“It nearly killed me to have you committed,” Scott said. “Nearly killed me. But we had to. You were going to harm yourself.”
To Quinlan’s relief, Sally actually managed to laugh. “Oh, that’s really good, Scott. You’re a wretched liar. Now, Noelle, when my father was beating me, or just holding me down while he stood over me, he’d laugh, tell me how he finally had me right where he wanted me, where I deserved to be.
“Goodness, I remember it all now. He said it was his revenge for all the years I tried to protect you, Noelle. He said being in this nice place would keep my mouth shut about the other, but I don’t know what he meant by that.”
“I do,” Quinlan said. “We’ll get to that later.”
She smiled at him and nodded, then turned back to her mother. “Did he tell you how much he hated me? But I guess locking me away wasn’t enough for him. I guess he wasn’t beating you enough, Noelle, since he had to come and beat me as well. Twice a week. Like clockwork. He was a man of disciplined habits. I was so drugged I sometimes didn’t even know, but Holland, that pathetic little creep, he would say, ‘Yep, every Tuesday and Friday, the old guy’s here to knock you around and beat off.’
“Of course, I do remember many of the times, particularly when they lightened the drugs. It pleased him-to know I knew it was him and I was helpless to stop him doing anything he wanted to do.”
Noelle St. John turned on Dr. Beadermeyer. “She is sick, isn’t she, Alfred? This can’t be true, can it? And not just Amory, but Scott too. Why, he’s sworn to me that she’s very ill. Just as you have.”
Beadermeyer shrugged. It was the man’s favorite response, Quinlan thought. “I think she believes what she’s saying is true. She really is very ill. Because she believed he did this to her, she had to murder him to assuage her own guilt. I told you how she managed to hide the sedatives beneath her tongue and escape the sanitarium. She came straight here, like a homing pigeon, took her father’s gun from his desk, and when he came in, she shot him. You heard the shot, Noelle. So did you, Scott. By the time I got here she was standing over him, watching the blood leak out of his chest, and all of you were just staring at her. I tried to help her, but she turned that gun on me and escaped again.”
Quinlan sat forward on the sofa. Ah, now it would come out. It was time. None of this surprised him. In a few minutes it wouldn’t surprise Sally either.
Beadermeyer turned to Sally, and his voice was gentle as a soft rain on the windowpanes. “Come, my dear, I’ll protect you from the police. I’ll protect you from the FBI, from the press, from everyone. You must leave this man. You don’t even know who he is.”
“Susan,” Scott said, “I’m sorry for all this, but I know you couldn’t help yourself. All those delusions, those dreams, those fantasies, Doctor Beadermeyer told us you had. You did shoot Amory, you had the gun in your hand. Noelle and I saw you holding that gun, leaning down over him. We just want to help you, protect you. We didn’t tell the police a thing. Doctor Beadermeyer left before they even came. No one accused you. We’ve been protecting you all along.”
“I didn’t kill my father.”
“But you told me you didn’t remember anything,” Noelle said. “You told me you were afraid I’d done it and that was why you ran away. To protect you, I made the police suspect me, acted as guilty as I could, even though I hadn’t killed him. What saved me was that they couldn’t ever find the gun. Neither Scott nor I ever told the police that we were practically witnesses to the shooting. In fact, Scott didn’t even tell them he was here. That made me a better suspect. They couldn’t find you. The police are certain that you know I did it and that’s why you ran. But I didn’t, Sally, I didn’t. You did.”