"Can you prove that this is real?" Finch asks Ruth, holding up the page of binder paper.
"Well, it's not my handwriting and it's not my sister's handwriting," Ruth answers. "I also saw the woman who wrote this, write it."
"How do you know she's not your sister?" Finch inquires.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ruth snorts in disbelief. "Georgia was my twin sister. You think I wouldn't know my own sister when I saw her?"
"Why didn't you come forward with this sooner?" Finch questions. "Why didn't you say something when you first noticed the change?"
"There are many things I would like to see in my life, Inspector Finch," Ruth replies a bit heatedly. "The inside of a black bag isn't one of them. That sod that my sister had the misfortune to marry promised me just such a view should I open my mouth. As it is, I am taking a very big chance here giving you this, but the woman who wrote that deserves a better life than what she had"
"So you knew about the beatings?" Finch asks.
"Knew about them?" she laughs bitterly. "Sometimes I got to have a front row seat to them!"
Finch glances over to his partner and sees the muscles in the younger man's jaw working as he tries to contain his anger. Before anymore can be said, the sound of what can only be described as a herd of horses coming down the stairs reaches the ears of the adults. A second later the twins come bursting into the room each carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder and doing their best not to notice the blood on the floor and couch.
"Have you guys got everything you need?" she asks the boys.
"Yeah," the first one answers as the second one nods his agreement.
"Go wait for me in the car, please," she instructs. "I need to talk to the inspector for a bit."
"Sure thing, Aunt Ruth," the second boy says and then they're out the door in a heartbeat.
"Do you know the woman's name?" Finch grills as soon as the door is closed. "Where is she from? Does she have any family? Why was she pretending to be your sister? Any ideas of where she might be?"
"I don't know where she's from or her name or if she has any family and I have no clue to where she might be," she replies. "All I know is that she's not from around here. And as for why she was pretending to be my sister, well, the best answer I can give you is in that paper."
"How did you get this piece of paper?" Finch finally inquires.
"The few times that Michael let the twins and this woman come to visit without him, she and I would sit up and 'talk'," she explains. "We took paper from the boys' notebooks and I would ask questions and she would write her answers. It took forever to get anything out of her, but it meant that the Ear couldn't listen in on her answers and afterwards I would burn the papers. I managed to save this one because I hoped someday that I'd be able to use it to get Michael sent to jail or something. Listen, this woman may not be my sister, but she's the only Mum the boys have ever known. I just hope you can find her and help her. The sooner this is over with, the better. We're all living in a type of limbo right now. As much as I love these kids, my husband and I don't make a lot of money and feeding these two is killing us financially. So please Inspector, find this woman and let her continue pretending to be my sister so the boys will have a real home again or declare her dead so that I can become their legal guardian and their inheritance can pay for their upkeep."
"We'll do our best to find her," Finch tells her.
"Thank you," she says with a small smile. "I better get going before those two decide to teach themselves how to drive my car. Good day, Inspector, Detective."
Ruth quickly leaves and a moment later they hear an auto start up and drive away. Finch looks down at the paper again and then hands it to Dominic. Dominic reads over the paper that as covered front and back with rather shaky hand writing.
"What do you think?" Finch asks Dominic.
"I think this either is one hell of a forgery or it confirms your suspicions about Shire Stables," Dominic answers as he hands the paper back. "What do we do now?"
"We see if they know where she is," Finch replies.
"If they do?" Dominic inquires
"Then she's already dead and we'll be looking for a body," Finch states morbidly.
"And if they don't?" Dominic questions.
"Then we find her before they do," Finch answers, fixing Dominic with a stare that brooks no arguments.
V sits and watches the monitor for some time after the police officers leave the house. He wants that piece of paper and he wants to know what she wrote. He'd also like to know how the inspector was able to link Audrey to Shire Stables.
As much as he would like to break into Scotland Yard and read that paper, maybe even perchance find those ownership papers, he has other pressing matters at hand. With some half formed plans floating around the back of his head on what to do about Finch and those papers, he returns to his dressing room. He finishes gathering his costume for the evening, making sure everything is just so before he goes to relieve some pent up energy in his play room.
A couple hours later he reemerges and heads for his bedroom. He passes the bathroom on his way and he can smell the moisture of a long bath coming from the loo. He's glad that she's out so that he may shower and get ready. Remembering how she reacted the last time she had seen him out of his regular clothes, he heads for her room to tell her that he will be leaving shortly.
He steps through the open door and comes face to face with his 'guest'. The instant she sees him, she sinks to the floor to her knees, her head down. Irritated by her reaction to him, he grabs her by her arm and hauls her to her feet. The second he lets go, she goes back down and he drags her back up. After repeating this exercise in futility a few more times, he leaves her down there and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I thought we were past this," he nearly growls, only just containing his anger.
"Past what?" she asks as she lays her cheek on the floor, her damp hair pooling under her head.
"You kneeling at my feet," he states sharply, a bit surprised that she would ask such a question while she was doing such an act.
"I'm not kneelin' at your feet," she replies as she reaches under the bed. "I dropped my earrin' and it bounced under the bed. Gottcha!"
She stands back up and holds the diamond stud out for his inspection. Then she sticks the post through the hole in her ear and attaches the backing. When she's done, she looks at him but can't seem to make her eyes go any higher than his chin.
"You could have told me you lost something under the bed," he points out, slowly allowing his arms to relax.
"You could have asked," she shoots right back, immediately blushes for her boldness and dropping her head to look at his boots.
"You're right, I could have," he chuckles a moment later after getting over the shock of her statement. "How are you feeling now?"
"All right, I guess," she softly replies with a small shrug.
"Good," he nods his approval. "I will be going out shortly and I am not sure when I will return. You are free to do as you please here as long as you do not leave and you do no harm to yourself…"
"…or your home," she quietly finishes for him, trying to ignore the fear that's creeping up from her stomach.
"Correct," he responds proud that she understands but then notices something odd. "You're trembling. Why?"
"They're lookin' for me," she hisses, panic starting to set in and she can feel the blood starting to drain from her face as she hugs herself for comfort. "What if they come while you're gone? What would they do to your home? What would they do to me?"
"I've told you before, they won't find you here," V assures her.
"But how can you be sure?" she insists, her heart racing, her breath starting to come in short pants and she can feel the sting of tears in her eyes. "How can you be sure they won't find this place? They're looking for me. They told me that should I ever escape that they would find me no matter where I hid. That there's no place that I can hide that they can't find."
"You will be perfectly safe here," he reminds her, grabbing hold of her upper arms since she looks to be on the verge of collapsing.
"I'm safe as long as you're here," she tells him, automatically holding onto his arms. "Take me with you."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," he replies.
"Why not?" she demands in a near panicked voice.
"Because I'm planning on spying on the man who runs Shire Stables," he replies and what little color that was in her face is now gone.
He guides her to sit on the bed as her legs pretty much give out. She stares at him with wide eyes as she desperately clings to him.
"Have you gone plumb locco?" she squeaks. "Those men would sooner kill you than to look at you."
"They will never notice me," he states confidently. "I will be perfectly safe. Besides, I'm not interested in confronting them; I'm interested in what they know."
"Shire Stables is out by Guildford, how are you going to get there?" she questions, unable to stop the trembling in her voice.
"I'm not," he replies. "The owner maintains a flat here in London and frequents a pub nearby. That is where I intend to go."
"And you think they're not going to notice you ease dropping on them?" she questions, a death grip now on his arms. "You stick out worse than a sore thumb dressed like that. How can you possibly not notice you?"
"I will change before I leave," he answers calmly. "Remember my attire from the other evening?"
She nods, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She concentrates on getting her heart rate and breathing under control and after a couple of minutes her grip on his arms begins to loosen. He's glad that she's finally calming down and even happier that she's letting go of his limbs since it felt like she was starting to cut off the blood supply to his hands. He knows he's strong, but it seems that when this woman is panicked she's no weakling.
"I'm sorry," she whispers as he pulls away and straightens up.
"For what?" he asks, his head tilting to the side.
"For being such a bother," she sniffs as she stares at the floor. "I never wanted to be a burden to anyone, but here I am. Helpless. What good am I?"
"You have been recovering from your injury," he points out as he looks down at the back of her head.
"I've been fine for some time now," she points out. "But all I do is sit around and cower in the corner."
"And what a delightful corner it was," he replies and she looks up at him questioningly. "Come, I didn't finish showing it to you last time."
He holds out his hand and she tentatively takes it after a few moments. He helps her to her feet and then leads her back out into the main part of the gallery until they're standing in front of the jukebox. He gently guides her until she's able to look down onto the selection list.
"There aren't a lot of songs," she observes.
"Not yet," he responds. "I will get more. Who knows, there may be more somewhere around here just waiting for you to find them for me."
"So why are you showing me this again?" she asks.
"I would like you to make the first selection," he answers.
"Me?" she questions a confused frown wrinkling her brow. "But it's your jukebox."
"Ah, but it's not really mine," he points out. "I have simply reclaimed it from one of Sutler's warehouses."
"Reclaimed it?" she questions, an eyebrow arching up at him.
"Everything here has been labeled as 'objectionable material'," he answers as he waves a hand around the room. "I have rescued them so that someday the people will get to see them again."
"And how are you goin' to make Sutler change his mind about all of this stuff?" she inquires as she tries not to blush at her audacity.
"I won't," he responds and his voice suddenly becomes darker as his hands ball into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. "But Sutler won't live forever. Someday the vox populi will have its voice once again."
She says nothing in return, but stares back down at the jukebox.
"But I'm frightening you once again," he sighs when he turns his attention back to her. "My apologies. Now, please, make a selection."
"But you did all of the work," she points out a few moments later.
"But if it weren't for you, it would still be sitting in my storage room," he counters.
"All I did was hide under the tarp like the coward I am," she reminds him.
"And if you hadn't, it would still be there," he reiterates. "And you're not a coward. You have been treated poorly in the past and your fears simply got the better of you."
"You really want me to make the first selection?" she asks.
"Yes, please," he answers, relaxing muscles now that he feels he's won that small battle.
She stares down at the selection of songs for a little while longer and then with still hesitant fingers she pushes the first two buttons. One last glance over at V to assure herself that she has permission, which he gives with a slight nod and she presses the last button. A second later the speakers hiss to life with electricity as the selected vinyl record is moved into position and starts to spin. A few moments later and the room is filled with Nat King Cole's voice and a nostalgic look comes over her face.
Unforgettable,
that's what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a
song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things
to me
Never before has someone been more
Unforgettable in
every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's
why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks
that I am unforgettable too
"Why this song?" he asks during the musical interlude.
"It was my parent's song," she quietly replies with a sad smile. "I remember them singing it to each other at the oddest moments when I was a child."
Unforgettable in every way
And forever more,
that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its
incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am
unforgettable too
"Thank you," she softly says when the jukebox goes silent once more. "I think I'll go get my laundry started."
With that she wanders away and disappears down the corridor leading to the bedrooms. He watches after her for a moment and then gives the jukebox an affectionate caress before heading off to the bathroom. A short time later, he is dressed for his outing and as he crosses through the gallery towards the exit, he can hear her from down one of the many hallways softly singing her parent's song.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Unforgettable, words and music by Irving Gordon.
Author's notes: My apologies for taking so long with this chapter. It's summer vacation and the kids are out of school. Oh joy. I'm going on vacation for a week but I hope to be able to borrow hubby's lap top to work on my stories. As always, please review.