The ebony wood of Mrs. McDermott’s vanity has spoiled and stands now as a sinister shadow of its former self. The lone perfume bottle, now tipped on its side, contains a small semblance of its former shine. The drawer is open, like a mouth agape in horror. The bulbs surrounding the mirror have all burned out, and the glass of the mirror seems to contain more of a dark and murky pond than what could be called a reflection.
All that remains inside is this torn family photo.
You pick up the ornate bottle of perfume and give it a pass in front of your nose. For a brief moment, hints of hyacinth and jasmine strike you, and you hear a familiar voice whisper behind you.
“You detectives truly are useless, you know. You couldn’t figure out what happened then, and you’re struggling to put it together even now.”
You turn to find the foggy figure of none other than Vera McDermott.
“Oh, do I? Then once I’ve finished, will you explain why you’ve wasted my time?”
“That would be my stepdaughter, Detective, and to answer your question – I’ve done nothing. So she’s disappeared? She was always running off and getting into mischief. I imagine she’s just hiding, or perhaps you’ve done something to upset her.”
“As I mentioned before, things got blurry rather quickly. I remember entering our house, and that it felt suddenly too full of people for such unpleasant weather. I had wanted to tell them all to leave, that the day had gone sour enough as it was with the breaking down of our car, but I didn’t. Birdie was rather insistent that we have a conversation, so after putting her off onto Jane I left the room. Duty compelled me to at least offer everyone some refreshments, so I went to the kitchen to gather a tray. I did, believe it or not, peep my head into Elsie’s room to make sure she hadn’t snuck off somewhere to cause trouble, and I was satisfied that she appeared to be sleeping. I found that someone had already prepared hot cocoa in the kitchen. It was sweeter than I would have prepared myself, but I figured it would do well for the guests. As I returned to the chaos of the crowd and sat down the tray, I started to feel faint. My head swam, and I felt as if I had swallowed a purse of coins! It had to have been that awfully sweet cocoa!”
“That’s a hurtful question, Detective, but I must admit it’s not entirely untrue. I didn’t care for Elsie the way that Charles cared for Elsie. She didn’t fit into my picture of the perfect family, so to speak. Virgil was enough for us, and he needed all the attention we could offer. But Charles loved her. Charles loved her and it showed in the way he would look at her. Hurting Elsie would mean hurting Charles, and that’s something I could never do. So no, Detective, I didn’t much care for Elsie, but I cared for Charles, even when he was in a different time zone, and that extended in a way to Elsie.”
