Page 83 of An Immaculate Deception

“I was her all along,” she mutters.

“Who?”

“The foul woman.”

“What foul woman?”

She doesn’t respond. Just shakes her head.

She sits back on the edge of the bed. “I look like my mother.”

As the first rays of morning fill the room, my mind clears somewhat. I am in a room with a dead body, drenched in blood, and my right hand is trembling.

“Oh God,” I croak. “That man, that masked man. What if he comes back looking for Lobo?”

“He won’t.”

“But—”

“He doesn’t want to be incriminated. He’ll never show his face here again.”

Suddenly, I hear horses outside. I pull open the curtains and the pale light of dawn pours in. I squint, and I make out the shiny black horse and the official uniform of the police inspector. I stare in dull horror.

“Who is it?”

“The police inspector. I don’t understand…I never sent for him…”

Mother makes a tsk sound with her mouth. “I told Maria das Dores to send for him earlier.”

I round to stare at her. “You did?”

Mother does not look frightened. She’s scanning the blood-drenched room. The floorboards and the sheets are blood soaked. The walls have blood splatters on them, the vanity, the carpets, and even the washbasin.

I am entirely drenched in blood. My shirt, pants, face, and arms are red. I could change quickly into clean clothes, but my skin is stained as well, and now my heart pounds in my chest in panic. It would take hours to scrub the blood off my skin.

Then comes a knock at the door: familiar in its aggressiveness.

Mother shakes her head. Don’t answer.

I don’t stir. We listen, then the knock comes again, this time louder.

Then I hear the front door opening.

“Hello…?” he calls out. “Senhor Neves?”

I recognize the voice; it’s the same fellow who came by the other day.

“Your housekeeper sent for us,” he says. I hear the creaking of the steps as he comes up the staircase, slowly. He remembers the layout of the house.

Mother places a finger to her lips, wordlessly telling me to not stir.

I press my back to the wall and shut my eyes, afraid of making a noise.

“Senhor Neves? Are you here?”

He’s now on the upper landing. We are in the room closest to him. If he decides to check the rooms, he will see us.

I look meaningfully at the axe. Desperation makes me consider it. I did it once; I can do it again. But will it bring more police officers here? I can’t think straight…