Age So Crammed With Madness

Chapter III: The Assassin

"What?"

"Maybe I should start from the beginning," Susan said. She looked embarrassed, but not nearly as embarrassed as I would look if I had to confess to knowing a murderer.

"Yes," I agreed. "Maybe you should."

"I was born in Dungannon, and went to school there. Eulalia lived across the street and went to the same school. We were almost the same age, born only a day apart, so we were constantly made to play together. We became friends because we had no choice, not because we liked each other.

"She was always an envious girl, and she thought violence was the only answer to everything. As we grew up, she became more and more angry with the world in general -- and with people who had something, anything she wanted in particular. She disappeared for a year after she turned sixteen, and when she came back she told me she'd become an assassin."

Good lord. What had I gotten caught up in? Was I about to be asked to be party to an assassination?

"I didn't see her for years after that. But now she's come to stay with me. She says the police are too close on her tail for comfort, and she needs somewhere to hide until everything quietens down. So... I wanted to ask you..."

Susan stopped. She took several deep breaths. Her whole body shook like a leaf tossed by a breeze. I made no move towards her. I didn't know what to do, and I was afraid I'd only make things worse.

"What should I do?" she asked after a long silence. "Should I hand her over? Keep her hidden? Buy her an airship ticket to Timbuktu or somewhere just as far away?"

I like to think that I am reasonably qualified to give advice on several mundane difficulties. How to change a lightbulb, what to do in a powercut, how to start a car that refuses to start, that sort of thing. Giving advice in this sort of situation, however, was and is utterly beyond my abilities.

"Well..." I began, and stopped. Helplessly I looked around my living room, praying some solution would present itself. "Have you considered... asking her to leave?"

I winced. Was that really all I could think of?

Susan nodded morosely. "She laughed and said that if I tried to make her leave, she'd make sure everyone heard I was her accomplice in the assassination of Baroness Iris Dawber."

"Were you?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"Of course not!"

Well, that was a relief. It was just about the only thing in this fiasco that was.

"But she could tell everyone I was, and who would believe me if I denied it? Once you're accused of a crime, you're guilty of it in the eyes of the world. No one wants to hear the truth when the lie is more exciting."

That statement was the truth then, over a decade ago. Just as it is the truth now, and always has been and always will be. Every journalist, storyteller, author knows it. No one wants the dull or unpleasant truth when they can hear an exciting or comforting lie. But I digress.

"Where is this... Eulalia now?" What a name, I thought. Who ever heard of an assassin named Eulalia?

"Upstairs. In my rooms. When I left she was helping herself to a cup of tea and some of my shortbread!"

Susan sounded more indignant about the shortbread than about the assassin. I took a deep breath and wondered how much trouble this would cause.

~~~~

In the end we decided nothing. Wait, that's not quite true. We decided that Mrs. Credge must never, under any circumstances, have reason to suspect of Eulalia's presence.