1987
Chapter One
The fire hummed and crackled, throwing their shadows against the walls of the library. Intricately carved mahogany columns supported what seemed like hundreds of shelves full of leather-bound books, and the room glowed a rich brown from a combination of the dim, art deco lamps, and the warm fire radiating from the fireplace. There was a still steaming cup of coffee sitting on the mantle, which was adorned with the same hue of polished mahogany that made up the entirety of the room. She picked up the cup and saucer and brought the set close to her mouth, blowing lightly at the surface of the dark liquid before taking a dainty sip. She set the cup back on the saucer while she felt the coffee warm her throat before slowly turning her attention back towards her stunned, attentive audience.
“So, are we in agreement?” Margot asked, rhetorically. Her voice, always so warm, so light, took on a more serious and commanding tone. Her words lingered in the now silent library as she looked into the faces of everyone with such a foreign intensity, they were practically scared of her. Allowing her words to hang in the silence for a few more seconds, Margot turned to set her coffee back on the mantle. While the heat from the fire massaged her face, a whisper of doubt crept into her mind. Within seconds, she buried any emotion and, with gritted teeth, turned back to face the room and said, “Then it’s agreed. The night of the gala.”
Almost before the last word left her mouth, Adam slammed his glass down on the granite side table in an effort to display his disapproval. He stood quickly and silently, the fire mimicking his movement. Sandra and Arthur, the two closest to the fire, jumped as the flames grew in intensity. As Adam made his way towards the door, Audrey stood and said with a concerned voice, “Adam, don’t do this…”
Staring at his hand on the handle of the door, Adam replied, “This is insane. I could never get behind a plan like this.” Turning his head, he looked past the crowded room and directly at Margot, “There has to be another way.”
Never letting his eyes move away from Margot’s, Adam waited for a response. Something, anything, to tell him there was an ounce of consideration to his plea. The seconds dragged on, the fire again gaining strength. Reflections of the flames wavered in Adam’s eyes as small pools began to grow and his grip on the doorknob tightening in anticipation of some response from Margot. In an almost robotic tone, void of the emotion Adam wished he heard, Margot said, “There isn’t.”
After the door slammed shut and the clacking of Adam’s shoes in the marble hallway diminished completely, the tension throughout the room dissipated, led by the relaxing of Margot’s shoulders. The fire moaned as it was reduced to a steady light, and Audrey took her place back on the plush couch she was sharing with Steve. Margot picked up her coffee again, took a deep breath, then turned to face her increasingly uncomfortable audience. She glanced around the room only to see an unwelcomed mixture of emotions painted on everyone’s face: anger, fear, nervousness, and shock. She managed a faint smile that seemed to sooth everyone enough to avoid any additional walkouts. Before Margot resumed any discussion, though, she studied the old family portrait hanging on the opposite wall.
She looked at the big, toothy smile five-year-old Margot showed. She stared into young Margot’s vibrant lavender eyes; excited, happy, and carefree. She cringed to herself looking at her outfit, undoubtedly chosen after days of meticulous planning and coordination by her mom. Her mom’s hand was gently draped over Margot’s tiny shoulders; her chin lifted confidently, her smile bright and radiant. Her father’s hand gripped her mother’s, tenderly but proudly, with a devotion she had only ever really seen between her parents. Her father had a smirk across his face that suggested he had just said one of his infamous jokes that tended to produce more laughs of courtesy than from comedic prowess.
Seated in her own row, adorned in brilliant jewelry, was Margot’s grandmother. She was the very embodiment of elegance and commanded the attention of anyone that looked at the portrait. Her stern, hardened demeanor hardly suggested the loving and playful person Margot knew her grandmother to be. Margot never would have dreamed that so many of her grandmother’s stories and fairytales would so closely align with her life. She never would have thought that her grandmother’s words would culminate in the idea she had just proposed to everyone.
Sandra’s voice shook Margot out of the journey through her memories “… but, how are we supposed to pull this off?”
Margot looked at Sandra with kind eyes and a simple smile, “I’m glad you asked. I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter Two
Margot was surprised to see a continued lack of support after she and Sam, the architect of the plan, explained everything in detail. It seemed like everyone was still having trouble understanding why Margot felt she needed to do what she needed to do, and they weren’t confident they could pull something like it off. Margot felt uneasy about the group’s unwillingness to participate and was beginning to feel frantic about what this could mean for the future.
She took a moment to compose herself. To return to the elegant tranquility that she was so well known for. Everyone in the room, Margot included, knew it would take immense coordination and flawless execution. The stakes were too high and there was no room for mistakes or mishaps. And so, it was with this understanding that Margot all but abandoned the grand scheme she and Sam had devised and asked for everyone’s help instead.
As time wore on, new details of a new plan began to take shape: who would be where and when? What would they be doing there and how would they do it? What questions haven’t they thought about yet and, more importantly, what questions were they leaving unanswered on purpose? The before, the during, and the after – it had to be airtight. Understanding that there were intended consequences added to the pressure of the already nervous group but, one thing everyone soon became aware of, was that there truly was no other way. Margot was right, they had to do what they had to do.
And so, as the dessert supply began to whittle down from the ornate silver trays around the room and steaming cups of coffee were being refilled, the mood evolved again from cautious doubt to excited anticipation. The fire roared as everyone shared how they would contribute, how they would fulfill their role, how they would play out the scene. And while the excitement throughout the room swelled, Margot walked over to the portrait on the wall, smiled and reflected on what they had accomplished that night: they had hatched the perfect plan to kill Margot Crawford.
Chapter Three
It was getting late. As the excitement died down, Rachel stretched her hands above her head, let out a deep, elongated yawn and stood. It was obvious that she was worn out, not just physically, but she was also mentally exhausted. It was all a lot to take in and she wasn’t alone. The mood of the room was heavy. Rachel walked over to Margot, gave her a hug, stepped back and said in a wispy voice, her eyes not quite able to meet Margot’s, “I suppose we will be in touch then.”
Reaching out and cupping Rachel’s hands in hers, Margot calmly responded, “Rach, it’s going to work. You’ve been like my sister for as long as I can remember – I trust you.” Still holding onto Rachel’s hands, Margot looked around the room, “That goes for all of you. You are all my family, my best friends. This is going to work.” Her tone was confident, even if somewhat wishful, but her expression was stoic.
Margot said goodbye to her guests in the large, wood-paneled entryway. The marble floor reflected the brilliant light from the crystal chandelier that hung overhead. She closed the heavy iron-framed door and turned back, leaning against it. In a sort of fatigued daze, Margot’s eyes traced the outline of the plush steps of the imperial staircase, taking in the details of the furniture, foliage, and artwork that comprised the remainder of the grand vestibule. She began walking back, deeper into her house, the soft vibration of her heels echoing around her. As she approached the parlor, she was met with Adam’s disconcerted voice, “So they all jumped on board, huh?”
Margot let out a soft sigh and rerouted herself towards the parlor, responding, “I didn’t think you had really left.”
“I thought about it.”
Margot walked over to the couch opposite Adam and sat. Her lavender eyes searched the top of his head as he looked down, pained, searching the floor. She could see he was hurt and lost in his inability to change her mind.
He lifted his head and eyed the intricately engraved ceiling, careful not to look directly at her. “Margot, I don’t know if I can be a part of this. I… “
“Adam, I need you for this to work. We need you.”
“This is just crazy…” he was speaking quickly now. “Do you hear yourself? I mean, there’s no way that you got Steve to agree to this. Or-or, Rachel…” he stammered now, the frustration in his voice was palpable, “Rachel would…she would, never let you go through with this.”
“It’s decided. You understand why.” Margot was doing her best to resort to reason, while maintaining a sympathetic tone.
Adam covered his face for a second and took a long, deep breath. Through his hands, his voice was small, “I never wanted any of this. I didn’t choose this life.”
“None of us did, Adam. But it’s what we do when presented with a situation like this that is important.” Margot moved over to the couch Adam was on and put her head on his shoulder. “What we do here will influence the direction of the world for generations to come.” Adam sat forward and rested his chin on his hands as his gaze moved from the ceiling back down to the floor. Margot adjusted herself on the couch, pulling her legs in under her, “Have I ever told you about my grandmother?”
“Everyone knows Jacinda Crawford…” Adam mumbled.
Ignoring Adam, Margot cleared her throat and dipped into her memories. “My grandmother, Jacinda, was born in Belgium in the summer of 1900. Her father, my great-grandfather, was a playwright, and actually had some moderate success in his day. My great-grandmother was busy raising four children and running a small bakery in the city center. Anyway, one day, my great-grandfather abruptly announced that the family would be moving to the United States. No one really understood why, but in 1910, at age 10, my grandmother immigrated to the US, along with her brothers and her sister. They moved right outside of the Washington DC area.
“It didn’t take long until my great-grandparents noticed Jacinda excelling at nearly everything she put her mind to, inside and outside of the classroom. Math and science, art and literature, she had a beautiful singing voice and was absolutely stunning from head to toe. As she got older, she caught the eyes of a number of suitors, much to the dismay of my great-grandparents. It wasn’t until she moved off to Chicago at twenty, though, that she finally meet the man that would steal her heart.”
“Felix Crawford.” Adam filled in, more attentive now, finding himself engrossed in Margot’s story.
“That’s right, Felix Crawford. Well, long before he became Grandpa Felix, he was an up and coming financier, making a name for himself all over the Chicago financial scene. It wasn’t long before Jacinda was writing to her mother and father about this ‘dashing’ and ‘gentlemanly’ Felix. Being a young couple in a big city, they didn’t have the means to travel back to DC very often, but did make the trip at least once every year and a half or so. On one of those trips, Felix had been able to corral my great-grandfather long enough to ask for his blessing. So, it wasn’t a huge surprise when my great-grandparents received a jubilant letter from Jacinda announcing her engagement to Felix.
“Over the next few months, my grandmother and her parents exchanged a number of letters where they began to lay out plans for a Spring wedding the following year. They planned on spending the Christmas holidays together in DC to discuss wedding details. As was expected, the winter in December of 1926 was particularly nasty, so Jacinda and Felix’s train out of Chicago was pushed a day while a storm passed. Finally on their way, my grandmother described to me how a ball of anxiety began to grow in the pit of her stomach as their train drew closer to DC.”
Adam looked up, “Is this when she found them? When she found her family…”
Margot looked over at Adam, cutting him off, “…murdered. Yes.” Margot paused in a reflective moment of silence for the family she never knew. “But that’s where it gets weird. The newspapers reported this as a robbery gone wrong. A family murdered, a lone next of kin. But what they didn’t report is that nothing was stolen. There was no blood, there were no broken bones, no broken furniture, nothing fit the police’s official investigation. My grandmother told me that when she and Felix arrived at the family home, she was having intense throngs of painful heat emanating from her stomach. Her vision was blurred and her sense of taste and smell failed her. They walked in and saw everyone, her parents, her brothers, and her sister, seated around a fully prepared table. They all looked asleep… but not breathing. It was when she looked and saw the two empty seats that were reserved for her and Felix and then the handwritten note left on the table, that she fainted. The note said ‘Sorry we missed you, Jacinda’. My grandmother realized she was the one those maniacs were after. But how did they know she was supposed to be there?”
“My God, Margot… I had no idea.”
“The story never changed because the police could never figure out what actually happened. It became easier to allow the official narrative to continue because, despite all of Jacinda’s insistence for more answers, the chance of getting anywhere with the authorities was nonexistent.
“With no one left in Jacinda’s life other than Felix, they eventually married and started their life together in Chicago. After The Depression, Felix had become a powerful force, financially and politically. My grandmother became pregnant, and the Crawford name began to mean something in Chicago. Halfway through her pregnancy with Felix Jr, something happened. I never heard the full story, but less than a week after a check-up appointment where her baby was ‘healthy as could be’, she suffered a miscarriage…” Margot looked directly at Adam, “My grandmother told me that the night before the miscarriage, she had a vivid dream of a ‘shadow’ stealing her baby. I know it sounds crazy, but she swore to it until the day she died.”
Adam was noticeably unnerved.
“Eventually, my grandmother was pregnant again, but this time, with a girl.”
“Your mother…” Adam broke in.
“Yes, exactly, little Evelyn Crawford, my mother. Convinced she was cursed, my grandmother was extremely protective over my mother. By age thirty-five, with an infant and an increasingly prominent husband, Jacinda began to retreat from public view. It was around this time that people started talking about her as an odd and withdrawn person. It didn’t make sense, she was beautiful, wealthy and happy with her growing family and prestige. But it’s what happened with Felix that really changed her forever.”
“I think I remember hearing about that. Some sort of an accident or something?” Adam asked, intrigued.
“Accident.” Margot repeated, looking at her hands, withdrawn, “That’s exactly what the papers called it. ‘Felix Crawford Dies in Freak Accident’. ‘Michigan Ave Accident Claims One’.” She looked back at Adam, “But like before, the pieces didn’t fit. My grandmother became obsessed with the details and the clues. Spending hours on the phone with the detectives and rarely emerging from her home only for trips to the police station to demand more evidence. She concluded that something far more sinister than a simple accident occurred for two reasons: one, the only damage found on Felix’s car was the collapsed roof, no front, side or rear damage, and two, all the debris at the scene belonged to Felix’s car. There wasn’t so much as a shard of glass or a smudge of paint from a vehicle other than his.”
Confused, Adam ventured towards a similar line of thinking as Margot. “That doesn’t make any sense. No other car? No signs of impact with… anything?”
“You can see how this consumed my grandmother. At forty years old, she was an orphaned widow, raising a five-year-old. She had inherited millions of dollars and, together with my mother, turned her back on the world. They had moved to a stately home off Dearborn, not far from where we are now. A large iron gate bordered the sidewalk, complete with ten-foot tall hedges, so that when she inevitably became known as the ‘Witch of Chicago’, even the nosiest teenager couldn’t get a glimpse of Jacinda or Evelyn Crawford. For years, my mother, along with the ‘Witch of Chicago’, lived in virtual solitude, away from the dangers of the modernizing world, away from the nightmares that had haunted my grandmother for years.
“Eventually, my mother grew into a beautiful and inquisitive teenager, becoming more and more curious about the world outside the confines of their home. My grandmother claims she ‘felt’ the danger and the darkness evaporate over the years, and she realized that it was increasingly impossible to shield my mother from whatever it was out there that plagued her before. So, at fifteen, my mother went to a real school for the first time in her life. Along with my mother, Jacinda reemerged into society with all the intrigue and fanfare that the ‘Witch of Chicago’ should deserve. She became a tabloid regular and Evelyn also became a celebrity in her own right. Aside from the mysteries surrounding the years the two had all but vanished from the world, the stories about the Crawford women were anything but cruel and only served to boost their notoriety and social status. By twenty, my mother had become the single most eligible bachelorette in the country.
“In no time at all, Evelyn fell deeply in love with a man named Bob Prescott.” Margot walked over to a credenza perched against the wall, attractively decorated with flowers and picture frames. She picked up a frame and looked at the two beaming faces inside, “It was a whirlwind romance, really. Jacinda, ever the dubious protector, took some time to warm up to Bob, but when she did, he was family. The ‘Wedding of the Year’ between Evelyn and Robert Prescott took place in the early fall of 1963, and every lifestyle magazine had an article featuring the ‘The Heir of the Crawford Fortune’. Before long, a new story had taken over the headlines: ‘Evelyn Crawford-Prescott Pregnant!’”
Adam smiled, “You.”
Margot caught his eye and gently smiled in return, “Me.”
