The murmurs from the crowd and the surprise on the faces of the Council, as Joe Thompson staggered to the centre of the square told me all I needed to know. None of them had known the identity of the Constable’s witness or questioned his account.
“Joe, what day did you see me go into the house?” I asked the unsteady man after I was asked to proceed.
He scratched his shaggy head. “Last week?”
Hope began to bloom in my chest at his answer.
The Constable glared at him. “Did you not say it was two days ago—Monday?”
Joe belched loudly, looking around wildly in confusion. “Yes, it was Monday!”
“Joe. Was it last week?” I questioned again, ignoring the Constable.
Joe nodded his head vigorously as his eyes lit in memory. “Yes! It was, Miss. You said hello to Joe.”
With hope spreading more inside me, I questioned further, “Did you see me two days ago?”
He frowned, thinking before shaking his head. “No. You always say hello. You didn’t say hello on Monday. Nobody said hello to Joe on Monday. “
“Thank you, Joe. You are right. I didn’t go into that house on Monday.”
While the Constable was red-faced and seething at having his witness crumble in front of him, Joe staggered away, ostensibly to find his next bottle of beer.
Turning back to the jury, I pleaded, “I loved that family, and I could never murder anyone in cold blood. Obviously, the witness is not credible. The last time I went into the house was last week before Ara died. Everyone here in this town saw the mayor after that. You would be doing a great injustice if you hung me for his death.”
The Council began to murmur among themselves, and I could tell that their position was changing, as was the crowd’s.
I opened my mouth to argue my case further when a woman arrived at the square, making my heart drop painfully. It was Mrs. Catherine Anderson, Mayor Anderson’s mother.
Another woman was with her, but she stayed with the crowd while Mrs. Anderson walked soberly to the centre to stand beside the Constable, facing the crowd.
I tried to spot the other woman again, but she disappeared behind the townsfolk. There was something familiar about her…but what?
My attention was brought back to my predicament when Mrs. Anderson started to speak, addressing the crowd. “The past two weeks have been horrific for me. I have lost both my granddaughter and my son. Two lives have been tragically lost. My son deserves justice. Nobody deserves it more than the man who sacrificed so much of himself for this town.”
The crowd cheered, and my stomach dropped further as I witnessed the people who had started to doubt my guilt begin to waver.
She held up a hand to stop the cheering and continued. “We all want justice, and nobody could want it more than I do. I have lost half of my family and have the unpalatable job of telling my daughter and her family when they arrive from the city for Ara’s funeral that Tom is also gone.”
The square went quiet as she spoke passionately, and with each word, I felt the noose around my neck tightening a little more. Heads were nodding sagely in agreement, with a few dirty looks thrown my way.
Trying to think of a way to appeal to the grieving woman who had been nothing but kind to me throughout my years of service to her son, I was shocked by her next words. “Yes, I want justice, but is it justice if the wrong culprit is hanged?”
What?
The confused crowd began to murmur among themselves, and the noose around my neck loosened just a tiny bit.
“In the quest for justice, the innocent should never suffer. How do you serve justice by adding more victims? This young lady had been my Ara’s nanny since she was five.”
Her voice wobbled as she spoke of Ara, and I found myself shutting my eyes and swallowing the lump forming in my throat. I hadn’t even had time to mourn the death of my sweet girl before this ordeal.
“We all know that Ara’s mother died when she was five—may her gentle soul rest in peace—and Sali was a wonderful nanny to her ever since. As busy as Tom was serving this town, and as much as I helped when I was around, it was Sali who took care of that child and treated her like her own. She was a good employee to my son, making sure he didn’t need to worry about his daughter. It would be a great shame if, after how much she has served my family, she is wrongfully hanged for this crime. She has barely had time to grieve the death of a child I know was like a daughter to her, and now she has to face possible death over the demise of my son. Is this justice?”
She turned to the Constable, who was looking disgruntled by the turn of events, and handed him a piece of paper. He reluctantly accepted the paper and scanned it with shocked eyes, glancing up at Mrs. Anderson in alarm.
“How?”
Mrs. Anderson nodded sadly as the crowd began to murmur restlessly, wanting to know what had rendered the Constable so speechless.
The Constable beckoned to Patty, the mayor’s secretary, who came to him in confusion. He showed the piece of paper to her, and with a shocked gasp, she began to wail in earnest. The Constable signalled to one of his men to take her away. The lad held her arm and gently led her away, her wails echoing throughout the square.
Now the crowd was even more confused. What was going on? It was obvious that something monumental was happening, and I wondered what that would mean for me.
The Constable showed the piece of paper to the remaining Council members and they all looked stunned and defeated after reading whatever it was on that sheet of paper.
I was burning with curiosity. The crowd’s increasingly loud murmurs indicated that they were as well. Constable Gregory returned to Mrs. Anderson, and after a few murmured words, she addressed the people again.
“I found this piece of paper in my son’s drawer in his office, and as sad as it makes me feel, I am grateful I found it before another innocent life was cut short too soon.”
My heart began to beat loudly against my chest as hope blossomed. Suddenly, the sound of the birds chirping sounded like encouragement, and the sunny weather looked like a blessing.
With her voice thick with emotion, Mrs. Anderson read:
“My Dearest Mama,
It is with great sorrow and despair that I have to take this route…”
After that first sentence, the crowd went crazy and had to be silenced by the Constable once more with another warning shot.
“This is hard for Mrs. Anderson, so be kind enough to allow her to read it all in one go,” he admonished.
When he was certain they would behave, he apologised to Mrs. Anderson and urged her to carry on.
“My Dearest Mama,
It is with great sorrow and despair that I have to take this route. Since I lost Nena, I have tried to live for my daughter and this town. I tried to be strong, but Ara’s loss was too much for me to bear.
Just know that you did your best for me, and I’m grateful. I’m also thankful to Sali for everything she did for me and my daughter Ara.
My regards to my sister Anna and her family. Let them know how much I love them.
As hard as this is for me, I wish to be reunited with my Nena and our child. I wish everyone the best, but I am sorry I can’t be here anymore.”
Your son,
Tom.
For a few seconds after the sorrowful reading, nobody moved or spoke. The town had been shocked into silence and despair.
However, nobody was as gobsmacked by the turn of events as I was. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Never in a million lifetimes could I have predicted something like this happening. Was this what people spoke of when they talked about miracles?
How could this be possible? The same Tom Anderson I knew, suicide?
Wails and cries of grief filled the square as the townspeople got over their shock.
“What do we do with her?” The Constable asked the Council, gesturing at me.
What do we do with her?
I had always known that the Constable was not very smart, because he was chosen for his ability to intimidate and not his intellectual prowess or keen deduction skills, so it didn’t surprise me that he would ask such a ridiculous question.
“Release her.”
I didn’t see who said it, but I was grateful to them nonetheless.
As the Constable called for one of his men to uncuff me, it was obvious that he was unhappy he had lost his scapegoat for the death of the mayor, but he had no choice.
I counted the seconds impatiently as I was uncuffed, desperate to escape the noise and wails and to be as far away as possible from the place where I almost became acquainted with death.
The Constable’s assistant gently helped me to my feet, steadying me when I almost lost my balance on shaky feet. He apologised for my ordeal, and I thought it was very kind of him.
Slipping quietly away, I was grateful that the Constable was distracted by answering questions about funeral arrangements for Mayor Anderson. Exhausted and numb, I was anxious to get out of there to process what had just happened.
I looked around for Mrs. Anderson to thank her, but I was as relieved as I was disappointed to find that she had already left.
Maybe I could go and see her later.
But would that be wise?
There was something very weird going on, but I didn’t want to stay here to find out.
