Page 74 of The Six Murders of Daphne St Clair

BurntheBookBurnerz:

Maybe? But she was also just a kid who’d lost the only parent she’d ever known. So that probably wasn’t her being an asshole, that was grief.

StopDropAndTroll:

My mom died when I was a kid.

PreyAllDay:

That tracks.

ShockAndBlah:

I’m shocked no one’s tried to off Daphne yet, especially now that we know she kills children. I feel like enough people know where she lives. I’m surprised no one’s snuck in and finished her off.

PreyAllDay:

If they want to, they better hurry. She’ll be going to prison any day now.

CapoteParty:

How do you know?

PreyAllDay:

Friend of a friend. I can’t say more without implicating them. But it’ll be this week for sure.

ShockAndBlah:

Wait, CapoteParty?? You’re back!! We’ve been wondering about you!?!?

ShockAndBlah:

. . . CapoteParty?

ShockAndBlah:

Ah fuck. They’re gone again.

Chapter Thirty-Three

At least, that’s what I told Ruth.

Everything was true, except for that last little bit. A woman has to have some secrets, and why wouldn’t you want to hide the ‘worst’ thing you ever did? Especially when you don’t feel any regret over it? You see, I did find Gabrielle that night but the whole story actually started a few weeks earlier when I came home from grocery shopping and found her smoking in her bedroom when she should have been at school.

Gabrielle sat in a white wicker chair, her bare feet up on the matching desk, yellow-painted toenails wiggling, looking as smug and sinister as a Bond villain. She’d been brushing her hair and the walnut color shone in the sunlight like a piece of expensive antique furniture. A lit cigarette was in her mouth, the curls of smoke insouciantly crowning her hair. She met my eyes and coolly tapped the cigarette in Diane’s sterling silver Tiffany’s christening cup.

“Are you serious? You think you’re allowed to smoke? And don’t think I don’t recognize my brand, you little thief,” I hissed. She just smiled and took another drag. A flicker of unease struck me. This was bold, even for Gabrielle.

“You know, Rose did something interesting yesterday. She was working on a family tree for school and I saw that she wrote down your name as Cecilia Dubois and then erased it and wrote down Daphne Hanks. Which I thought was kind of funny. What kind of idiot doesn’t know her own mom’s name?” Gabrielle mused.

Oh, Rose. She wasn’t the brightest bulb. Thank God she was pretty and had a sister to stop her from joining the first cult who told her about their groovy little pad in Guyana.

“Well, that’s my middle name—” I began but Gabrielle cut me off.

“So, I took Rose off for a little talk. She didn’t want to give anything away, but I told her that I’d spread another rumor about her and Diane. Something real disgusting. So, she told me that you used to go by the name Cecilia Dubois when you were married to a man named David. I asked if that was her dad, but she said no. That her dad died when she was a baby. That was important, but I knew I needed more.”

I frowned. More for what?

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