“I regret what I did to Oliver, but he was a bad person. A dangerous person. If Damien knows what I did, I can’t run the risk of him telling the police. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison,” I say, my voice cracking. “And if he killed Marlowe, don’t you want to do something about it?”
“What will we say?”
“Create an excuse to get Damien out of the room. Maybe take Preston with you. I can fill Constance in on the rest,” I say.
Someone knocks on the bedroom door. The rattling wood makes us both jump.
“Tippi?” It’s Preston. “Is Ava with you?”
She’s white as a ghost, mouth agape as if debating what to say. I lock eyes with her, pleading for silence, for complicity.
“Yes,” she calls at last. “I’ll be right out.”
I wait to speak until I hear the dull padding of retreating footsteps.
“See? This is why we need to go back downstairs. Make sure everyone is settled before searching through his things.”
Ava pinches the bridge of her nose, looking away from me. “None of this can be real.”
“Please,” I say, my voice a whisper. “I know how shocking this is, but you have to believe me. Right now, all that matters is finding out what happened to Marlowe and who is targeting me. Just let me get through this night, and I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”
“You killed someone, Tippi.” Her voice wavers like a house on the verge of collapse. “You killed Oliver.”
“I know!” My volume is louder, more vicious than I intend. Ava jumps a little, and I try to regain my composure. “Ava, please. You’re my best friend. Just keep this between us for the rest of the night.”
Ava nods, the movement barely visible. I could have easily imagined it. She tightens her shawl around her shoulders and heads for the door. That’s the most confirmation I’ll get that she’s willing to keep quiet, at least for now.
The police will arrive in a little over an hour. They’ll investigate Marlowe’s death, but I can’t risk Damien telling the police about Oliver, too.
I’ll have to confront him before it comes to that.
Tippi’s Takes Presents:
What Hitch Taught Me About Life
An exploration of life and cinema from the viral sensation
by Tippi Rathbone
Chapter Eight
Rear Window(1954): Someone Is Always Watching
My personal favorite from Hitchcock’s list of fifty-plus films isRear Window.The dreamy duo of Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly, both veteran Hitchcock actors, is inspiring, as is the colorful cinematography, but it’s the simplicity of the plot that reels me in time and time again.
A man confined to his city apartment (another Hitchcock staple) entertains himself by spying on his neighbors, including: an extroverted dancer, an aging would-be socialite, and an affectionate newlywed couple. Of course, the ultimate reveal is that none of his neighbors’ lives are what they seem. The dancer is awaiting her lover from overseas, the fashionable Miss Lonelyhearts is depressed and longing for human connection, and even the lovestruck couple soon descend into maritalbickering. At the center of the drama, however, is the neighbor who may (or may not) have murdered his bedridden wife.
Rear Windowreminds viewers that no one’s lives are as they seem from an outsider’s perspective, while also highlighting the possibility that someone is always watching. Our true secrets and intentions can only be hidden for so long, especially in the world of Hitchcock.
30
Before
Memories of Oliver rumbledand spun.
Our first meeting. The overnight trip to Boston for my birthday. His smile. All the times he made me laugh, and how I’d depended on those moments to carry me forward. Now his lifeless body sprawled across the floor, Marmee’s stolen jewels tumbling from the top of the backpack.
My mind raced with possibilities. I could call the police and report a burglary. I could say I caught him in the act of stealing and had no choice but to defend myself. Of course, this wasn’t some random burglar. Oliver was my fiancé. It would be hard to argue there wasn’t some type of premeditation or personal motive involved.
