by Matt Ferraz
“No wonder, darling! And it’s natural. I’ve seen this kind of situation before. It’s always awful when a person sees a loved one being murdered.”
Winifred was crying again. “I shouldn’t have left him when he broke his leg. I was supposed to make a call and stay by his side. If I had stayed…”
“Then you would be dead too,” said Grandma Bertha. Winifred sucked some more of her drink through the straw. Her nose was dripping, so Grandma Bertha passed her a tissue and made her blow into it.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now, I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened. The killer did it. Him, and no one else.”
Winifred nodded. “Thank you for being so kind. I need to find my mother.”
Grandma Bertha put her hand on Winifred’s shoulder. “Darling, your mother’s missing.”
“What? Since when? Did the killer get to her too?”
“That’s a possibility,” said Grandma Bertha. “And there’s another one.”
“What? You mean she’s a suspect?”
“The police think so, my dear,” said Grandma Bertha. “She vanished from the hotel this morning, and nobody’s seen her since. The police are looking for her.”
Winifred put her drink on the coffee table and got up. “I’m sorry. Thank you for everything, but I need to find my mum.”
Grandma Bertha held her gently by the arm. “They will find her sooner or later,” she said. “She left her car in the hotel the car park, o she can’t have gone far.”
“Please, let me go,” said Winifred, even though Grandma Bertha wasn’t holding her any more. She stopped on her way to the door. “We were going to run away, you know?” she said, sobbing. “Willy and me. Our parents didn’t like the idea of us being together. We had only known each other for a week, but I knew… I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“And did he feel the same?” asked Grandma Bertha.
Winifred nodded. “When I told Mum I loved him, she said I couldn’t see him any more. I told her he was a nice guy, he came from a good family and his father was wealthy, but Mum wouldn’t listen to me. She said I was all she had in the world, and I was ungrateful for leaving her for some boy I’d just met.”
Grandma Bertha scratched her chin. “Single parents can get jealous when their children start dating for the first time.”
“Oh, he wasn’t my first boyfriend,” she said. “Mum tried to hook me up with a boy who lives on our street. I went out with him a couple of times, but he got tired of me very quickly. Mum blamed me for that.”
“What about William?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Were you his first girlfriend?”
“No, he had others before me,” said Winifred. “His father always chased them away. He didn’t want his little baby to date. That’s why they were here. William’s dad, Paul, wanted to keep William away from his ex-girlfriend, who kept trying to get in contact with him. He thought that spending some time by the sea would make him forget her.”
“That ended up backfiring, huh?” said Grandma Bertha, then added, “Dear, have you heard of Romeo and Juliet?”
Winifred seemed confused. “Yes, sure… Everyone has! Isn’t that the story about two lovers who were destined to be together forever, but couldn’t?”
“That’s one way to put it,” said Grandma Bertha. “You see, Romeo and Juliet weren’t necessarily going to be together forever. Most people misunderstand the meaning of this story. It isn’t about a love that was going to last forever. Instead, it was a love that could have lasted either a week or a thousand years. But those kids didn’t have the chance to experiment, to get to know each other. Their families were enemies, and they didn’t want to give the relationship a chance. Hence the tragedy.”
“But our families weren’t rivals!” said Winifred. “My mother has never even met William’s father.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Well… They saw each other in the lobby once or twice, if that means anything.” She sighed. “But you just had to look at William’s father to realize he was afraid. Well, maybe not afraid. But William’s mother was sent to a mental hospital when he was little, and his dad was scared William would end the same way.”
“That’s interesting,” said Grandma Bertha, picking Winifred’s drink from the coffee table and handing it to her again. “How did you meet William?”
“By the rock,” she said. “The heart-shaped one. I didn’t like the crowded part of the beach. I don’t like my body, and didn’t want people to see me in a bikini. So, I sunbathed there.”
“Oh, but doesn’t that rock get very hot in the sun?”
Winifred nodded. “In the afternoon, yes. Earlier today, when I was waiting for him, there wasn’t much sun, but later it’s impossible to sit on the rock. But there’s a secret place under it, a small cave where you can hide and… Oh my God, what if the killer was hiding there all the time?”
“We have to tell the police about the cave. But you were telling me about when you met William.”
“Yes,” said Winifred. “One day I got to the rock and he was down there, in the cave. We were both shy, but we started talking. He thought he was too fat, I thought I was too skinny, so we understood each other. We walked around the beach, and then he took me for a burger… He was nice. He didn’t even try to kiss me that day.”
“That’s so cute!” said Grandma Bertha. “And then?”
“We went back to our rooms. I couldn’t sleep that night. All I could think about was Willy. I thought I was in love with him… but at the same time I was afraid. Afraid he didn’t feel the same. I’ve always been afraid of being abandoned.” Winifred smiled. “But that wasn’t the case. We met again, and again. He was like a best friend. He really listened to me. But there was something else between us. I wanted to kiss him, I really did. But at the same time, I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”
“And did you kiss him?”
“Only once,” she said. “On the lips. It was very tender. And then we said I love you. At the same time, can you believe it? That night I decided to tell Mum everything. She listened to me quietly. She knew who Willy was, and she wasn’t happy when I said I was in love with him. She started to pack. She wanted to leave the hotel, and I didn’t know why.”
“You didn’t leave because of the skin lotion, right?” said Grandma Bertha
Winifred was once again surprised. “How did you know that?”
Grandma Bertha gave her a toothless smile “I’ve heard about you and your mother. You won a competition run by a skin lotion brand, and your prize was two weeks here. That’s how you could afford it, wasn’t it?”
“Yes… We’re not rich. It’s not every day that people like us get to stay in a hotel like this.” She tried to remember what she had been talking about earlier. “Anyway, Mum couldn’t watch me all day, so I met Willy when I could. His father didn’t like me either. That’s why we decided to run away. He had some money in his college fund, and that would have been enough to support us while we looked for jobs. And then…”
“Then his father died and it all crumbled,” said Grandma Bertha. “That’s really sad.”
“He changed after that,” said Winifred. “It was like he didn’t want to be with me. I don’t know if he was just trying to follow his father’s wishes, or if there was more to it.”
Someone knocked at their door. “Miss Compson, the inspector wants to talk to you,” said a voice.
Winifred stared at Grandma Bertha, like she was waiting for her approval.
“You go now, sweetie,” she said. “And tell the police everything you just told me. Don’t hold back any information.”
“Okay,” said Winifred. “Thanks for being so kind to me.”
“You’re welcome,” said Grandma Bertha. “Drop by any time, and I’ll prepare you another float.”
Winifred said goodbye and went away. Grandma Bertha realized she had forgotten to ask more about Lisbon.
4
&
nbsp; Later that evening, Grandma Bertha was lying on her bed, her three dogs by her feet, switching channels on TV, looking for a horror flick. She couldn’t think about anything apart from her conversation with Winifred that afternoon. Many theories had gone through her mind about how – and why – Paul and William Robard had been murdered. But there was one very important missing piece that she needed to find to solve that mystery.
She was almost asleep when the phone by the bed rang. “That’s odd,” she said, even though only her dogs could hear her. Nobody ever called, except for room service, and it was far too late for that. Maybe it was Todd, concerned after hearing about the second murder. Grandma Bertha grabbed the phone and said hello.
“Is this Mrs Bertha?” said a tired voice.
“This is her. Who’s calling?”
A pause. “I just spoke to my daughter. She told me about you, about how you’ve helped her.”
“And where are you now, Mrs Compson?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Your daughter needs you.”
“I’m away,” said Mrs Compson. “I’m in a small hotel not far from there. That’s all I can say right now. They will find me soon, and will tie me to the murder. You see… I killed William Robard.”
Grandma Bertha frowned. “I hope that’s not what you told Winifred.”
“Of course not. She doesn’t know yet. But she’ll find out soon. It’ll be all over the news. I just wanted to talk to her one last time as her mother, the woman who raised her, not as the monster who strangled her boyfriend.”
“Why did you do it?” asked Grandma Bertha, turning off the TV with the remote. “Were you jealous? Because from what I gather, there’s much more to this case than a couple of parents afraid of their children growing up and leaving them.”
Mrs Compson coughed. “Please don’t ask me. Please don’t. God knows I’m going to see that face in front of me every night when I close my eyes.”
“So, I guess you didn’t have a choice about killing him” said Grandma Bertha. “What about Paul?”
“Paul?” said Mrs Compson. “Oh, of course. I… I had to kill him too.”
“What did you do with the knife?” asked Grandma Bertha. “The police never found it.”
“I threw it in the sea,” she said promptly. “They’ll never find it.”
“No, they won’t,” said Grandma Bertha seriously. “Because he wasn’t stabbed, remember? Paul Robard was hit on the head with a heavy object. You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Oh, shut up!” said Mrs Compson. “I’ll have to retell this story a lot. I don’t have to remember every single detail for you.”
“So why have you called me, Mrs Compson?”
“Marjorie,” she said. “Call me Marjorie. I’d feel better if you talked to me like a friend, or at least as a friend of my daughter. Because she’ll need one, Bertha.”
“I’m all ears, Marjorie,” said Grandma Bertha.
“I had to kill those people,” she said. “The reasons might surface with time, but I hope they don’t. I saw an opportunity and I went for it. It was for the greater good.”
“Some people would disagree.”
“That doesn’t matter now,” said Marjorie Compson. “I’m a clumsy woman. Not the kind of person who could plan and execute a murder perfectly. I think I did a good job, and my daughter will be able to get over it and heal from the pain these deaths have caused her.”
Grandma Bertha rubbed her eyes. “You might be overlooking a few psychological issues, my dear.”
“I just need you to do something for me, to make sure Winifred is safe,” Marjorie said. “You must destroy her mobile phone.”
That was not what Grandma Bertha was expecting. “Why?” she asked.
“There’s a message on it,” explained Marjorie. “I told you I was clumsy, Bertha. I did something really stupid. I was supposed to send a text to someone, but I sent it to Winifred by mistake.”
“Was that someone Paul Robard?”
“You don’t have to know that,” said Marjorie Compson. “I just need you to destroy her mobile before the police ask to see it. If you don’t, it could be the end for Winifred. And that poor boy will have died in vain.”
Though intrigued by Marjorie’s last sentence, Grandma Bertha didn’t bother to ask for an explanation. She knew she wouldn’t get one. “Can you assure me this is for Winifred’s good?”
“Yes,” said Marjorie Compson. “That’s my only concern now.”
“It should have been your concern earlier,” Bertha said. “And William’s welfare should have been Paul’s concern from the beginning. It doesn’t matter who killed who; this could all have been avoided if you hadn’t treated your children like pets who should obey you.”
“Oh, what do you know about that?” asked Marjorie, rage in her voice. “I didn’t raise that girl for the world; I raised her for me. And it didn’t take much for her to forget the mother who’d been by her side her whole life. No, in less than a week she was ready to run away with some boy she’d just met.”
“Yeah, and how did you know that?” asked Grandma Bertha. “How did you know she was going to run away?”
“Er…” asked Marjorie, confused.
“Forget it,” said Grandma Bertha. “Enough damage has been done. I’m going to talk to your daughter, but not because you asked me to. I’m going to do it because right now she’s alone in that awful room with only her thoughts for company.”
“Thank you anyway,” said Marjorie.
“Don’t thank me,” said Grandma Bertha. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” said Marjorie. “I don’t have time for a lecture.”
Grandma Bertha ignored her. “All this happened because you didn’t want Winifred and William to be together. Suddenly an innocent holiday romance has turned into two dead bodies and a young girl who’ll be scarred for life. I just want you to know that, no matter how this ends, Winifred might never be able to lead a normal life.”
“All I can hope,” said Marjorie, “is that she’s stronger than me.”
“She’d have to be stronger than Hercules,” said Grandma Bertha, just before Marjorie Compson hung up. Then Grandma Bertha said to herself, “But young girls sometimes are.”
Alone in the room, she thought of Winifred, who had fallen in love during her dream holiday, only for everything crumble around her. What would happen to her now? She’d go on living – but what kind of life would it be? Afraid of everyone, unable to start a relationship with another person. She was a good girl, and seemed to have a good relationship with her mother. What had gone wrong?
Grandma Bertha picked up the phone again and called reception. “Hello, could you put me through to Miss Compson’s room?” she said. It took some time to convince the receptionist that Winifred wouldn’t mind being contacted so late, but Grandma Bertha was finally put through.
“Who is this?” said Winifred in a weak voice.
“It’s Grandma Bertha,” she said. “Your mother called me.”
“She did?” said Winifred. “I told her how good you’d been to me. I didn’t think she was going to bother you…”
“I don’t mind,” said Grandma Bertha. “Listen, I need to talk to you. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Yes,” said Winifred. “I’m so tired, but can’t close my eyes.”
“Do you want to meet me at the café downstairs? There’s no waitress at this time of the evening, but they have a nice coffee machine.”
Winifred sounded intrigued. “What did she tell you?”
“I can’t tell you right now,” said Grandma Bertha. “But I have a few ideas. Meet me there and bring your phone. I think I’ll be able to clarify some things.”
“Okay,” said Winifred. “Meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
Grandma Bertha hung up and got out of bed. Things were starting to make sense, but there was still a piece of the puzzle that didn’t seem to fit. She was certain that piece would be hidden in the message Win
ifred had on her phone. That, and something about Lisbon.
5
Winifred was already there when Grandma Bertha arrived, sitting by a table with two steaming cups in front of her. “I hope you like cream and sugar,” she said.
“That sounds delicious,” said Grandma Bertha, sitting beside her. “How do you feel, dear?”
Winifred gave her a tired smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again,” she said. “Talking to you is the only thing that calms me down.”
Grandma Bertha took a sip of her coffee. “I understand your mum called you this evening,” she said. “What did she have to say?”
“She was a bit vague,” said Winifred. “She hardly mentioned Willy or his father. She just talked about how she missed me and how she hoped I could forgive her someday.” Winifred wasn’t looking at Grandma Bertha. Her mind was far away. When she finally spoke, her voice was weak and uncertain. “Do you think she killed them?”
“I can’t say for sure,” said Grandma Bertha. “There are still many things I don’t know. I need you to help me out with some information.”
“What kind of information?” asked Winifred.
“For example, what’s the deal with Lisbon?”
“Oh, that!” said Winifred. “It’s not important. Just a quirk Mum had. She hated Lisbon. She hated it when anyone mentioned it. I have no idea why.”
“Has she ever been there?”
“Not that I know,” said Winifred. “Although I’ve always suspected that Mum travelled a lot in her youth. She was forty-three when she had me, and there’s a lot about her life that she won’t tell me.”
Grandma Bertha nodded. “Let’s say your mum did some travelling. Let’s say she went to Lisbon. Something must have happened there to make her hate it so much.”
“That’s a stretch,” said Winifred. “We have no concrete reason to believe that. But I always found it odd. I saw her walk out of a cinema once just because one of the characters was Portuguese.”
“Sorry for asking,” said Grandma Bertha, “but is your mother prejudiced against any other nationality?”
