboards explaining it all in your distinctive handwriting.’
‘But– but you wouldn’t have killed Madge! You loved Mrs Harlow. I know you did!’
‘All right. I’ll let you in on a little secret. Madge saw me slip the cardamom into the eggnog. I considered letting her live, but I didn’t want her to have to lie or go through the torment of seeing you hauled to prison and not be able to tell the truth. But she still wanted to protect me, after a lifetime of seeing how rotten to the core you all are. It was regrettable. Believe me, I fought with it long and hard. But she didn’t suffer– the sleeping pills saw to that. I had placed a highly flammable Christmas stocking too near the fire in her room. I’d filled it with combustibles, and I assume once it heated enough it set alight, dropped to the floor and the rest is history.’
She was vigorously shaking her head. ‘They will know it wasn’t me. They will see I am innocent.’
‘They won’t. Don’t you see? Even if you can prove that it was me, you will still go to prison for what you did to cover up Quentin’s crime, and for Olivia’s attempted murder. There is no way out of this, Mother… Well… except…’
‘Except what?’ she cried desperately.
