I said it as naturally as I could, as though I’d just been finishing a thought.
“It was so strange,” Anwen said, the words slipping out quietly. She was exhausted. She’d just allowed herself to relax, a bit. “Being the only one who saw . . .”
“. . . that she was pregnant.”
Slowly, Anwen realized what she’d done. “How did you know that?” she hissed.
I put up my hands. “You know who I am,” I said, and it was true. “I put it together when Rupert was talking about your twin sister. It made sense, having seen Tamsin’s pregnancy up close, that you might recognize someone else’s.”
Anwen buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God,” she said, muffled. “You can’t tell anyone.”
The irony of where we were—an interrogation room covered in cameras—had escaped her. “I won’t,” I said.
“I wake up early,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I always have, that’s why I’m so knackered right now—I’ve been up since five. Sometimes I go down to that coffee shop, Blackmarket, to study. It’s how I fit all my work in. Anyway, last summer, I’d be getting ready in the bathroom. And Matilda . . . she stayed over with Theo most nights. Three mornings in a row, at like, five thirty in the morning, she burst in there to throw up.”
I nodded, listening. I hoped that Sadiq was taking copious notes.
“We were three weeks into the program, and all that crap with Midsummer had already happened, them canceling the show because of Matilda’s feelings. Titania’s an amazing role. Amazing costumes—she’s a fairy queen.” Anwen shook her head. “Larkin pretended she couldn’t get the rights to the show. Please. It’s not like we’re idiots—it’s Shakespeare! So they stuff everyone into a production of Earnest, and Theo . . . he knocks her up.”
“It must have happened almost immediately,” I said.
“I think it did,” she said. “They’d hooked up the first or second night, but it wasn’t until later that they started dating.”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe she was using him,” I said. “Maybe she knew she was pregnant immediately. Some girls do. And then she decided to trap him.”
I hated everything I was saying. It was the worst part of this job: telling criminals what they wanted to hear.
“Yes,” Anwen said, slamming her hand on the table. “Exactly! Everyone was so up her ass that they couldn’t see it. But I knew that if he got any more attached to her, that he’d be roped in for life. And Theo’s a genius. You saw him audition, right? Matilda was overrated, but Theo is just as good as everyone says.”
“Matilda would have ruined his life,” I said. “You had to intervene.”
“It’s not like it was hard.” Some door inside her had been unlocked. From exhaustion, or from my sympathetic ear, or from both. “Rupert was working in the sound booth. He knew the theater techs well, had them teach him a few things. And you know Rupert. He’ll do anything I ask.” Anwen waved a hand. “He showed me how the lighting rig worked. Where they kept the props. Where the back entrance to the theater was, and where Larkin hid the spare key.”
“You didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Well.” Anwen laughed. “I didn’t do in Dr. Larkin, this year. That one was bizarre. And really sad. No, I didn’t hurt anyone except that cow, Harriet. She was so disgusting, couldn’t shut up about her family’s money. Nothing like Rupert, you know, who’s so modest. I thought—two birds, one stone. I didn’t do anything to her that doctors couldn’t fix.”
“People like that should know better.” After all this was over, I was going to need a shower.
“But they didn’t cancel the show.” She stifled a giant yawn. “I couldn’t understand it. Dr. Larkin just refused. I liked her a lot—we all liked her—but it was just ridiculous. And Theo and Matilda were inseparable. I was running out of time.”
“So,” I said, laying down my final card. “You called Matilda’s father.”
“George,” she said. “Dear old George. He’s a homophobic piece of shit, you know, but everyone has their uses. Matilda was always admiring herself in clothes from his costuming business. ‘This was used in the Old Vic production of The Crucible. Isn’t it witchy and amazing? I made him give it to me.’ She was always acting like she had something on him.”
“Did she?”
“I’m sure she did. Who cared? She was born on third base and acted like she’d earned a home run.” Anwen snorted. “Theo said that once. Not about her, of course, but isn’t it amazing?”
“Amazing,” I echoed. “So you called him?”
“I did,” she said, and yawned again, fit to split her face open. “I made him a deal. In exchange for information on his daughter, I wanted a payout. Not money. You can trace money. No, I wanted—”
“Clothes.”
“Exactly. I already had the online shop. And he wouldn’t give me anything from his shop directly, so he took things from Larissa’s closet. Things he’d set aside to give to her. Not like she’d notice they were missing, she was all drugged up. My plan was, I wouldn’t sell them all at once, of course. I’d do it bits at a time. And in exchange, he’d drag Matilda home by her hair.”
“But Anwen,” I said, far more gently than I felt, as the girl settled herself down in her chair. “She didn’t go home. She just disappeared.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes tipping shut. “Isn’t that strange?”
I waited a long moment to see if she would slip into sleep. Her actions had been callow and desperate, and I wish I could say that no part of me understood them.
Except I had once been the girl who’d framed August Moriarty for a felony, and all because he didn’t love me back. I was still that girl. Just tonight, I’d insisted that I was.
I stood, brushing myself off, and walked to the two-way mirror. “Is that enough?” I asked my reflection. “Is that enough, now?”
Twenty-Three
SADIQ USHERED ME OUT OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM. She looked exhausted, but then, we all were. Watson was still in with Theo and Rupert, she told me, but he hadn’t gotten much out of them.
“Did you dust Rupert’s hands for pollen?” I asked. “He was touching the decoy orchid I brought over, but there should be at least one other kind under his fingernails.”
Sadiq dropped her glasses to the end of her nose. “Any particular reason?”
“You know . . .” I smiled. “Actually, don’t. Don’t dust him. Just have someone tail him the next few days. The Davies family owns a plot of land outside of town. They’re farmers. I’ll bet you anything that there’s a greenhouse there, and that you’ll find—”
“Orchids inside,” Sadiq said. “Noted.” She smiled at me. “Nice work, Charlotte. You live up to your reputation.”
That usually wasn’t a compliment. I found myself smiling back. “Thanks.”
“You know,” she said, leaning back against the wall, “I didn’t think that Rupert boy was up to any of this.”