The Last of the Stanfields(108)
“Well, what?” George-Harrison pressed him.
“Forget it. It’s none of your business, kid. Let’s just say that the article convinced Edward that May had ulterior motives for coming to the masquerade ball that night, aside from simply spoiling his engagement. Their . . . encounter had been up on the second floor, right next to the scene of the crime. So, when he read that stupid article and saw how far his sister would go to get revenge on her own family, the pieces fell into place. All the time he had been . . . ‘talking’ with May . . . Sally-Anne had been robbing her own mother, snatching the thing Hanna loved most in the world right out from under her nose. You understand? Is that all clear enough for you?”
“Yes, crystal clear,” I cut in. I had spared George-Harrison some of the more sordid details of his mother’s retelling, and was relieved that Pierre had the good grace to do the same. “Tell us what happened to the painting,” I said.
“No one knows. Sally-Anne kept May completely in the dark, and I know May never had the painting in her possession.”
“How could she keep May in the dark if the two of them were living in the same apartment?”
“Well . . . they didn’t stay up in that loft very long. Edward Stanfield was so convinced of his sister’s guilt, he set out to thwart her plans and retrieve what she had stolen. You have to understand, Edward loved his mother very deeply. While it did hurt Hanna’s pride to have a small fortune in bonds stolen from her, the loss of the painting left her crushed, inconsolable. So, Edward decided to follow Sally-Anne and May. For days, he spied on them coming and going, everything. While the two busied themselves with the next issue of the newspaper, he staked them out, watching them through the window, sitting in his mother’s car so he wouldn’t be recognized. He even followed May to the bank, watching the entire time without her ever knowing. He saw her cash in a bearer bond to pay some suppliers and that was that: he had proof of their guilt, and it was irrefutable.
“Edward soon made another startling discovery. As May left the bank, she doubled over and puked her guts out onto the sidewalk. He thought maybe it was her nerves. But then it happened again, as soon as she stepped out of the taxi she had taken home. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. No sooner had she entered the loft than Edward jumped out of his mother’s car, climbed that tall flight of steps all the way to the very top, and began pounding on their door. What came next was absolutely horrible.
“Edward threatened to turn them over to the cops if the two thieves didn’t immediately return what they had stolen. The bank teller would testify about May cashing in the bond, and they’d both end up behind bars. May didn’t bother waiting for Sally-Anne’s response. She ran off to get the rest of the bonds. But the moment Edward demanded that Sally-Anne also return the painting, May finally understood what had happened. The argument raged out of control. Sally-Anne hurled insults at Edward, while May was furious with Sally-Anne. In short, it was a scorched-earth free-for-all. When Sally-Anne refused to return the painting, Edward asked what would become of May’s baby if its mother was rotting in a prison cell. Sally-Anne had no idea May was pregnant, and finding out like that was unimaginably painful. There was a brief, shocked silence. Each one of them was visibly shaken by the statement—Edward, because May didn’t deny it; May, for being exposed in front of her accomplice; and Sally-Anne, who had just pieced together who the father of May’s child was. At that point, Sally-Anne gave in and returned the painting to Edward.”
“Wait! Just wait,” George-Harrison cut in, forcing the words out with trembling lips. “Was Edward shaken because . . . because he was the father?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” sighed Pierre.
“Why? Why have you never told me this? Why wait all these long years?”
“Because of what happened next,” said Pierre, avoiding George-Harrison’s eyes. “But listen to me: think long and hard before I go on. Even if learning the truth might make you understand and forgive me, even if you finally see why your mother kept it from you all your life . . . the next part changes everything. Forever.”
“I’m ready, Pierre. I know she killed him.”
“You don’t know a thing, kid. So, I repeat: think long and hard. Because there’s no turning back.”
I took George-Harrison’s hand in my own, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles went white. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it would be best to stop the conversation there, for George-Harrison’s sake. But who, at that point, wouldn’t have wanted to know the truth?
George-Harrison nodded gravely at Pierre, and the old man at last continued the tale.
“As Edward walked out of the door to the loft, that god-awful son of a bitch just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Excuse my language, but he was rotten to his very core. It wasn’t enough that he had gotten what he came for; he couldn’t resist making one last threat from out there on the landing, this one the most deplorable of all.” The antiques dealer swallowed, then continued. “Edward threatened to rat them both out, unless May aborted the pregnancy. And he didn’t stop there. ‘My sister,’ he said, with an air of disgust, ‘is an orphan, nothing but a phony Stanfield.’ And after all Sally-Anne had done, he promised that she wouldn’t even be that for very much longer. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some bastard child ruin his marriage and tarnish his good name. To his mind, that heartless son of a bitch’s ultimatum was an act of mercy. Spare the child a life of welfare and food stamps while his mother rotted in prison . . . Better the child was never brought into the world to begin with . . .