Emma Frost Mystery Box Set 4 Page 17

  “Victor, stop. Please, just stop, will you?”

  “…For her lips were the color of the roses that grew down the river, all bloody and wild…”

  “Victor!”

  “…From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one…”

  “VICTOR! STOP!”

  It was no use. He continued to sing it until he had been through the verse ten times, then suddenly, his voice disappeared and there was nothing there.

  “Victor?” I asked.

  Morten approached me. “What is he saying?”

  “He is singing. Or he was. I think he hung up.”

  67

  April 1978

  Violet waited a week before one morning she was told that she was being released from the hospital, and that they would come and take her back to The Good Shepherd. The doctor who told her the news didn’t wait for her reaction or her questions before he left.

  “Released?” she asked the nurse who remained behind. “But…wait, what about my child?”

  The nurse just shook her head before she left as well. Violet wanted to scream after her and the doctor, but knew it was no use. They would only strap her down like they had done the last time she had screamed and yelled at them because she so desperately wanted to see her baby.

  They still hadn’t allowed her to see him. It was unbearable. She couldn’t eat or sleep because she longed so badly to hold him in her arms. Why wouldn’t they let her see him? Were they afraid she would harm him or something? She didn’t understand. At first, they had kept telling her that he was too weak, that he needed to regain strength before she was allowed to be with him. Violet had finally accepted that, even though she didn’t understand how being away from his mother could benefit him in any way. She didn’t have to hold him, just holding his hand would do. Just SEEING him would do. As the days passed, Violet grew more and more desperate, and soon the nurses and doctors only shook their heads when she asked. She could no longer get an answer out of them. And now this? They were discharging her? Sending her back to the home without the baby?

  Don’t lose it, Violet. You have to stay calm. They’ll just strap you down again. Remember how much it hurt? How tight those straps were? Don’t do it. Don’t go there again. You’ll never get to see him if they think you’re crazy.

  They came before noon. Mother Superior and Sister Mulligan. They didn’t say anything, just spoke shortly with the nurse. Sister Mulligan avoided Violet’s eyes. She was looking at the floor all the time, while Mother Superior spoke to the nurse. Violet felt the desperation boil inside of her. What was she supposed to do? Leave the hospital without her baby? She felt like crying. She felt like screaming, but kept her calm.

  “Come on,” Mother Superior said, when they were done talking. “We’re leaving now. Come on, I said. We don’t have all day.”

  “But…” Violet said.

  “No buts. Come on. We have to go.”

  “What about…what about my baby?” she finally managed to ask through tears.

  “What about it?” Mother Superior said. “Don’t start again with all your trouble.”

  “I need to know where my baby is,” Violet said.

  Mother Superior sighed deeply. “Well, if you must know, it’s dead. There you go. You gave birth to a dead child. It’s all for the best, really. You’re hardly fit to be a mother. Now, come on, will you?”

  Violet stared at the three women in front of her. No one wanted to look at her; they all avoided her gaze. She couldn’t believe this. Tears streamed across her cheeks. She slid down from the bed and approached the nurse.

  “Is it true? Is my baby really dead?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger and deep grief. “Is he dead?”

  The nurse finally looked at her, then nodded, her lips tightened. “Yes,” she said.

  But Violet didn’t believe her. She wanted to make sure they weren’t lying to her, so she approached the one woman she had been able to trust in her life. Sister Mulligan still didn’t want to look at her. Violet was shivering with anxiety. Was this really true? Had she lost the baby? Why hadn’t anyone told her this before? Why? Was that why they hadn’t let her see him? Had they been afraid to tell her?

  “Is it true?” she asked, addressed to Sister Mulligan. “Is it true that my baby has died?”

  Sister Mulligan looked up and into her eyes. Violet could tell she was about to cry herself. She knew she wouldn’t lie to her. If anyone knew how badly Violet wanted this baby, it was Sister Ryanne Mulligan. If anyone knew how devastated Violet would be, it was her. Sister Mulligan had tears in her eyes when she looked at her and nodded.

  “Yes. Yes, my sweet child. It is true.”

  Violet couldn’t believe it. She fell to her knees on the hard hospital floor. She was crying, looking at all three women like she was waiting for them to tell her it was all just a joke, they didn’t really mean it. But they didn’t. Sister Mulligan and the nurse both wiped tears away, while Violet’s world crashed in front of them.

  “Now, enough of all this sobbing,” Mother Superior said, and grabbed Violet by the arm. “These things happen from time to time. Life moves on. And so do we. Now, let’s get you home.”

  68

  July 2015

  Breaking into Mrs. Delaney’s house wasn’t exactly difficult, since the front door wasn’t even locked. We simply walked under the police tape and walked right in. My only worry was the neighbors, in case they saw us, but I knew there was some local soccer match going on right now, and all the locals, whether they liked soccer or not, were watching. It was our advantage.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Morten said as we entered. We were both wearing plastic gloves to make sure we didn’t leave further evidence for the dear inspector. We passed the area downstairs where she had been found on the floor, and the blood marks on the wood made a chill run down my spine. On the walls, you could still see where they had dusted for fingerprints. I wondered if the killer had even left any? Would he be so stupid as to not wear gloves? How had he even entered the house? There was no sign of breaking and entering anywhere. No broken windows or doors. Had the perpetrator waited for her somewhere in the house? Had she let him inside because she knew him?

  “Let’s try and go upstairs,” I said.

  Morten followed me. I went into Mrs. Delaney’s bedroom and opened the drawers. Her clothes were so neatly folded. Even her handkerchiefs were ironed and folded. I had no idea anyone still did that. Or that anyone still used handkerchiefs.

  “Nothing here,” Morten said, as she went through all the drawers in a big wooden dresser.

  “Try over there,” I said, and pointed at her closet.

  Morten opened it. Dresses, mostly black, hung neatly in a row. Everything was so well arranged, so immaculate. I felt almost bad for destroying it and tried hard to put everything back the way it was. I never was good with that kind of thing. My own clothes were always just thrown inside the closet and the door closed as fast as possible so nothing could fall out. Until the next time I opened the door, that was.

  “I found something,” Morten said, while I had my nose in a drawer of her nightstand.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A shoe box. It was placed on the shelf up there.”

  “Try and open it.”

  He pulled off the lid. “Sure isn’t shoes,” he said, and showed the contents to me. It looked like pictures and letters. We emptied everything on the bed and started going through it. It was mostly pictures of what I believed had to be Fiona as a child. I couldn’t help but think that Anna Delaney had been a devoted mother. Just like the house, the child was also always immaculately dressed and with her hair put in a ponytail. There were many pictures of her from the church or with members of the church and especially a lot of her and Father Allen. He kept showing up in most of the pictures.

  “What is it with this guy?” I asked. “He’s everywhere.”

  Morten looked over my shoulder. “Well, Mrs. Delane
y was a woman of the church. She wanted to raise Fiona in the church as well. That’s not so strange, I guess.”

  “Mmm,” I said, and put the photos back in the shoebox. “There’s nothing here we can use,” I said, and asked Morten to put it back.

  I sat on the bed and looked around the room. Where would I hide something that I didn’t want anyone else to find?

  I let a glance examine the room, every corner and dresser, even the chair in the corner that looked like it had been well used for reading. There was a book on the end table next to it. I got up and walked to the book. It was some Christian book. It looked like it hadn’t been read at all. On the bookshelf next to it I spotted the Bible. I pulled it out. It was new too and hadn’t been read at all. On the first page, Father Allen had written a little message for her.

  For Sister Delaney for her life-long service to her community.

  I put it back, then looked at the other books, then back at Morten.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “If you were a former nun, a devoted Catholic, and a perfectionist like Mrs. Delaney, what kind of book would you leave out for people to see in case they found their way up here by accident?”

  Morten shrugged.

  “Any kind of Christian book,” I said, like the one on the table. It has never been read. Neither has the Bible. My guess is, our dear Mrs. Delaney read something completely different when alone up here and no one could see her.”

  “So?”

  “So…” I said, and let my fingers walk across the backs of the many books on her shelf until I stopped at one that was very different than the rest. “See, all these titles are Christian books, the kind you would expect her to read. Except for this one.” I pulled it out and showed it to him.

  “Fifty Shades of Grey?” he said with a grin.

  “Yes. You see, no one would have noticed when it was just hidden among the other books, so no one would think to look inside of it, but…” I opened the book that had been visibly read over and over again, and a piece of paper fell to the ground. I picked it up and looked at Morten.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? And don’t start talking about food again,” I said.

  “I wasn’t going to,” he said, and grabbed the piece of paper from my hand and opened it. Then he looked at me.

  “Bingo!”

  69

  July 2015

  “They tell me you’re dead. I can’t believe this has happened to you. After all these days and months I have waited for you and carried you inside of me, and then I never got to hold you in my arms? I feel so lost, so alone. No one at the home seems to understand my melancholy. They keep telling me to get out of bed, to eat, to work, and to go to sleep. They tell me to shower, to brush my teeth, even to go to the toilet. I don’t do it on my own anymore. The other day, I sat down and peed all over the floor because I didn’t have the strength to drag my body to the toilet. They beat me, but I didn’t care. I don’t care about them or anything else anymore. They can beat me, yell at me, and lock me out on the balcony; I don’t care. I have no reason to keep living. Not when I can’t have you. Not without you. I’m writing this as my last letter. I will make sure they lock me out on the balcony again tonight, and then I will jump to meet you in death. See you on the other side, my love.”

  I looked at Morten. We were sitting in the car while reading the letter from Mrs. Delaney’s book.

  “Is that it? There must be more,” Morten said.

  I shook my head. “It’s signed, love Violet who will always be your mother in life as well as in death.”

  “That’s quite disturbing,” Morten said.

  “So, she never had the baby,” I mumbled.

  Morten started the car and drove back towards the hotel.

  “What was that?”

  “She never had her baby. It died,” I said.

  “They say you’re dead,” he said, repeating the first sentence of the letter. “What does that mean?”

  “That she didn’t see the dead baby herself. Maybe that she didn’t believe the baby was dead when she gave birth to it,” I said.

  “So, it must have died after birth?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know.”

  “Who is this Violet anyway? Have you ever heard of her?” he continued.

  “No. I think we need to find out who she was. But it might be harder than you think. If there is a secret hidden there, they probably won’t just tell us everything about her.”

  “And we don’t have her last name,” he said.

  “I can maybe ask Bradan in the lobby if there is a Violet living in the town, but my guess is she is no longer around. I mean, if I lost a child, I don’t think I would stick around for very long.”

  Morten went quiet. We both did. We didn’t speak again until we reached the hotel. Bradan was standing behind the counter as usual. He smiled when he saw us. He was probably the only one who didn’t look at us like we were murderers.

  “Out for a nice dinner, were we?” he asked, as he found our key.

  I smiled. “Yes. Very nice. At McGill’s. Should have chosen the fish and chips, but went with the steak instead. Big mistake.”

  Bradan laughed. “He does a nice corned beef as well, the old McGill.”

  “Any news?” I asked and looked at the TV screen above him in the lobby that was always on with the sound turned down.

  “Not as far as I know,” he said.

  “No surprises in our room either?” Morten asked.

  “Not today, Mr. Bredballe,” he said.

  “Say, do you by any chance know if there is a woman named Violet living around here?”

  Bradan looked at me, then shook his head. “We have eighteen hundred people living in this town, so there might be. I can’t say for sure. Never heard of her, though.”

  “Okay. I knew it was a long shot, but thanks anyway.”

  “Any time.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  70

  May 1978

  She had lost the will to live. Without the baby, she saw no reason to continue on. Every morning, the nuns had to drag her out of bed. At breakfast, she refused to eat, and at the laundry, she refused to work. They tried to punish her. They tried scolding her, beating her, locking her in a small room for hours without food or access to the toilet, but nothing helped. Violet simply refused to live.

  “You have to eat,” Sister Mulligan said one morning as Violet once again refused to take in food.

  The sister came to her and sat next to her on the bench. Violet didn’t look at her. Sister Mulligan put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Your bones are sticking out everywhere, Violet. You’re so skinny I’m afraid for you.”

  “I don’t care if I die,” Violet grumbled. “Now, leave me alone.”

  Sister Mulligan left. She had tried again and again to talk sense into Violet, but it was no use. She wanted to get punished. She wanted them to lock her out on the balcony again so she could jump. That was her plan.

  She thought often about Ava and how badly her life had turned out. Then she wondered about the friend that had escaped with Ava and wondered why they had never heard anything about her. There had been no stories about her turning up dead in an alley or elsewhere. Had she made it somehow? Was she out there in the land of the living?

  Every day when she opened her eyes, Violet regretted not having gone with Ava when she asked her. She couldn’t help thinking that maybe if she had, her baby would have made it. He would still be alive. The more the days passed, the more she wondered if the nuns did something to her baby, if they were the reason he wasn’t here anymore.

  They had buried him in the back of the convent and Violet was allowed to visit his grave once a week. She hadn’t even been allowed to see him before he was put in the ground. She had no idea what he had looked like.

  “There is someone here to see you.”

  Violet looked up from the table with th
e food she hadn’t touched. Sister Delaney was standing in front of her, her lips tight, as usual. Violet didn’t understand. Someone here to see her? In the six months she had been at The Good Shepherd, no one had been here to visit. Not her brothers, not even her father. Who could this be?

  “Who? Who is it?”

  Sister Delaney looked at Violet. “It’s someone who has come to take you away from here. Go pack your things. Hurry up.”

  Violet couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Going to take her away from here? Who could it be?

  Violet felt weak, but suddenly filled with hope. Her body had lost its strength, but by her will alone, she managed to pick herself up and run up the stairs.

  Who can it be that has come to take me away? Who? Is it one of my brothers? Is it my father? Could it be…gasp…could it be…?

  Violet didn’t dare to think the thought to an end. But it had to be, didn’t it? Ever since she had arrived at this atrocious place, she had hoped, wished, and believed that he would come and get her some day. That he would change his mind and realize how much he loved her, that they belonged together.

  Violet grabbed the only thing she wanted to bring with her from this place. Her diary. The book where she had been writing to her unborn baby. The diary that Conan had given her.

  “Conan has come for me,” she mumbled, as she stormed to Mother Superior’s office downstairs. “It must be him.”

  She took in a deep breath and laid her hand on the door handle, visualizing herself in his arms once she saw him behind that door.

  She pushed it open and spotted Mother Superior with a man. When she saw his face, she froze completely.

  That’s not him! That’s not Conan!

  “Hello, Violet,” Mother Superior said.

  The man smiled at her.

  “This is Father Allen. He will take care of you from now on.”