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The funny thing is, in the weeks between Gabrielle’s death and his own, I caught Robert looking at me; just little, sideways glances when he thought I was preoccupied. And these little glances showed me that he had some doubts. And then those doubts started to crystallize into suspicions. And as the days went on, his gaze grew harder, and I knew that he was certain. In the end, both the father and daughter died knowing the truth about me.
You know, when Robert and I got married, he promised me that this would be our last marriage.
He was half-right.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Did Daphne really think Ruth would buy this bullshit? After hours and hours of interviews spent together, did she really think so little of Ruth? Daphne had definitely killed Gabrielle. It wasn’t just that Daphne had hated her. It was the way she told the story, slowly unwinding her case against her stepdaughter before dropping the thread abruptly at the end, a long line of truths finished off with a lie. An ice cream sundae garnished with a cigarette. Fucking Daphne St Clair. She had confessed to a set of murders, sure, but how many others had she detoured around when leading Ruth through her life?
“You said it was convenient that Gabrielle died, but a lot of people would say it’s a little too convenient to be accidental,” Ruth began.
“Life’s funny huh?” Daphne responded smoothly. Ruth glanced away, repulsed by Daphne’s satisfied smile.
“Come on. Gabrielle would have inherited her father’s money if he died. She was making your daughters’ lives miserable. Youkilledher,” Ruth urged.
“A boy was hit by lightning when I was living in Leosville. Maybe you think I’m responsible for that too?” Daphne said, raising her eyebrows so high that her wrinkles advanced into her thinning hair line. “I admit that I poisoned my husbands, and that I pushed a couple of abusive men to their deaths. But I never killed a kid.” She seemed so adamant that doubt began to creep into Ruth’s brain but she shook it off.
“You’re already spending the rest of your life in prison, you might as well be honest now,” Ruth said, surprised at how resentful she sounded.
Something had changed between them. The air crackled with electricity as a new tension emerged. It was clear that Daphne was surprised that Ruth wasn’t entirely on her side. Maybe she felt that she was giving Ruth the story of a lifetime and that Ruth should sit down and shut up. But Ruth was done being quiet.
“I’ve always been honest. Do remember, the only reason anyone knows about these crimes at all, is because I confessed to them. It takes a lot of courage to do that,” Daphne said, her voice stiff and haughty.
“Do you really think listeners will be applauding you for your courage?” Ruth asked skeptically.
“Sure, why not? At least I took some action. Most women just sit around and take whatever’s given to ’em. Look at you! You grew up in the best time in America to be a woman and what have you done? What’s so special aboutyou? You’re too afraid to leave goddamned Florida! If you were me, you’d never have gotten out of Lucan.” Daphne’s voice was dripping with disdain. She looked so proud of herself, a frail old woman with bile on her lips, that all Ruth felt was disgust.
“So, what? People are supposed to find your story inspirational? You got ahead by lying and killing! You cheated your way into everything!”
“I’m sorry, I missed the part of life where people are fair. They rig the system against you and then they expect you to play by the rules? That’s just stupid,” Daphne said, her voice prickly with sarcasm.
Ruth could certainly relate to feeling cheated out of what was rightfully hers, but Daphne had never stopped at what belonged to her, or even what she deserved; Daphne always wanted more.
“I suppose I’ll never understand it,” Ruth said.
“What?” Daphne snapped.
“How you could do those things, how you could hurt those people.”
“And yet you don’t wonder how those men could hurtme. Everyone seems to just rush through that part of the story, like it explains everything but means nothing,” Daphne replied, her shrewd eyes glittering like a crow’s in the lamplight. “At least I gave my husbands some happy memories. The men who hurt me never gave me that.”
“Yes, but you didn’t just kill violent men, you killed innocent people. You fixate on the people who hurt you but you’re also a victimizer,” Ruth said coolly, staring directly at Daphne.
“What’s your point? That I’m a bad person? I’m a serial killer! What did you expect?” Daphne scoffed.
I expected to understand,Ruth thought.I really believed that if I stared at this long enough it would make sense in my head. But the violence you did, and the violence that was done to you, none of it makes sense. My life was completely derailed by a passing impulse.
“Why did you confess then? You say you’re a bad person, but doesn’t that show some sort of remorse?” Ruth asked. It was one of the many unanswered questions about Daphne but it seemed like one of the most essential.
“No, that’s not it,” Daphne said. “I liked the idea of showing everyone what I’d gotten away with.”
Ruth narrowed her eyes. She’d heard that answer already. Daphne had said it multiple times, the words tumbling out of her mouth as smooth and polished as river pebbles. Whatever her reason for confessing, it wasn’t that.
“You just wanted people to know how smart you are?” Ruth asked, incredulous.
“Sure,” Daphne said. “People only pay attention to women when they want to fuck them or murder them. And no one pays attention to old women at all. I was proud of getting away with it, but it’s no fun if no one knows that you’ve won.”
“People will hate you for that,” Ruth said. “If there really is no larger reason, no way for them to understand.”