He had never known it was possible to hate a piece of furniture as dearly as he hated this couch now. Of course, he'd never considered that his entire world could shrink down to a bit of upholstery and an iron shackle. He wasn't going to let it go on this way. He was going to get off this padded prison today, or his name wasn't Arthur Carmicheal. At least, he hoped that was still his name. He hadn't been allowed to read any of the documents Violet forced him to sign. Slowly he shifted his weight. Each tiny increment cost him precious amounts of his scarce energy, but it brought him closer to his goal. Finally he reached a tipping point. Gravity took hold, and did the rest. Arthur slid off the couch and tumbled helplessly. He couldn't stop the great thud as he hit the floor, but the limpness of his body spared him pain.
A softer thump echoed through the floorboards under his ear, followed swiftly by others. Footsteps were hurrying toward him. He thought he'd be alone all day. The new servant stayed clear of him, and Violet wouldn't be home from work already. Surely it was too early for her to be back, unless his stupor made him lose track of time. The last thing he wanted was to stick around to find out who it might be; it was more important to get out of here, and fast. He needed only to lift the couch high enough to slip the shackles from its leg, and then he could crawl away. His hands scratched at the wood in a feeble attempt to remember their previous strength.
"Arthur, you poor boy. Did you fall down?"
Violet stood over him. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't doubt that she was gloating.
"Here, let me help you up," Violet knelt down beside him and hooked an arm under his chest.
Arthur flinched at her touch.
"Don't be frightened," Violet made a mockery out of a soothing tone. "I have no particular reason to hurt you."
She dragged him back onto the couch, and he hadn't the power to fight her.
"It might do you some good to know what it's like to have to depend on someone else," She told him. "You just lie quietly for a time, and everything will be all right."
She liked to pretend she wasn't doing him any harm. Maybe she even believed herself, but denial wouldn't make it true. He might not be in pain, but lying here was hurting him badly.
XXXXXXXXXX
Violet talked to him in the evenings when she came home from work. He watched enviously as she moved freely about the room, telling him all about the life she now led, only thanks to him. She stopped next to her special drawer, where she stored the curare. That meant she was ready to drug him again, and that in turn meant she was done with him for the day. Was she really leaving him already? It disgusted him how alarmed that made him feel.
"Wait," Arthur mumbled, unable to find the strength to raise his voice any higher. "I did what you wanted, I signed everything you asked. You promised you'd let me go."
"I did promise that, didn't I?" Violet smiled. "But you and I both know documents signed under duress aren't really legal. Sometimes it takes a little lie to get the right results."
"No one has to know, not if I tell them I signed willingly," He offered.
She came back to stand beside him. "What shall you do, if I should change my mind and let you free?"
He'd hire all the finest prostitutes in the city and have an orgy.
"I won't say a word. You'll be lady of the house, and I'll be your devouted husband." Arthur promised. One lie deserved another.
"Do you really think I'd believe that?" Violet asked.
Her little handbag still dangled from her wrist. He grabbed at it in a sudden rush of motion, and she pulled away in surprise, letting the strap of her bag slide over her hand and into his. He fumbled to undo the clasp with half-numb fingers. If he could get free of this chain, he could find a way to get free of this room, and to get free of her. At last he dragged out the bags contents. A handkerchief.
Violet laughed softly. "Did you really think I would keep the key on my person, where you could reach it?"
He let the bag fall from his grasp.
"Now do try to keep still for your injection. We wouldn't want to leave a bruise," She went to the open drawer in the side table, and took out a needle.
As she left, Arthur tried to reach out and call her back. He could only watch helpless as she abandoned him to the loneliness of an empty room once again.
"Please, just let me have my life back," His words were no more than a faint moan.
XXXXXXXXXX
Violet regarded the bank's elaborate facade. Not too long ago she wouldn't have been permitted to set foot in the building. Now she was arranging appointments at her convenience. The tellers greeted her smartly as she passed, and the bank manager scurried to usher her into his office. They were all so eager to please now that she had sole control over the Carmicheal fortune.
The bank manager pulled out a chair for her before taking his own seat behind the desk. "As I understand, the reason for your appointment was that you wish us to handle the purchase of a house?"
"That's correct," Violet told him. "There a place in Ottawa that's caught my attention. I think it will make a lovely little get away."
"I would be delighted to handle the particulars for you," He opened a folder he had lain out on his desk and started arranging paper work for her perusal.
"I would also like to open a separate account at the nearest branch there, if you would transfer some money over," Violet added.
He raised his eyebrows as she detailed the sum. "You are certain to the amount, Ma'am?"
"Arthur and I are buying a vacation home in the area. Naturally we'll want to live in style while we're there," She said without a moments hesitation.
When she walked out, she did so with the satisfaction of knowing she was completely in control of her situation, to stay or leave whenever she pleased. She had everything she wanted right here, and she enjoyed her work, along with the respectability it brought. She was happy in Toronto, for now, but it never hurt to have an escape route.
XXXXXXXXXX
He had nothing but time to think. There had to be ways out of this situation. She couldn't keep him like this forever. She had to slip up, or get bored, or change her mind. Eventually she'd get over the little tiff that led to all this, and life would go back to normal. He knew that was only a wish. Violet was willful and determined. Plus, she had to know he wasn't about to forgive her. She could never afford to let him go; it would spell the end of her.
What truly tormented him was how easily she was getting away with keeping him imprisoned. Not a soul came looking for him. No one came calling, not to ask to speak to him, nor even to enquire as to his where-abouts. Hadn't he plenty of friends? Hadn't he hosted parties upwards of a hundred people, and thrown money about lavishly for the amusement of all who knew him? At first he fumed, until his anger turned to misery as he came to terms with the realization that no one noticed his absence, or that maybe no one cared.
If he was going to get out of here, he would have to do it himself. The trouble was waiting through the long periods when he couldn't move at all. He had only a tiny window when there was any chance of success. Just before it was time for his next dose, he'd start to get a little mobility. He could turn his head, or lift his arm. In a way, that was worse. This weak specter of movement gave him hope he'd finally pull free.
"This time, I'll do it," he thought to himself every time he managed to move a part of his own body. "This time I'll escape."
Every time she came back with her wretched drug, and started the cycle over. His body would fall limp again, and so too would his hopes.
XXXXXXXXXX
"How are you feeling? You must be hungry by now," Violet cheerfully spread a napkin over his chest.
The power she had over him made her so happy, even when it meant tending to his every need. She'd even taken to feeding him rather than allowing him enough independence to use his own hands. His loss was no burden to her. If he needed anything while she was out, he was left to wait. Likely she expected that to make him more agreeable when she chose to grace him with her presence.
Violet lifted a spoon to his mouth. Arthur refused to take a bite.
"Is it not to your liking? I could have Marcel fix something else," Violet suggested. "You haven't eaten all day. How long do you plan to keep this up?" She demanded when he ignored her.
If he couldn't talk her into letting him go, he would have to force her. Maybe a little resistance would work where compliance had failed.
Violet watched his face carefully. "There's no use in starving yourself on purpose. I don't intend to let you die. I have no desire to play the grieving widow."
She pressed the spoon to his lips again. "If you don't eat, I'll bring the kind of foods we give to invalids in hospital, which happen to be much easier to force down people's throats. You won't enjoy that nearly as much."
Arthur kept on stubbornly. He hardly enjoyed eating in this manner anyway. Violet put the spoon down.
"You know, the thing about curare is that if it's given in too high a dose, it can paralyze the lungs," She informed him conversationally. "If you're so certain you don't want to live, I can make it easy for you."
Arthur stared at her in terror. He wasn't trying to kill himself, he was trying to make himself weak enough to need the care of a real doctor, someone who could rescue him.
"Think of it this way," Violet said. "Not only am I your wife, I am also the city coroner. If I decide to kill you, and then declare you died in an accident, who is to stop me? Don't force my hand."
Arthur decided that maybe it was worth letting her spoon feed him after all.
XXXXXXXXXX
Violet tidied up her morgue for the evening, and prepared to go. There was just one more thing she needed to clear away.
"It's been a pleasant visit, but I do need to be getting home," she told Detective Watts.
"That's a curious change. You thought you always worked late," Watts pulled himself up from where he lounged against the railing.
"True, but that was before I became a married woman," Violet said.
"Ah, I see. You and your husband are getting along better, I take it?" He regarded her curiously.
"You could say that," Violet smiled mysteriously.
"I don't suppose you could spare me some advice?" Watts asked.
"Actually, it was all thanks to you," Violet replied. "A little self sufficiency has done me wonders, just like you recommended."
"Really? In what way? I may have failed to follow my own guidance," he confessed.
"Let's say, I've found the means to keep my husband from ever troubling me again," Violet said.
She left Detective Watts to puzzle that out for himself. She needed to hurry; it was getting late for Arthur's next dose.
XXXXXXXXXX
Arthur watched as Violet took out the bottle of curare. He was starting to give up on ever getting back full use of his body. There was a sharp knock, and a man's voice at the doorway.
"Begging your pardon, I am looking for Mrs. Hart."
"I'm afraid you can't..." Marcel started. "Sir, really!"
Marcel was interrupted by a brief scuffle. It sounded like the caller actually pushed his way into the house.
"You wait right here for me, won't you?" Violet put the bottle and needle down and left to join Marcel.
"Detective," she greeted someone. "What brings you by?"
"I, uh, I realized something about our earlier conversation," the man replied.
"Help," Arthur tried to call out, but he couldn't lift his head, and he was forced to speak into his chest.
There was someone only steps away. Here he was faced with the one chance he'd yet had to be saved, and he couldn't make his voice carry. He needed to make a sound, any sound at all. He knew by now which muscles he could and couldn't use, and how to make gravity work to his advantage. This time when he hit the floor, the thump was deliberate.
"Marcel, go and see if Mr. Carmicheal needs anything," Violet said.
"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" The other man asked.
"I'm afraid the master of the house... over inebriates rather frequently." Marcel's voice took on a conspiring tone, as if he were admitting to an embarassing secret and not telling a lie.
"Ah, I see, a drinker. All the more reason for concern, in my opinion," The strange voice moved closer.
Arthur stared up at a man sporting a green suit and curly hair.
"I take it you must be Mr. Carmicheal. I am Detective Watts. Not to worry, I shall endeavour to help you."
Detective Watts crouched down beside him. "Let's start by getting you back onto this couch."
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Violet watching calmly as the Detective lifted him back up. Far from being rescued, he was being returned to his prison. A single, loud sob burst from his mouth.
"If you don't mind, you are distressing my husband," Violet sat beside him and stroked his forehead. Someone else might mistake it for loving, but Arthur knew it to be a possessive gesture.
No one mentioned the shackle fastened so obviously around his wrist. How much power had his wife managed to accrue while he lay here?
"I take it this is how you've been solving your romantic problems?" Watts asked, examining the bottle of curare.
"If it is, what do you intend to do?" Violet asked.
"You know my damaging secret. If I go to the police, then so do you. At most, we both get arrested. Do you intend to blackmail me in return for my silence?" Watts scratched at his chin. He looked all the world as if he were having a philosophical debate, and not deciding their fates.
"I hadn't considered it," Violet told him.
"Oh, I suspect you've considered everything," Watts said. "Besides, you can't keep us both locked up."
"I'm sure I won't need to," Violet had altogether too much confidence for someone caught in the middle of a crime.
"You won't change your mind on all of this?" The detective gestured at the two of them on the couch.
Violet actually laughed. "Why would I? Arthur and I are happy together."
"Happy," Watts echoed. "Who am I to stand in the way of happiness."
"I'm not one to prevent other people's happiness either," Violet said. "My work has helped me get to know the police inspectors in Toronto. Brackenreid alone can't always protect you, but all of them together could be a different matter."
"A deal then? My silence in return for yours?" Watts suggested.
"More than my silence, Detective. I'm offering you my friendship," Violet extended her hand.
"Please," Arthur cried out.
They ignored him, and clasped hands over his prone body.
XXXXXXXXXX
A crash at the back entrance interrupted what had been another day of silence. Arthur listened for further sounds as he tried to figure out what was going on. He wondered why Marcel wasn't attending to it; he could hardly get up and do it himself.
Arthur blinked in surprise as Detective Watts slunk into view. The man leaned over and gently patted his cheek in an effort to rouse him.
"I did say I would help you," Watts explained, "though you'll be needing a new door."
The detective fumbled with his pockets until he finally managed to pull out a key. Unlocking the shackle, he said "I promise you, I never intended to leave you like this. I simply waited for them to both be out of the house."
That didn't make any sense. Violet and Marcel never left together. A lady accompanied by her house keeper, who ever heard anything so ridiculous.
"Can you stand?" Watts asked.
Arthur couldn't even shake his head.
"I expected as much," Watts said. "I'm afraid I've been unable to procure an antidote, but I did manage to procure this," He wheeled a Bath chair up.
As he helped Arthur into the chair, Watts commented, "I've never kidnapped anyone before, but I've been told that the best way to commit any crime is to pretend as if you're fully in your rights. On the other hand, I was given that instruction by people I arrested, so it may not be valid."
Watts knelt beside him. "I need you to be the one to report this. Tell them that you escaped. At least, pretend that's true long enough for you to press charges against Mrs. Hart. After that, she should be unable to cause any, erm, rumours. Hopefully."
It was strange to realize that someone could know Violet intimately, and remain innocent enough to believe she'd stick to any agreement she'd made. Still, Arthur wasn't about to argue the point now, not as the man was in the middle of taking him from the house. A line of sunlight cut under the lowered edge of the Bath chair's hood. Whatever else happened from here, he was finally out.
XXXXXXXXXX
Arthur left the hospital as soon as he could walk. Nothing could convince him to stay in bed a second longer. He felt a bit wobbly in the legs after lying down for so long, but he could say for certain the drug had truly worn off. Besides, he didn't have time for lying down. He need to get to a station house. If that detective was to be believed, he wouldn't act without Arthur's input. He grinned at the idea of bursting in and demanding an arrest, before Violet even knew he was free and could twist ears to her own version of events. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. There was something he needed to know first.
The convenient thing about being born rich was that important people made time for you, no matter what state you were in, or when you chose to arrive. When he walked into the bank and demanded to speak with his accountant immediately, no one so much as raised an eyebrow.
Arthur flounced into the chair in his accountant's office, though more in an attempt to claim some level of decorum than a desire to be seated. "I need to go over my accounts. I've been... indisposed for a few days, and I want details on everything done in my absence."
The accountant brought out his paperwork obediently. "Everything has been quite regular since you granted your wife control of your finances."
Arthur suddenly felt glad he'd chosen to sit down after all. "What exactly has she done since I..." He couldn't bear to think what she included in the papers she'd made him sign.
"Aside from one large purchase, and the transfer of some funds, you'll find your estate in good order," The accountant informed him, as if he'd taken no notice of his clients shock.
As Arthur listened to the other man drone on, he realized with some consternation that Violet had handled his affairs better than he ever had himself. While his finances may be intact, that was hardly a comfort. Until he had her arrested, she still had power over everything he owned. He leapt up without even excusing himself. The station house was the place he need to be after all. The sooner he could press charges against his wife, the sooner he could reclaim what she'd stolen from him.
XXXXXXXXXX
"I want to speak to Detective Watts," Arthur demanded as soon as he entered Station House Four. He was in no mood to explain his situation from the beginning.
"Mr. Carmicheal, I see you're feeling better," Watts called to him. He pointed toward a narrow hallway in the back. "With me."
He took Arthur to a dingy room with "Interrogation Room" marked on the door, and shut them both inside.
"I take it you're ready to come forth about your recent predicament?" Watts asked.
"I am," Arthur told him. "You will back me up on this, won't you? I thought you and Violet made a deal."
"Are you angry with me for going back on it?" The detective seemed merely curious rather than concerned.
"No, of course not. I just didn't expect you to go back on it at all," Arthur said.
Watts looked away and picked at the edge of the table. "I believe she did expect that very thing. In fact, I may have played into her hands. I acted in cowardice in not helping you sooner. Because of that, I have failed."
Arthur frowned. "Failed? How? I'm free aren't I? I've recovered. All you have to do is arrest her."
"No one's seen her all day," Watts admitted. "That is, aside from myself when I watched her leave this morning. I'm afraid Mrs. Hart has fled the city. I thought it too risky to involve anyone else, and that choice left her room to make her escape."
"Then how do we find her?" Arthur wanted to know.
"She bought a house. That's the first place we'll look, but I can't promise swift results, or any results, for that matter," Watts said.
The detective watched his reaction closely. "I realize this leaves you in an awkward position. I happen to be aware of the nature of the documents in your wife's possession. As a member of the constabulary I could lend some credibility to your case when you speak to your lawyer. Perhaps, in return we could agree to certain details regarding my involvement in this affair being left out of the police report?"
Arthur realized the man expected him to act out some form of revenge. "Yes, you did mention something about having a secret that could get you arrested," Arthur said. "Well, I don't care what it may be. I'm so grateful I could kiss you."
"It's probably for the best that you don't," Detective Watts said nervously.
Arthur shrugged off the abrupt shiftiness. Nothing about this odd man could ever bother him now. However, he did wonder something. "That night you came by, how did you know what she was doing to me?"
Watts leaned back, more comfortable with the change in topic. "Truth be told, I had no idea. I believed Mrs. Hart to be a friend, and I was concerned for her safety. That's the real reason I came. Rescuing you afterward was just doing my duty."
That last part did bother him a little, after all, but not as much as it would have before. Maybe it was better to well enough alone.
XXXXXXXXXX
Vancouver was a fast growing city, with plenty of opportunities for anyone clever. Entrepreneurs came in over the rail line every day, each with fresh ideas for exploiting the local landscape or setting up a new industry. Violet happened to be clever enough to find opportunities anywhere she looked, and here, she saw a world for the taking. What she exploited best was people, and she'd already found new grounds to start. The back-stabbing world of commercial real estate was practically made to play to her strengths.
It was a shame she'd never gotten the chance to visit her vacation home. Still, this set-up would do her nicely. Lessons from her past came in rather handy at times. A little trick she once picked up sent Arthur's money to a secret account, hers alone to use as she pleased. It was more than enough to start her own empire, and this time around, the fortunes of her life came with no strings attached. As far as anyone around here knew, she was Miss Violet Harriman, business woman.
XXXXXXXXXX
Arthur swore to himself he'd get on with his days and leave the worrying over Violet's where-abouts to the constabulary. It was better to focus on putting everything back to how it was before he met that woman. As for the rest of his time, the city didn't lack ways to distract a man, not when compared to lying on a couch. The trouble was, his mind didn't remember how to be distracted. He was too used to having space to think, and to feel, and nothing he did could suppress the habit. He went out on the town, he did what he pleased, and never felt more alone and bored in his life.
Even with his freedom, his life had somehow become smaller without Violet. Her unpredictability was what attracted him in the first place. Everyone else was so dull in comparison. All around were people eager to please. She was the only one who ever demanded that he please her. There was something wild in her, and he'd wanted to make it his own. He realized too late she wasn't his to control. She never had been; he was the one left scrambling to keep up with her devilish behaviour ever since she maneuvered him into marriage. He actually missed not getting to see what stunt she would pull next. He had wanted her punished, but he hadn't truly wanted her gone.
That feeling was what found him turning to a woman he never would have acknowledged in the past. She was rumored to be the best at what she did, and she was willing to travel outside Toronto for her work. He wasn't sure if he was determined to find Violet, or resigned to it, when he met with this private investigator.
Freddie Pink, on the other hand, met him with a more dubious expression. "You're certain why you want her found? Do you really want this kind of person back in your life? This is someone who, by your own admission, recently hurt you, and only married you in the first place for your money."
"Oh, please," Arthur protested. "Why else does anyone marry?"
She chose not to answer that comment, instead saying "This isn't my first missing persons case, but if the law gets involved I won't shield her from the consequences."
At one time, Arthur would have thrown a fit at her refusal to make things perfect for him. It seemed he'd learned how to accept being helpless.
Miss Pink went on, "Some husbands want to send along a message to their missing wives," She said it carefully, like she'd already seen the worst of both men's tempers and tears, and had no desire to see either again. She seemed ready to decide if she'd take his case based on his reaction.
Should he tell Violet he forgave her? He certainly didn't feel anything so maudlin. "Tell her not to worry," He said at last.