Episode
#320 - Season Finale
Part Two of Six
Montoya turned and gazed thoughtfully at the stain on the floor. Only one known witness....but if so, how had Helm ended up on that floor, bleeding to death? Why was he lying in his own office while his colleague struggled to save him, a colleague who had the skills to murder, but lacked a motive and had the perfect alibi, Montoya himself? Helm was no innocent, for all his protestations of pacifism. Montoya remembered all too well the skill with which the good doctor had murdered El Serpiente. In the end, and in the heat of the moment no doubt, Helm had reverted to killer instincts. Montoya respected that. If he were truly honest with himself, it could have even been the reason why he had once saved the doctor's life. As long as he fought to gentle himself, Helm would be too confused to be a threat. And if he reverted completely, he might well become more of an ally than Grisham, in his treacherous ambition, could ever have become. But it did not matter whether Montoya preferred the doctor over the capitan or not, to murder his own second-in-command was to challenge his authority directly. He could not let such a challenge go unanswered. Someone, preferably the guilty party, must be brought to the gallows for this crime. The question was, who was the guilty party?
As for Grisham... Helm certainly had had a motive to shoot Grisham; Grisham most certainly had had a motive to stab Helm. Their hatred had been the most public thing about either of them. But Helm's wound did not look like the type that a dying man could inflict. Nor would Helm have been able to make it across the room to smash the pistol after killing Grisham without leaving a trail of blood, at the very least. So, if Helm had shot Grisham and smashed the pistol, who had stabbed Helm? Could it have been the Queen? A lover's quarrel, perhaps? Montoya smiled bitterly at that. He could scarcely feel kindly towards the doctor in that quarter. But that still left the question of motive. Much as he hated her, Montoya could not afford to put this crime on the Queen if she had not committed it. Nor could he afford to let her escape if she had. But he could not simply ride out to the Alvarado ranch and arrest her. He had no proof. He knew who she was--for himself it was beyond a doubt--but his story would never convince the dons. He had regained his position but he was under no illusions that his power was absolute. The dons had already begun to flex their muscles again, and then there were the rumblings from Mexico. Just rumours for now, but he would not be surprised if soon there would be trouble with Spain. From now on, he must deal with the dons as a realistic check on his power and authority, or be destroyed by them when Fate's wheel turned, as she must.
Perhaps it had been Vera, after all. A crime of passion.... Or Gaspar Hidalgo, finally discovering that he had been the laughingstock of the pueblo all this time. Montoya savoured that thought for a moment. Yes, Gaspar would claim it as a crime of passion, but Montoya could still choose to punish him for it. Hanging Gaspar might set the dons back for years, as much as Don Rafael's unfortunate accident, assuming it had been an accident. The Viceroy's predecessor, whom Montoya suspected of arranging it, had always denied everything.
This baseless speculation was getting him nowhere. He needed proof of something. "Mantero!" he called sharply. "Get in here!"
Mantero appeared in the doorway and saluted. "Si, Coronel?"
Montoya dropped the ruined pistol next to Grisham's body and turned to Mantero. "When I first arrived, you said that you were nearby when you heard the shot, did you not?"
"Si, Coronel." Mantero looked nervous. "But I did not see anything out of the ordinary."
"Very well. Did you hear anything? Anything at all?"
Mantero screwed up his face, looking confused and entirely too stupid. "I don't know, Sir. Corporal Mendez was singing in the barracks. I thought I might have heard shouting from over here just before I heard the shot. It sounded like a man and a woman having an argument."
"And yet, you did not investigate?" Montoya said coldly.
"No, Sir. Not until I heard the shot, Sir," Mantero said uneasily. "It, ah, wasn't uncommon for us to hear an argument going on in the Capitan's quarters. We learned to leave him in peace and not ask any questions. I mean, he was having a fight with some other woman yesterday, too. Even he'd let us, we never would have gotten anything done if we'd interfered in his affairs."
"I see." In other words, Grisham had ordered his men to look the other way while he entertained women in his quarters. A fatal convenience for him, of which his killer had taken advantage. "Did you hear any words, recognise either of the voices?"
"Not really, Sir." If he'd thought he could get away with scratching his head in confusion, Montoya had no doubt that Mantero would have done so. "Chico was singing pretty loud."
Idiots. He was surrounded by idiots. Montoya swept back out into the courtyard, pushing Mantero aside. "Very well. Put a guard on the room in case anyone tries to get in. The killer might come back."
"S-si, Colonel," Mantero stammered behind him as Montoya stalked away.
Vera
The day before her former lover died, Vera went to visit Dr. Helm at his office. She had been feeling ill again recently and was worried that something was seriously wrong. Tessa Alvarado had offered to come with her. On the trip in, Vera distracted herself with plans to get Tessa and Dr. Helm back together, but she kept most of them to herself. Tessa did not want to talk about Dr. Helm, or how she felt about him. Something had gone wrong between them during the Queen of Swords' trial just a few weeks before. Vera thought it might be simple jealousy, but until she could get Tessa to talk about it, she wouldn't be able to help her. She really didn't understand why Tessa refused to discuss it. Vera knew when not to gossip about something to the other doņas and Tessa was her closest friend.
They were lucky to find Dr. Helm in his office. Lately, he had been rushing through his morning office hours and going out on the trail as early as possible. By the time he got back in the evening, he would be roaring drunk. Vera could see that whatever had happened, he was no happier with the current situation than Tessa was. During his examination of her, he kept his eyes down as he carefully felt Vera's abdomen and listened to her heart. "How long did you say you have been feeling sick in the morning, Seņora Hidalgo?"
"A few weeks," Vera said hesitantly. "But now my feet seem swollen all the time, and I eat like a horse! And I...I haven't, ah, you know--bled, as we women do, recently, either. What could it possibly be?"
Helm rubbed his face. Watching him, Vera felt a stab of fear. What was he hiding? "Doctor, if I am dying, please tell me! I can't stand the suspense."
He started, looking guilty, and put his hand on her arm. Tessa frowned at him and waved her fan. Hastily, he dropped his hand. "Seņora, you're not going to die, not if Dr. Pirenne and I can help it. I'm sure everything will be fine in about six or seven months. You and Gaspar will make good parents."
Vera stared at him, flabbergasted. Suddenly, she felt a need for Tessa's fan--it was much too hot in here. "Are you saying that I am pregnant? But...but that's impossible! I can't--Gaspar can't..." She trailed off, gulping for air. This was ridiculous. It couldn't be.
"I assure you, Seņora, it is very possible when a husband and wife are engaged in regular marital relations." Helm covered his face again. She was sure he was hiding a smile. "I take it that you and your husband have been, ah, paying special attention to each other lately?"
Next to her, Tessa coughed into her fan. She sounded startled. Vera was not surprised. If that was his idea of being "delicate" about referring to her affairs, no wonder Tessa had dropped him cold. Vera glared at Helm. "I thought so. You are making fun of me!"
Helm face went blank. The change was so sudden that Vera almost gasped. "Seņora, I do not make joke diagnoses. You are pregnant. I am assuming from your reaction that there is no confusion about the identity of the father. This will make all of our lives easier."
That subdued her. "I understand," she said in a small voice. "I just...I have so wanted to give Gaspar a child, but we had both given up hope...Are you sure?"
"As much as we doctors can be in these circumstances, yes." Helm leaned back and dropped his stethoscope on the table next to him. He looked at her. "Vera, if you can find a way to reassure Gaspar that this child is truly his, you should do it. He doesn't *know* anything, as far as I can tell. But I think that's only because he is usually good at lying to himself about some things. He loves you very much. If you can set him to rights about this baby as soon as possible, it would be better for all three of you."
Vera felt a chill. When she had fallen pregnant last fall, due to her rape, Gaspar had been harsh towards her, almost savage. He had changed after she miscarried and nearly died, but who knew how he would react this time unless she could convince him of the truth? Dr. Helm was right. She had thought that she had been hiding her recent illness from Gaspar because she was afraid he would treat her like that again over nothing, but secretly, she must have known. She just hadn't wanted to admit it. "I do not know if I am ready for this," she said, in an even smaller voice than before.
Tessa put an arm around her and rubbed her shoulders. "Don't worry so, Vera. It will be fine. You can compare bumps with Marta while Elena regales you with horrible tales about her own pregnancy. You won't be alone."
"No, you won't." Helm leaned forward and clasped her hands. If Tessa disapproved of it, she was too busy patting Vera on the back to tell him. "Dr. Pirenne and I will see you through this, and you have friends like Seņorita Alvarado. And your husband loves you. Hell, he worships the ground you walk on. You'll be fine. It's what you've both always wanted."
Vera began to relax. "Of course. I just...this is very big news." She managed a laugh. "Wonderful news! I should celebrate. Tessa, we should have lunch, my treat."
At that moment, the sound of heavy boots coming up the steps from outside and a door opening and closing interrupted them. Helm pulled back as Dr. Pirenne stuck his head inside the door of the examination room. His sallow face coloured as he spotted Vera and Tessa. "Oh, merde. You should have told me you were having patients in, mon ami."
"It's my office hours. Of course I have patients." Helm's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"
Before Pirenne could answer, a voice said from behind him, "Look, Doc, are you gonna cut my hair or what? I don't have all day, here." Vera gasped. It was Marcus Grisham.
Act Two
Marta
Marta was worried. She had hoped to reassure herself by doing a Tarot reading for Tessa, but the results were proving more and more disturbing. No matter how many times she read them, the same two cards--Death and The Hanged Man--came up over and over again. Sighing, she pushed them aside and put her head in her hands. She missed Roman so much these days, now that she knew she was pregnant. But he had gone off to Monterey with Fenner to buy things for the baby. She didn't expect him back until the end of the week.
Perhaps if she had not overheard that conversation yesterday, she would not have read the Tarot. But that would not have changed the reading. One could not avoid one's fate by deliberately remaining ignorant of it.
She had been waiting for Tessa. They had come into town with Vera, who was anxious about her health. Marta had felt good things about it, but dared not tell Vera that. Much as Marta liked Seņora Hidalgo for being a loyal friend to Tessa, the Seņora's life was much too complicated to make such announcements to her without testing the waters first. To avoid a potential storm, she excused herself from going with Tessa and Seņora Hidalgo to the doctors' office and went to the market instead.
Since no supply ships had come in for over a month, there was nothing worthwhile to be had in the stalls. Marta went to sit in the shade in one corner of the market, near an alleyway. Perhaps it was because she was older than the usual first-time mother, but she was finding her pregnancy exhausting. She was sitting there, fanning herself in the heat, when she became aware of two men talking in the alleyway. They were speaking in low voices, as if they did not want to be overheard by anyone. This hardly surprised her--why else would they be lurking in an alleyway?
What did surprise her was that she recognised one of the voices--it was Capitan Grisham. What was Grisham doing lurking in an alleyway? The men had been speaking English--a language she knew to nothing about, but now they switched to Spanish.
"The Viceroy wishes to know what you have done for him lately," the strange man said in a silky voice.
Grisham sounded disgusted. "Tell the Viceroy I've done plenty of things for him. If he wants me to do more, maybe he should pay me better."
"The Viceroy only pays for results. For which results should he pay you?"
"Hey, I took care of Alvarado, didn't I?" Grisham said, his voice rising in irritation. That made Marta sit right up on her bench. "Alvarado"? Surely he did not mean Tessa?
The man shushed him. "That was four years ago, during the time of his late, lamented predecessor," he said, in a voice so quiet that Marta, her heart beating in her throat, had to scoot over and lean nearly into the alleyway to hear it. Oh, Dios, they mean Tessa's father, Rafael! She was very careful to remain out of sight. If they saw her now...she dared not think what they would do. "And since then, his daughter has made her claim on his property in such a way that her father might as well have lived. While I trust you would not shirk at killing a woman, such a death would certainly backfire. The dons would be horrified to see one of their doņas murdered. So, tell me what you have done for him lately?"
Grisham was silent for some time. Marta held her breath, hoping he could come up with nothing. Finally, he said, "I can give you the Queen of Swords."
The man chuckled. "Many men, including your coronel and even you, yourself, have promised this thing many times. Tell me why this time would be different. Tell me why it should even matter. She is a clever bandita. Perhaps she is more useful to the Viceroy alive than dead, heh?"
"Well, sure, if that's how you want to play it." Grisham did not sound as if that would be the way he would prefer to play it. "But I bet you'd be able to persuade her to work with your boss a whole lot more easily if he knew who she was, don't you think?"
There was a pause, most likely while the man thought over Grisham's proposal. Marta felt sick. That was no more or less than blackmail. If such a man as the Viceroy ever found out the Queen's identity, he would never let her be. Her Tessita would never agree to his demands if pressed to it, and she would end up dead for her scruples. Yet, Marta could never see herself counseling Tessa to accept such a devil's bargain, either. Grisham or the Viceroy. Was there even a choice between the two? Oh, my Tessita. How deep your father's enemies are rooted in the soil of this land. How could we know the conspiracy went so high? For just a moment, she felt a fierce longing to go back to Spain, where at least she had known what the jackals looked like. Then, Grisham's companion began to speak again and she leaned over to hear. She must remember every word.
"And how could you create this great miracle, Capitan?" the man said. "Are you so close to this bandita?"
"We've had our differences, the Queen and me, but we've had to work together more than once, ya know." Grisham sounded nettled. "Sometimes, you even have to work with bandits to get things done."
"Indeed." The man chuckled. "But that was not quite what I had in mind. You see, when I look around this little pueblo, I can think of other much more suitable candidates for this job. The good Dr. Helm, for example."
"Oh, there's nothing 'good' about Helmie, I can tell you that. What about him? You don't seriously think he'd ever tell you who she is, do you? Even if he knew."
"He knows. He is very good at hiding it, but I am certain that he knows."
"Oh, yeah?" Grisham asked suspiciously. "And how do you know that?"
"Why, because he has stopped trying to find out who she is, of course." Marta bit her lip. "As you may recall, that was once a great obsession of his, though I understand that she humiliated him two years ago when he made a serious attempt to piece together her identity. Yet, shortly after that, he seemed to give up."
"So what?" Grisham snapped. "He's been wanting to get under her corset for years. Hell, for all you and I know, he probably has. But as far as I can see, that would just make him less inclined to tell you who she was now than before when he didn't know."
"That was two years ago. Then, he was not courting Seņorita Alvarado. Then, he had not been exposed as a poisoner. Then, he had not taken on a Frenchman as his colleague."
Grisham snickered. "If you think you can hang that poisoning charge on him better than that kid Malsano could, you're welcome to try. Helmie's a slippery one, he is."
"Oh, Capitan, clearly you need further instruction from our mutual employer if you think that you would need a formal charge to bring a man down. No, I speak of gossip, the kind that destroys a man's hopes and dreams. They never did find the source of that mass poisoning last All Soul's Day, did they? Who knows? Perhaps our good doctor was involved in that. Perhaps he was even behind it. Again, who knows? And more to the point, who cares, as long as a hint here or an insinuation there gets the Viceroy what he wants?"
Marta held her breath. What would Grisham do? He knew what had caused the mass poisoning of the town. He and Tessa had brought down the one responsible, a vengeful spirit, together. Would Grisham speak the truth now or was it too much to ask of him so far down his road?
"I tell you what," Grisham said. As he spoke, Marta's heart sank. "You get me a personal audience with the Viceroy and I'll give you Helm and the Queen together, on a plate. You want to use them for your little games? I can fix that up."
"And how do you intend to manage that feat, Mi Capitan?" the man asked, his tone strong with irony, like bitter tea.
"Uh uh. Not to you. You'd just go back to the Viceroy and tell him it was your idea, collect the money. No, I want to see him myself. I think you can arrange that."
"Very well." The man sounded grudging. "It may take a few days."
"I'm a patient man. I can wait. Now, if you'll excuse me, in the meantime I'm due for a haircut with that Frenchman Helmie took on as his partner. I hear he's pretty good with a razor." The sound of footsteps drew nearer to the mouth of the alleyway. Suddenly coming back to herself, Marta realised her danger. Ignoring the twinge in her belly at the abrupt movement, she stood up and hurried back out into the market. And only just in time. As she busied herself with some tired-looking black lace at a stall, Grisham passed by only a few feet behind her. He was alone. She glanced at him after he went by. He seemed to have taken no notice of her, Gracias a Dios. She could not afford to alert him to her presence, not after what she had heard in that alleyway.
She watched with growing alarm as he headed toward Dr. Helm's office, but she dared not follow him. There was no time to warn Tessa and Seņora Hidalgo. She would just have to hope for the best. She winced when she heard shouting inside the building a few minutes after Grisham entered. Not long after that, Grisham came stomping out. Helm came out onto the steps and tossed something after him--his hat. Grisham picked up the hat and brushed it off, glaring up at Helm, who glared back. The standoff ended when Helm turned and went back inside, shutting the door almost in Grisham's face. Grisham stood there outside for a moment, until he seemed to notice that people in the market were watching the scene. "What the hell are you all staring at?" he shouted at them, then strode off toward the soldier's barracks.
Marta made her way over to the office. As she approached the steps, the door opened. Seņora Hidalgo, followed by Tessa and Dr. Helm, hurried down the steps. Seņora Hidalgo seemed close to tears. "I'm terribly sorry about this, Seņora Hidalgo. I had no idea that would happen."
"Never mind. I am sure that it wasn't your fault," Tessa said in a voice that implied that it most certainly was his fault. That set Dr. Helm back on his heels and his face fell, though he said nothing. How could Tessa play with men's hearts so carelessly? Did she think the rift between them now was a game? Tessa turned to Seņora Hidalgo. "Come, Vera. You can come and stay with me until you're feeling better."
Marta's heart sank at the words. She needed to speak to Tessa immediately, but how could she possibly do so with Grisham's mistress within earshot? "Tessita, perhaps Seņora Hidalgo would prefer to go back to her own hacienda--"
"No. I insist." Tessa put her arm around Seņora Hidalgo's shoulders. "It will be fine. You'll see," she said. Seņora Hidalgo looked so grateful that Marta could not find the words to protest anymore. Once Tessa broke the news to her on the way home, she lost all desire to protest. They could not send Vera packing, not after finding out so suddenly that she would have a baby. Marta would have to wait.
Continue to Part Three
If you have missed any episodes so far, you will find them in the Season Three Archives section .
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