A Mind Within Read online

  “For a crime he didn’t commit, but confessed to,” Dan said.

  “Right. The other person in the saga is Giselle, the housekeeper,” Dulcie continued.

  “Ah, yes. The lovely Giselle! I remember her from the filming,” Dan said.

  “Of course you do,” Dulcie said, shaking her head with resignation. Dan was well known for appreciating a pretty face. “Just now with Edith Bernstein, I was trying to get all of the family connections straight, especially since half of them are dead now.”

  “Okay, lay it on me,” Dan offered.

  Dulcie took a deep breath. “First, there’s Oscar. He was married to a woman named Lily. She already had a daughter, Gisa…”

  “What? Wait a second. She already had a daughter?”

  “Yes,” Dulcie answered.

  “So is that Xander’s mother?”

  “Yes,” Dulcie replied again. “Oscar is, was, her step-father.

  “There’s the first strange thing. But keep going,” Dan interjected.

  “Gisa eventually met Lawrence and they were married. Then Xander was born,” Dulcie said.

  “So when did Giselle come into the picture?” asked Dan

  “I’m not sure but it was at least when Xander was a tiny baby. She’s been with him pretty much from the beginning. So, Xander’s condition becomes apparent pretty early on. The family is living with Oscar who pays all the bills. He also makes their lives miserable. Gisa begins spiraling into a rapid decline and eventually dies from a combination of alcohol and sleeping pills.”

  “And Giselle was already around by then?” Dan asked.

  “Yes,” Dulcie said.

  “What kind of a name is Gisa?” Dan mused. “Sounds Middle Eastern or something.”

  “You’re thinking of Gaza,” Dulcie replied. “I think it’s German or maybe Austrian?”

  “You’re the intellectual of the family,” Dan teased.

  “All right, fine. Now I have to look it up.” Dulcie sat forward and opened her laptop. “Yes, I’m right, of course. Here it is. Gisa, a German name for a girl that translates to…” Dulcie looked up at Dan. “Now that’s interesting!” she exclaimed.

  “What? What is it?” he demanded.

  “It translates to Giselle.”

  That evening the doorbell rang at Dulcie’s townhouse. The building was an old, brick structure set among an entire street of townhouses in one of the city’s older districts. Not only had Dulcie fallen in love with it the first time she saw it, but it was within walking distance of the museum which made it all the more perfect. She hurried to the door and swung it open without even peeking through the window to see who it was.

  Nick stood on the steps with a large paper bag. Dulcie quickly grabbed it, spun around, and put it on the kitchen counter. She put both hands on the top and ripped the bag open. Nick had seen her do this before, but it always startled him a bit. She had once told him it was the easiest way to get at the containers. They were always packed tightly into the bag. Nick suspected that she just liked ripping the bag open.

  “I want you to know that you put my high school French to the test,” Dulcie remarked. “I learned Italian in college, and I kept throwing in things like grazie instead of merci.”

  “I’m very sorry to have caused difficulty,” Nick teased.

  Dulcie ignored him. She handed him a tray and said, “Take everything to the table please. I’ll get wine.” Nick did so obediently.

  Dulcie stepped out of the kitchen a moment later with a bottle of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. “I just got some of that, too!” Nick commented.

  “It’s my current favorite,” Dulcie replied. “I’ve been in an Italian mode lately. Thus my difficulty with the French this afternoon,” she added.

  “I am very appreciative, however,” Nick said. He opened several boxes, handed one to Dulcie, and took one for himself. Dulcie looked inside hers and sighed. Chicken fried rice.

  “You’re going to be very appreciative,” she said after several bites. “I tracked down Lily Bernstein through the records office in Quebec. It seems that prior to marrying Oscar, she was Lily Harmon. And prior to that, she was Lily Guerrette.” Nick started to speak, but Dulcie held up her hand to stop him. “Wait! There’s more! Lily Harmon had twins. One was named Gisa Harmon. The other was adopted by her grandmother…”

  “And let me guess. Her name was Giselle Guerrette!” Nick exclaimed.

  Dulcie simply nodded, smiled, and dug deeper into her fried rice.

  “Well! That puts a spin on things! So Giselle is really Xander’s aunt, and Lawrence’s sister-in-law! Wow!” Nick put down his chopsticks and tapped his fingers on the table. “Wow!” he repeated. “So the question now is, who knew? Did anyone know? She must have known, certainly. It couldn’t be that big of a coincidence that she just happens to end up in the same household as her sister.”

  “You wouldn’t think so,” Dulcie said. She put down the now empty container of fried rice and opened a bag of egg rolls.

  Nick was now ignoring the food. “I can only imagine that as Lily’s daughter, Gisa’s sister, and Xander’s aunt, she must have been harboring a lot of hatred for Oscar.”

  Dulcie nodded, her mouth full. “Ummmhmmm,” was all she managed to get out in response.

  Nick was oblivious. “It would explain the bond she had with Xander, too. She took more interest in him than seemed normal.” He walked across to the window. It was dark. Sunsets were very early now that they were well into autumn. “This just got complicated,” he murmured.

  Dulcie poured more wine. “It did? I thought it just got easier!” she countered.

  Nick came back to the table. “You’re right, but so am I. We now have a very strong motive for one person in particular to have killed Oscar. The question is, does she have a motive to kill anyone else? What about Lawrence? Is he the next victim? After all, he was there when both Giselle’s mother and sister died. He did nothing.”

  “What could he do?” asked Dulcie.

  “Probably not much, but Giselle may not see it that way. Dulcie, do you know if Giselle has seen that painting? The one of Lawrence leaving the room and Oscar laughing?”

  Dulcie thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Edith Bernstein brought it to me. She found it in a stack of paintings in Xander’s studio. She took it to her room afterward which is where I saw it. Then she gave it to me so that I could bring it to my office.”

  “Why did she do that?” Nick wondered.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe she thought I could see something in it that she couldn’t? Or maybe even that I would show it to the police?”

  Nick sipped his wine for a moment. “I think I know what we have to do. Can I meet you at your office in the morning? Do you have any free time?” Nick asked.

  “Let me check my schedule,” Dulcie went to her desk and flipped open her laptop. “I have an hour free at ten o’clock. Would that work?”

  “Hopefully. I’ll let you know in the morning.” He started to pick up his dinner things, but Dulcie waved him off. “No, no! You brought all of this over! I’ll take care of clean-up. Thank you, by the way. For dinner.”

  “Thank you, for the insight. And the wine. And the good company.” He put on his jacket but hesitated as he walked to the door. “Dulcie, I mean that. You’re really good company,” he confessed.

  She smiled. “You are too, Nick.” He opened the door as she turned on the outside light. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You bet. ‘Night.” His arm jerked in a half-wave. He knew it looked awkward, but it was an attempt to hide its initial motion. He had so wanted to feel how soft her hair was.

  I saw the angel in the marble

  and carved until I set him free.

  ― Michelangelo

  CHAPTER 10

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Rachel bounced in to Dulcie’s office. “Visitors!” she announced.

  “Thank you, Rachel. And who might they be?”

  Rachel stepped back. �
��These guys,” she said, walking by Nick and Lawrence Bellamy who had just entered the office.

  “Thank you Rachel. As always you are a wealth of knowledge and decorum!” Dulcie called out after her.

  “I do what I can!” she called back from the hallway.

  “She really is a very good assistant,” Dulcie laughed. “In spite of the sass.”

  Nick chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought a guest.”

  “Not at all,” Dulcie replied. She came around her desk and shook hands with Lawrence. He towered over her. Her fingers looked like a child’s compared to his, but his handshake was gentle. “What can I do for you two?”

  “I’m wondering if we can see the painting that Xander made,” Nick asked. “The one in Oscar Bernstein’s study.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Dulcie replied turning to a table in the corner. Several canvases were propped against the wall on it. She rearranged them, bringing the requested work to the front.

  Lawrence stepped forward. “I do remember,” he said quietly. “That was the last argument I had with Oscar. It was the day he died. I didn’t realize that Xander saw us in there.” Lawrence thought of the sketchbook Xander had made, the fear he must have understood. “I wish I could have done more for my son. I wish I had just taken him away…,” his voice quavered.

  Dulcie began to speak, to reassure him, but Nick shook his head. “Lawrence, I want you to look at this carefully. Do you see this shadow over here.”

  Lawrence leaned over and studied the painting. “Yes,” he replied simply.

  “It looks like the shadow of a person,” Nick said.

  “It is,” Lawrence replied.

  “Can you tell us who was in the room with Oscar when you left?” Nick asked.

  Lawrence’s voice was soft. Barely audible. “Giselle,” he whispered.

  “Means, motive, and opportunity,” Nick said after Lawrence had left. Giselle had the means. It wouldn’t have taken much, especially in a fit of rage, for her to push Oscar out the window. He wasn’t a big man, and he was old.”

  “True. She had the motive, certainly. Oscar was a major factor in her sister’s death, and he sounds like he was pretty horrible when it came to Xander,” Dulcie added.

  “So we’re down to opportunity. She had that as well.”

  “She did?” Dulcie exclaimed. “But I thought that she and Xander…”

  “That’s her story. She could have pushed him out the window earlier. She knew Lawrence had gone out and she knew approximately when he would be back. She could have pushed Oscar, taken Xander for a quick walk, and come back to find Oscar dead.”

  Dulcie pondered this new scenario. “Yes, she could have done that. Do you have that sketchbook with you, by any chance?”

  “Actually I do. I brought in case we wanted to look at it along with the painting.” He fished through a canvas bag on the floor beside him. Dulcie realized that Nick never carried anything. Was that part of the police thing? Were both hands supposed to be free at all times?

  Nick interrupted her thoughts and handed her the book. Dulcie opened it from the back to look at the image of Lawrence and Oscar’s body. She very carefully examined one object and the next, scrutinizing the detail. It all seemed to fit, until… there! Yes, that was it. She turned the page to look at the back of the paper. Yes, that confirmed it.

  “What are you doing?” Nick asked.

  “I’m doing what I should have done before. I’m looking at the technique and not the subject. And what I see is exactly what I know that that I should have expected to see.”

  “I’m confused,” Nick confessed.

  “Look at the way Xander draws. He’s outlined everything, almost like a cartoon. It doesn’t look cartoonish because he show’s detail so well, but the outline is there on everything in the picture. But look at the shadow in the window. No outline.”

  Nick leaned over the drawing. His nose was almost on the paper. “You’re right!”

  “And look at this.” Dulcie turned the page over. “You can see consistent indentations on the back of the paper. He doesn’t press very hard. But again, look at the shadow. You can feel it bump out on the back.” She ran her fingers across it. Involuntarily, Nick did the same.

  “So this means that the shadow might have been added later,” Nick reasoned.

  “Yes, and it means that most likely, Xander didn’t draw the shadow,” Dulcie said. “To my knowledge, only two people have seen this book other than you and I. Lawrence, and…”

  “Giselle,” Nick finished the sentence.

  Dulcie felt sick. The one person that had cared for Xander. The one person who truly understood him. They couldn’t just rip her away like that. What would happen to him? It would be even worse than his father being taken away. Yet she had betrayed Dulcie’s trust. She had betrayed everyone’s trust. Dulcie still couldn’t believe it, but Giselle must have done it. She must have pushed Oscar out the window in a fit of rage or even despair.

  Did she feel justified killing him? When Lawrence went to prison for her crime, what did she feel then? How could she have let that happen? But Dulcie understood. Giselle was Xander’s aunt, just as Edith was Xander’s aunt. The aunties close ranks, more so than any other blood relation, when the children have to be protected. It happened not only with humans, but other species as well. Dulcie had read that it was undoubtedly biological in some way. She wondered if Edith knew or suspected anything about Giselle.

  Nick was still talking. “I need to find Johnson. We have to go through the file, get everyone’s story again.” His mind was already spinning.

  “Unless I get Giselle to confess,” Dulcie said.

  “What? How is that even possible? She didn’t say anything before. Why would she now?”

  “Because I know. Because I have all of the pieces that, together, form the proof. Because I can convince her that if she does confess, it will be easier for her. The sentence could be more lenient.”

  “How… how do you propose to do this?” Nick stammered.

  “I’ll go to their house. I’ll bring the painting and the sketch. I’ll record the conversation.”

  “Oh no! No undercover work for you, Dulcie!”

  “All right. Fine. You can be in the next room or the hallway or wherever.” Dulcie was thoughtful for a moment. “You know, we should get Edith’s help, too. She’s brusque, but I know she’d see this whole situation the right way.”

  Nick was silent. Then he reached into his pocket for his phone. “I have to call Johnson,” he said. “You call dear Aunt Edith.”

  An hour later, Dulcie approached the house of Xander Bellamy carrying his painting and sketchbook. She rang the bell. Giselle came to the door.

  “Dul-cee, quelle surprise!” she said by way of greeting.

  “Yes, I spoke to Edith,” Dulcie wasn’t sure if Giselle knew that Dulcie and Edith had spoken earlier. “She didn’t tell you I’d be here, evidently.”

  “Non, but come in. I see you have Xander’s artworks. Are you returning them?”

  “Yes,” Dulcie lied. “Could I bring them upstairs?” Dulcie had covered the large canvas with cloth so that Giselle could not see what it was. She hoped that Giselle would think it was the painting that Xander had made of Dulcie.

  “Of course,” Giselle said. “Follow me.” They went to Xander’s studio.

  Downstairs, Dulcie heard the door open softly, then close. She put down Xander’s things and said, “Giselle, I know this sounds odd, but could I see Oscar’s studio one more time? I saw something in the painting Xander did that I wanted to look at.”

  Giselle looked puzzled, but waved Dulcie through toward the room, then followed her in.

  Dulcie stopped and looked around for several moments. “Giselle, I know it was horrible living with Oscar,” she began.

  “Oui. He was a terrible man. One had to cope.”

  Dulcie hoped that Nick was in the hallway, listening. She thought she had given him enough time to com
e upstairs. “It must have been terrible, knowing Oscar had contributed to those deaths.”

  “You mean Xander’s mère?”

  “Yes, I mean Xander’s mother Your sister. I also mean Xander’s grandmother, Lily, who was your mother.”

  Giselle turned white. She swayed. Dulcie thought she was going to fall over. Giselle collapsed into a chair. “You know my secret,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Dulcie said quietly. “That’s why you cared about Xander, truly loved him, so much. That’s why you must have snapped when you were in this room with Oscar on the last day of his life.”

  Giselle’s eyes were wide. “How did you know…?”

  “Because Gisa and Giselle are the same name in different languages. The records office in Quebec confirmed the rest. More importantly, however, is that Xander made a painting. He had walked by the room the day that Oscar was killed. He saw his father, and his grandfather, but not the third person in the room. He simply saw a shadow of the third person. Today, Lawrence saw that painting. He said that the shadow was you.”

  Giselle had begun to cry. Tears streamed down her face. “Oui! I was in the room! He was terrible that day! I was so angry and hurt! But you think…” she sobbed, “You think I killed him? Non! I did not! I could not! I hated him with all of the venom in my heart, but I could not have done such a thing as push him out the window! I couldn’t!”

  Dulcie had not anticipated this reaction. Worse, she was now beginning to believe Giselle. She turned and looked out the window, her mind reeling. Bright sunshine streamed through the trees and danced on the paved driveway below. A squirrel hopped from a branch just outside the window down to a bush, then to the ground where it ran along through what was left of the summer grass.

  It was then that Dulcie knew. Without question, she knew. She turned back to Giselle slowly. “I believe you,” she said. “You could not have done it. But I know who did.”

  A large form emerged from the shadows at the back of the room. Dulcie gasped as Lawrence Bellamy moved toward her. Nick sensed someone else moving in the room and stepped into the doorway. Dulcie did not look at him, but Nick knew she wanted him to stop. He froze. Neither Lawrence nor Giselle knew Nick was there.