Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Kate nodded, too weak, too tired to protest.  Ushered into the cubicle, a doctor who looked no older than eighteen examined her cuts, bruises, cleaned them up and asked if she would like to be referred to a counsellor.

Kate shook her head no.  “I just want to go home”, she said.

An hour later, June covered her with warm blankets, placed a glass of water and the bottle of pain meds the doctor had given her on the nightstand and left the room.  She called Withers from the kitchen.

“There’s no way she’ll be in tomorrow.  The doctor has given her heavy sedatives, tell whoever needs to know so no one starts calling.”

***

Withers stuck his head in the office door and informed Shirley that Gordon wanted to meet with them.  Laying her coffee aside, she stood looked over at Kate’s empty chair.

“I wonder where Kate is?  It’s not like her to be late.”

“She won’t be in today, home sick.  We’d better get moving.”

Gordon looked up at the two tired looking detectives and felt a rare stab of compassion; it passed quickly.

“Where’s Kate?”

“She won’t be in today, sir, she’s sick.”

“Sick!  The woman has never taken a sick day.  You sure?”

“Yes, took the call myself.”  Withers flushed at his lie.

“Oh, that is a surprise.  Anyway, to the business at hand.  We got him.”

“Got who sir?”

“Ward, of course”.  He opened a file and placed a packet of letters on his desk.

“Hot off the press, and I do mean hot, in fact, they sizzle.  Best love letters I’ve read in a long while.  Catherine Stone and Henry were getting in on for the past year.  And they made plans, lots of them.  There are references to when Jeffrey’s ‘out of the way’, ‘gone’, ‘given up the ghost’.  She wasn’t going to New York with him, never packed a thing, and why would she?  He wasn’t going to New York either.  He would be dead before he got on the plane.  They planned it together.”

“Does it say that in the letters, sir”, Shirley asked.

“Implied, it’s implied in the letters.  Not difficult to read between the lines.  We’ve got enough to now to go to the District Attorney with.  The bastard won’t be on the street for long.”

***

Kate woke to the worst headache she ever had in her life.  She rolled to the edge of the bed, lay on her stomach, swung her body to the side and eased her legs onto the floor.  Placing her hands on the mattress, she pushed herself up, waited until the room stopped spinning before making her way to the bathroom where she heaved over the bowl until nothing until the last of the stomach bile burned its way up and out.

She scrambled through the cabinets looking for Tylenol, Aspirin, anything that would lessen the pounding in her head.  She found two Advil in a bottle stashed at the back of the cabinet.  She swallowed them dry, made her way back to the nightstand and read the label on the prescription pills.  She hated drugs, avoided taking anything, preferred to tough it out.

Freaking drugged.  She went to the kitchen, filled a large bottle with water, looked in the spare room – empty, she never heard June leave.  She made her way back to the bedroom, took the bottle of prescription drugs, flushed them down the toilet, and fell back into bed.  Drink water, sleep, drink water and maybe by this evening they’d be out of her system.

***

It was an early start the next morning for the group assembled on stage and their displeasure showed on their faces.

“Thank you all for coming in a bit earlier this morning”, Eleanor said. “I wouldn’t have called you here if it hadn’t been necessary.”

“Generous of the cold bitch, isn’t it,” Charlotte asked.

Andrew ignored her remark.

“I want to assure you it’s not bad news I have to deliver.  The production is not going to be cancelled.  The play will go on tonight as scheduled.”

There was a visible lessening of tension in the gathered group.

“I have surprising news and it should be making its way down the centre aisle right now.”

Eyes peered into the darkness of the unlit theatre.

“By God, is that you Henry?  Have you been sprung from the dungeon”, Andrew asked.

“Yes, and dungeon is the word for those lock up cells.  It’ll take a week to get rid of the smell of the place. The night court judge sprung me bail at 12:15am. My lawyer tells me I’m a free man until I’m charged and believe me, I won’t be charged.”

An enthusiast at the back of the huddled group shouted hear, hear!

“I’d like to thank Andrew for stepping into the Director’s shoes and Eleanor for wearing many hats in my absence.”

A smattering of applause followed his remark.

“I would also like to thank each and every one of you for your support.  You kept the faith, you didn’t run away.”

A louder and more sustained applause followed this remark.

“I’m hoping I can count on that continued support.”

He looked at them with an expectant, hopeful face.  No one spoke, none applauded.

“I will tell you once, what I told the police over and over again, I didn’t murder Jeffrey or anyone else. For those of you who know me well know I’m speaking the truth. For those of you who don’t, I hope you will take me on trust.  I can’t give you any details about why they think I did these atrocious murders; my lawyer has put me on a gag order.  For my own good, he says.  So, be patient folks, some day both you and I will know the truth behind the tragic loss of these lives.”

“Shit”, Charlotte said.  “The man’s crying.”

His response was greeted by a