The Pearl Crucible - A Dardana Fenek Mystery - SOLENE, THELUMENE, AND ALKIMILA (Part 2)
(Chapter 42 Part 2)
“Yes, Sir. He asked me to examine the ground-car.”
“Which you did not have the expertise to examine.”
“He paid me fifty drachms, Sir.”
Brigadier Deniz snorted. “You’d examine anything for fifty drachms, girl?”
“Yes, Sir.”
There was laughter, and someone made a lewd suggestion. I kept my face composed, stupid, tank-girl, empty eyes, hands properly folded. Efan was impassive, not that I looked at him for support.
“Silence,” said the prosecutor.
“Go on, girl,” Deniz said.
“Barsina and I went to the Fortunato palaco. Everyone was gone. We were told later by Miss Alkimila and the majordomo that they were sent to a music-hall show, and the girls were all sent to bed. Barsina and I got no answer at the door but found the lock jammed at the gate to the mews in the alley.”
“Did you examine the ground-car?”
“I never had the chance. We saw it but went to find Fortunato first.”
“Go on.”
“We then made our way through the garden around the house, trying doors until we found the door to the library had its lock jammed as well.”
“Someone had prepared for a break-in that way, you surmised? Left the way plain for an external murderer? The gate and the door?”
“It seemed plausible at the time, but I feel it was a ruse. The investigators were meant to blame a servant leaving a path for a nonexistent killer. We found Mist’ Fortunato murdered with a blow by a small statue. We discovered a tag from a key in his pocket, marked Meisje, and a similar folder with contents missing. Majordomo heard us in the house, and militia was summoned. I was struck at once that the staff had been sent away, and then Fortunato was murdered.”
Alkimila looked contemptuous.
“I was present at the questioning of Fortunato’s bedgirls, and questioned Subdirector Miss Nunzia Azzopardo, where I learned Fortunato treated female acquaintances no better than bound servants. I began fearing there might be a host of suspects. Miss Azzopardo plainly said she’d be one.”
“Fortunato’s habits were known,” Deniz said.
I wanted to ask, Why was nothing done? but didn’t want to antagonize them. “Then, Sir, I was invited to speak to Miss Solene Zenithar.”
She looked directly at me.
“She offered to tell me who was responsible for the murder, if I returned Barsina to her. I declined, but she coerced me into taking a package to Miss Alkimila.”
“Coerced how?” the prosecutor said.
“She implied she would turn me over to Miss Thelumene, from whom I ran away. Miss Thelumene intends to execute me for repeatedly running away.”
“You’re a tank-girl?” Deniz said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re conditioned not to run away.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How did you?”
“I do not know, Sir. Miss tormented me for years. My conditioning is perhaps weakened.”
She glared.
“What was in this package?”
“I believe it was a… destructive device, Sir, used to break the door at the State Gallery.”
Solene’s eyes narrowed.
“She threatened me not to speak of it. She has offered to save me from Miss Thelumene, even though Miss Thelumene is a friend of Alkimila’s and aware of her crime.”
“So you say,” the prosecutor inquired, “that Alkimila broke the door, that she stole the painting?”
“She left her blood behind on the floor,” I said. “The blood has been tested. It is a fact.”
The prosecutor in his cloth of gold and the brigadier in his stately robes were silent a long moment. “Brother Leono Sesa,” Deniz said, grudging. It was not a question.
“The tests confirm,” Efan said quietly. “The girl is correct.”
“Go on, girl.”
“I spoke with others about the painting. I learned from Professor Doctor Mullinax about the value of the painting; I discovered that most of the investors were interested in minerals from Zoan but that Miss Scyros was interested in the art, hoping to sell a line of contract-girls made to look like the girl in the painting, this Meisje. Miss Scyros hired me to find the painting before the opening.”
“Did she?” Deniz said as she gave me a bland look. “She had a bit of faith in you. How much did she pay you?”
“She offered to protect me from Miss Thelumene. If I failed, I would die.”
“And?”
“Sir, I was … taken to Helioshad, and I recovered the painting from the hands of Miss Alkimila and Miss Thelumene.”
“Girl,” the prosecutor said, “what was Alkimila’s motivation?”
“Hatred of her father—for his abuse of her as he abused other women—and a desire to be independent in her house. She was willing to sacrifice nearly twenty servants to crucifixion—twenty, I guess, if you count Barsina and me—to do so. She made it appear the house was broken into, descended from her women’s quarters using a fire-ladder, and climbed into the main house through a window—she left a sandal mark behind, and, ah, the brother here can confirm that. No servant would have climbed into the house wearing sandals, and it was a woman’s size of foot. She worked with her friend Miss Thelumene to do this.”
“What was Solene’s motivation?”
“Miss Orestia Scyros press-ganged her younger daughter and indentured her. Miss Solene was motivated by revenge, but she didn’t intend for murder to happen. Indeed, it angered her. It jeopardized the success of her plan to reacquire Barsina—for reasons I am sure you Sirs know better than I—and she abandoned Miss Alkimila into the hands of justice.”
“And Thelumene?”
“She worked with Alkimila for friendship, and because I was working the case, I could be lured and trapped into her hands. If she has me tormented and executed in front of her agrivilla’s servants, then her father will cease pressuring her to take a marriage she does not want since she can prove control over them and run the estate as it should be run.”
All three women looked at me with detestation.
“It is curious,” Deniz said, “that you worked so diligently to reveal them when your success—and even your failure—results in your death, girl.”
“I must pursue justice,” I said shakily. “I had to pursue Barsina’s safety. I could not live if she came to harm, and my choice of vocation was subject to question if I failed at it—”
“Vocation?” Scorn. “Questioned? By whom?”
“By me, Sir, A tank-girl must succeed, Sir, or we suffer inside.—Mist’ Fortunato seems to have been … a man of deep failings and unmourned, but he trusted me with his life, and I at once failed him. I had to make that good, or I could not rest. My life is in your hands. I’ve nearly come to death for it already this week. If I must suffer death, I beg it be merciful and that Barsina be spared and put into good service.”
The Patro grunted. “Brother Heliokuristo Tria, do you have further questions of the girl?”
“Not at this time.”
“Your feelings?”
“She has certainly earned death.”
“I’m inclined to agree, considering other facts we have—including assault with a weapon on three citizens. We shall consider punishment later. Brother Leono Sesa, is her statement correct?”
“In all points I know,” Efan said.
“Your opinion as to her fate?”
“I reserve judgment.”
“Very good. Brother Heliokuristo Tria—the other prisoners.”
( … This way to Chapter Forty-two part 1 … ) ( … This way to Chapter Forty-two part 3 … )
… ( … This way to Chapter One part 1 … ) …
Not quite Tank Girl but metaphorically rampaging in controlled fashion.
It makes sense that with the facts all known to the authorities (particularly her own crimes), her best hope *would* be some sort of venue for unconventional justice.
Aside from the prevailing condescension towards her, she's being treated professionally, and it would not surprise me to learn if this unconventional body might well recognize her pursuit of justice and grant some reprieve. Of course, their interest in silence and stifling scandal probably still make her death the simplest option in their eyes.