Page 78 of The Six Murders of Daphne St Clair

“Well, you got me,” Daphne said, and Ruth held her breath. “We lived on the same block, and he certainly sounds like my type. Rich and handsome. And I sure do love watching old men die,” Daphne said, a mocking smile on her face. “It must have pissed you off. You finally thought your ship had come in and your father pops his clogs. It sure puts the dead in deadbeat dad!”

“So, you’re confessing?” Ruth asked wildly, unable to believe that this hell was finally coming to an end.

“Am I?” Daphne mused. “I don’t know that I am. Warren’s the only death I confessed to in Florida; adding another might. . . complicate things.” There was a sparkle in her eyes. She thrived on this: misery and trauma. Everyone else struggled in these moments but Daphne clearly loved it.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Ruth snapped, slamming her hand on the table, knocking her laptop on the floor. White-hot rage surged through her, blotting out everything but the monster sitting across from her. Should she just strangle Daphne? It wouldn’t be hard to crush that bony neck, her death would be its own kind of closure. “It doesn’t matter now. The game is over. Just tell the truth!”

“Whooee! I’ve never seen you get this riled up. I’m glad we’ve got that on tape for posterity! You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I killed him, maybe it was someone else. The world is full of people who got away with murder. They’re just walking around, enjoying life, while the rest of you tie yourself into little knots trying to follow the rules.” Daphne hooted with laughter, her face ablaze with triumph.

Ruth turned away, feeling her body shake with the strain of this moment, of all the years she’d spent agonizing over this case. Why wouldn’t Daphne confess to this murder? It wasn’t like the Gabrielle murder; it wouldn’t fundamentally change what people thought of her. In Daphne-land, killing Richard Montgomery was just par for the course. Was she refusing to confess to have power over Ruth? So that she could dangle hints and watch Ruth try desperately to catch her? Or did she just like the feeling of being in control? Of finding one more person to hurt even now when murder was off the table? That thought made Ruth sick.

“You’re disgusting,” Ruth hissed.

“That’s not exactly a minority opinion,” Daphne said with a shrug. “Why don’t you sit down, settle your kettle, and lay out your case against me. Who knows? I might be compelled to confess.”

Daphne was smiling but there was a flinty glint in her eye.

Is she enjoying this?Ruth slowly felt her rage cool down into revulsion. Here was this funny, intelligent, unique woman who spent the first part of her life being preyed upon only to spend the rest of her life as a predator. What a waste of a person. Ruth couldn’t stand to be here any longer, especially now that she’d shared something so important from her life. Ruth looked at Daphne with fresh eyes and all she saw was frustration and disappointment. This woman couldn’t free Ruth. She couldn’t even free herself. Ruth was going to have to find her own way to move on.

“No, we’re done here. It’s obvious that you’re going to keep lying to me, about Gabrielle and about my father. I don’t need this,” Ruth said abruptly, shoving her laptop into her bag.

Daphne seemed surprised. She probably thought this would go on as long as she wanted. That Ruth was going to sit here and say thank you for all the shit she shoveled.

“Now you’re just being ungrateful! I’ve given you the story of a lifetime,” Daphne said, her pride obviously wounded. But Ruth didn’t care. She couldn’t sit here any longer, listening to Daphne twist the truth and find a million justifications for cold-blooded murder. It was like poison seeping into her blood, blurring her vision and leaving her nauseous. She would never get the truth out of her and maybe, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. The dead were dead, and the living would just have to find a way to muddle through.

“Yes, but every story has an ending,” Ruth retorted.

She left Daphne sitting there alone, too frail to follow her. By the time she left the building and walked into the light, Ruth felt like she could breathe again.

PreyAllDay:

So is that it? Ruth confronts her about Gabrielle Hanks’s death, they argue, and then it just ends with Daphne comparing true crime fans to people who stare at car accidents. And then the podcast just stops?!? Was that an artistic choice or do you think Ruth had a technical problem?

ShockAndBlah:

Is the podcast over?? Or maybe Ruth’s just waiting for the sentencing to pick up the story?

BurntheBookBurnerz:

You guys. . . what am I supposed to listen to now?

ShockAndBlah:

Okay weird theory, but does anyone think CapoteParty might be. . . Ruth? Think about it, they always seem to know more about the case than everyone else. And they went from posting every day, all day, to almost never being around?

PreyAllDay:

But why ask what senior home Daphne is in? Ruth obviously knows that.

ShockAndBlah:

To throw us off her scent.

BurntheBookBurnerz:

Or. . . maybe it’s Diane? Or one of her grandchildren?

StopDropAndTroll:

---