The Magnolia Palace(93)

Bertha winced, as if protecting her body from a physical blow. She sat on the bed, her hands twisting. Finally, something in her surrendered. “They say the wave was seventy-five feet high, as tall as the treetops. I’d been with my aunt in the hills, hunting mushrooms. We watched as it wiped out a wire factory, where the furnaces exploded and rolls of barbed wire became caught up in the wave. I could see my parents and two sisters emerge from our house, drawn by the sound of explosions. It was Memorial Day, everyone was at home. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but we were too far away and the sound of the destruction was deafening. I always wonder, did they die from drowning, unable to breathe? Or did they bleed to death, after being strafed by barbed wire? Or some dreadful combination of the two?”

The effort of the confession left Bertha trembling. “So yes, it’s no coincidence that I ended up working for the Fricks. I wanted to make them pay somehow. But once I got here, my courage flagged. They were real people, not monsters. I hated myself for my weakness, but I kept on, figuring one day I’d find the strength to act.”

Lillian folded her arms. “So you finally found your courage.”

“No. I didn’t kill him. I almost did, but I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean? You were awake that night, the night of his death. I saw you.”

“I had been asked to stay up in case Mr. Frick or Miss Helen needed anything. I went into his bathroom and I saw the bottle of Veronal sitting there. My father used to take it for his insomnia and I took that as a sign that this was my chance, finally. For four years, I had bided my time.”

Bertha’s mouth contorted, as if she were about to cry. “I filled a glass with water, and then I picked up the Veronal and opened the stopper. But my hands were shaking so; I simply couldn’t go through with it. I thought of Roddy, and how we plan to be married in the spring, of our promise to each other. I realized that killing Mr. Frick wouldn’t bring my family back, but it could destroy the chance I have at making my own. So I placed the bottle back down on the side of the sink, put back the stopper, and fled. I didn’t go through with it, I swear.”

Lillian studied her. “But the bottle wasn’t next to the glass when I went into the bathroom.” She could picture it perfectly, the lone glass sitting there on the side of the sink, no Veronal in sight.

“That was how I left it.”

Which meant someone else had come in and finished off the job before spiriting away the evidence.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” cried Bertha. “For what I almost did. I’ll confess, tell them everything.”

Bertha’s story broke Lillian’s heart. She couldn’t blame her, even if Lillian had gotten swept up in the aftermath. And she hadn’t done anything wrong. “No. You have Roddy. Go get married and get away from here, all right? Promise me that.”

“I promise.” Her eyes were red. “You know, I wasn’t the only person in the art gallery the day the diamond was stolen.”

“No? Miss Helen and I were in there for some time, and we didn’t see anyone else.”

“Then they were hiding.”

“Who? Where?” She paused, waiting for an answer. “Bertha?”

Bertha swallowed. And began to speak.



* * *





Lillian carefully climbed back into her own room after her talk with Bertha, still shaking from what she’d heard. She waited, standing right next to the door, until she heard footsteps, and then called out weakly. “Who’s there? Is someone out there?”

The person drew closer.

“Yes, Miss Lilly?” She recognized the voice as the head housekeeper. Perfect.

“I have to go to the women’s room. I’m not feeling well. Would you mind letting me out?”

“We were told not to.”

“I’m quite ill. I’m going to be sick. You can stand watch, if you like.”

After a moment, the key sounded in the lock and the door swung open. The housekeeper tilted her head down the hall. “Off you go. Make it quick.”

Lillian went into the women’s bathroom and locked herself in the far stall. After a few minutes, the housekeeper ventured in. “What’s going on in here? Are you finished?”

Lillian groaned. “I can’t go anywhere. Can you call for a doctor? I think it’s serious.”

“Are you sure?”

Lillian made a retching noise that surprised even her with its indelicateness.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

As soon as the woman left, Lillian let herself out and down the front stairs to the second floor, treading as lightly as she could. She heard a couple of servants on the main stairway, but was able to duck into the small foyer off the landing to avoid them. From there, it was easy to slip through the breakfast room and service pantry, and finally into Mrs. Frick’s boudoir.

“What on earth!”

Mrs. Frick sat behind a small desk, writing in a leather-bound book, while Miss Winnie was perched on a chaise longue along the far wall.

Lillian held out her hands. “I’m here to apologize for my untruths. I thought you should hear them from me.”

“Untruths?” sputtered Mrs. Frick. “Lies is more like it.” She gestured to Miss Winnie. “Call for Kearns at once.”