“What?”No way. That’s… that’s not possible.
“How disgusting!” Lydia shrieked.
“Well, that’s delicious,” Morrie said, steepling his hands together. “And I’m guessing these medical files are the proof of that?”
“Apparently so. Professor Carmichael was acting as a medical authority on Alice’s article. She’d also given Alice a list of names of previous graduate students of Hathaway’s who might be willing to come forward and speak to claims of sexual harassment, giving the article a #metoo angle that would see it spread worldwide. Gerald had also given her the contact details of his girlfriend, Hannah, but Alice had lots of question marks beside her, as though she wasn’t certain Hannah would talk.”
“But how is it even possible? You can’t just marry your sister.”
“I’ve found some of Alice’s notes in a file here,” Morrie said, his eyes darting across the screen. “According to her, it seems to have gone like this. Hathaway and his sister grew up as spoiled children of rich if rather eccentric parents, who were themselves second cousins—”
“Gross!” Lydia sniffed.
“—and Jane Austen obsessives. Everything about their homes and lives was perfect Regency harmony, except their marriage. They went through a bitter divorce when Hathaway was a child. His father raised him, and the mother moved away to Eastern Europe with Hera, changing her name and identity in order to forever sever ties with the Hathaway family. The children were never supposed to meet again and the parents hoped they’d forget each other. But in secret, Hera researched Julius’ whereabouts and made contact. They were both in their teens at the time, and their fascination with their parents’ divorce and the plot to keep them apart blossomed into a forbidden romance. Hera came to England to attend university, and the two met and continued their relationship, bonding over their shared love of Regency ideals. Because the mother had altered their identity, it never registered as an issue when they went to get married. It only came to light when Hera was diagnosed with her condition and the hospital did DNA tests on Christina to ascertain if she had also inherited the genes. They found that her parental genes had a close family match – too close to be anything but brother and sister. Apparently, it was all hushed up with lots of Julius’ money and then the mother died and it was forgotten.”
“How does Alice know all this?”
“I don’t know,” Morrie scrolled through the flash drive. “But she has copies of letters between Julius and Hera that prove the whole thing. The way they read, Julius was the one pulling the strings, playing his charisma against Hera’s vulnerability to seduce his sister into deepening their relationship. In light of his other harassment charges, it builds somewhat of a vivid picture.”
“Isn’t Alice shagging Christina?” Heathcliff piped up. “That’s probably where the information came from.”
“But would Christina incriminate her own father?” I recalled the way she’d shrank away from him on the stairs. She wanted desperately to please him, but she was also afraid of him. “I can’t see her wanting this kind of information made public.”
“Perhaps she didn’t know Alice had copies of these letters.” Morrie rubbed his chin. “She may not even know about her mother’s lineage at all. Alice may have gained access to Hathaway’s files in some other way.”
“However she came about this information, it changes how we view what happened here,” Quoth said, running fingers through his long, fine hair. “Alice’s killer wanted to stop her from making this story public. Hathaway’s killer hated him because of one of his many crimes. And the words on Mina’s door still baffle me, but they give me great fear.”
“I still think Gerald did it,” I said, ticking off boxes on my fingers. “He was pissed at Professor Hathaway for plagiarizing his work and tanking his career. He’s a big guy, and a goth – you can’t tell me he doesn’t know enough about swords to make that kill. He had a tear in his shirt and a stain on his coat the night of the ball, and he was drinking all that booze like he was trying to cover up for something bad he did.”
“Okay, but then why kill Alice? Surely if this story came out, it would help him get reinstated at the university?”
“You forget – Alice figured out Gerald was the murderer. She was going to spill his secret, although why she wanted to tell me instead of going to the police is anyone’s guess. Maybe she spoke to Hannah and she gave Gerald away – I don’t know. He had to get rid of her before she exposed him. Maybe that’s why he wrote LIAR on her chest, in case she’d already sent something to her editor or written something in her notes.”
Morrie rubbed his chin. “Your explanation fits the facts, except for one small thing – why would Gerald write YOU’RE NEXT on your bedroom door?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m stumped on that, too. Perhaps he meant that Lydia would be Hathaway’s next victim, and Gerald was saving her by killing him…”
“That sounds like twisting facts to suit your theory, instead of having a theory to suit the facts.” Morrie tapped his fingers against the laptop. “I think Professor Carmichael is our murderer.”
“You’re crazy if you think that.”
“I assure you that any jury would find me perfectly sane. Gerald just doesn’t add up. Why go outside if you’d arranged a perfect murder from inside the house? Why write the words on your door? He didn’t even know you or Lydia. But Professor Carmichael couldn’t stand Hathaway. He humiliated her and she publicly threatened to make him pay. She knew that when the article came out she could destroy his career, but seeing him at this event was just too much. Maybe she didn’t trust Alice to write the story. Whatever the reason, she decides he has to die. She was near him in the antechamber, and had ample opportunity to put sleeping pills into his wine. Then she realizes that Alice would figure out she did it. Perhaps she realized that she’d slipped up somewhere during her interviews. So she kills Alice and tries to use the word LIAR to discredit herownevidence, should anyone find Alice’s files. As for the words on our door, Carmichael heard Cynthia talking about how clever we are at solving murders. She wanted to scare you away before you got too close to the case.” Morrie leaned back and cracked his knuckles, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “James Moriarty – one point. Evil sword-swinging professor – zero points.”
“Don’t celebrate yet. We haven’t caught the killer,” Heathcliff reminded him.
“All in good time. It looks like the answer to whoever killed our victims is going to be in Alice’s files,” Morrie said. “I’ll get to work.”
Quoth went out to eavesdrop on more police officers. With nothing to do, Heathcliff and I took a stroll around the hall. The place was clearing out. Guests poured down the stairs, snapping instructions to the harried staff. Security guards sauntered by, barking orders into their headsets and getting in the way. Cynthia stood in the center of the balcony, a bottle of wine in her hand and an expression of utter despair on her face.
“Hey Cynthia,” I waved. She started as we came up behind her. “I’m so sorry that the weekend had to end like this.”
“Oh, it’s a disaster!” Cynthia cried, sloshing the bottle around. I noticed it was over half empty. “All these guests are demanding refunds, and we have to find alternative accommodations, and I have a kitchen filled with Cornish game hens for tonight’s meal that are going completely to waste.”
“I know it looks bad now, but I’m sure it will all work out for the best.” I felt bad for her. She really had tried hard to create a wonderful weekend, and two people had been murdered in her home. “You know how much people love a scandal, especially a gory one. Wait for word to get around the Jane Austen community, and in a year’s time The Jane Austen Experience will be sold out again.”
“You’re a sweet girl,” she slurred. “No wonder Gladys and Mabel loved you so. No, I’m afraid the Jane Austen Experience will go the way of the dodo. At least Grey still has his plans, or I fear we wouldn’t survive. Would you like some wine?”
We declined and left her to her wallowing. I wanted to ask her what she meant by her husband’s ‘plans’ but she was clearly in no state to give a sensible answer.Isn’t it weird that Grey’s not here? Wouldn’t he come home after a murder to see if his wife was okay?I still hadn’t met the guy, but I didn’t have the best impression of him.
