Miss Shaughnessy II [ENG/ESP]




I put on a beautiful brown coat and went down to the hotel reception, by which time the evening had arrived and I was scheduled to attend the funeral of my dear Thomas. I had brought a ridiculous amount of mourning clothes in my suitcase, but at the last minute I opted for a white dress, which years ago he had given me as a gift.

Again Sherriff Brown was after me and I actually liked his presence, although Thomas always told me that Robert was in love with me, I never noticed any interest on his part. Now we were two divorcees and my friend lay in a coffin, from where I was sure, he was pleading for justice.

I knew very well that Margareth would be at the funeral service, but I didn't know how I was going to rebuke her. I needed her confession, if only for the sake of investigation. Roberth had asked me not to interfere in the police investigation, but I gave him my word that nothing would put me in danger, the only thing I wanted to do was to clarify the facts.

When I arrived, I caught a glimpse of the coffin and a lot of people were accompanying the coffin. I pretended to be pleased, but I knew very well that wakes were held to satisfy public morbid curiosity and to increase the pain of loved ones, if it had been my decision, surely I would have spared people that spectacle.

Margareth looked inconsolable, so much so that something inside me was moved and for a moment I had doubts about continuing, but I knew very well that Thomas would not commit suicide. Although he never confessed anything to me, it was clear that he was suffering great stress in the last days of his life. He had yet to have children, his wife was very young and he was barely in his 30s.

—Margareth, I'm so sorry for what happened, my dear —I said as I tightened a hug around him.

—Thank you for coming, Sammy. I know, how much Thomas loved you, I would have been happy to see you one last time... but, I'm glad you could come.

—I couldn't stop saying goodbye to my Thomas, my dear Thomas, —I was a pretty tough woman, not even the divorce had moved me as much as my friend's tragic end, -I hate to tell you this, but I can't conceive the idea of him committing suicide... excuse me, but I just don't understand it.

-I don't think so either, —Margaret seemed strangely suspicious as if something was tormenting her, "I need to talk to you, but I don't want it to be here.

—We can talk in the next room. I don't want to waste a minute.

We both went out to a nearby room, from that point I could tell that Roberth was following us with his eyes, so I managed to throw him a sly look and ask for time with my hands. The adjoining room had a gloomy aspect, just as I passed by I noticed how the atmosphere changed to be much heavier.

-Thomas had an affair," that confession caught me off guard, "the night before he died I had gone out to my parents' house, but I forgot my umbrella and I knew it would rain. So I stepped back and noticed a woman entering the house holding my husband's arm. I felt betrayed, but I was crafty and sneaked in through the kitchen.

—What do you mean, an affai?r, that's impossible, Thomas adored you.

—I thought so too, but it was clear that something was troubling him greatly, and God knows, I never wanted to pressure him. Despite all the difficulties I remained faithful to his side, but the reason for all his panic attacks and paranoia had a name and a surname: Caroline Wilson.

—Caroline Wilson? —I mumbled as I ingested a rather hot coffee.

—She herself. She met Thomas at college and they've been having a torrid affair ever since. I listened as she berated Thomas for his lack of guts, fervently demanded that he divorce and separate from me. I could see her as she quietly brewed tea and uttered words of hate and love to my husband.

—But, then, that was the reason Thomas was having such a hard time. If she talked, it would not only end his marriage, but his career.

—Not only that, Caroline was threatening to accuse him of rape. I wanted to go into the living room and hit her as hard as I could, but I decided to keep my composure. That's how I managed to hear the sordid details of their encounters, which, to my peace of mind, all occurred in a stable outside of town. She took a cynical attitude, even though Thomas repeated ad nauseam that her father would never allow her to marry a divorcee, she would not listen to reason.

—I saw Ernest Wilson at the police station this morning. According to him, he was over there inquiring about the Thomas case, I saw him with a little girl.

—It was probably Caroline herself —Margareth reflected.

—However, I'm afraid I still have many more questions Margareth, —I tried to qualify my questions, but I have always won the recklessness —The first thing I want to know is why you have not told the police about this meeting between Caroline and Thomas and secondly, why did you take so long to call the emergency?

—Simple, when I realized that Thomas had deceived me, I waited quietly until that rascal had left. Then I confronted him and although I felt sorry for him, I decided to leave for my mother's house, although he begged me not to leave him, —Margareth began to sob bitterly, while covering her face with her hands —perhaps if I hadn't left he would still be with us.

—It is not your fault, at least I want to believe so, but your way of proceeding will be fraught with doubt if it is discovered that Thomas's death was not a suicide, but a murder...

—There is only one reason why I have omitted Thomas' meeting with Caroline: I do not want to subject myself to public scorn, nor Thomas, despite his slip, —Margareth seemed sincere, those were difficult years to be a woman — that is why I have confessed it to you for your guidance.

—My dear, if that woman had anything to do with Thomas' death, I will have her thrown in jail and when that happens, you won't have to worry about public scorn. But, you must trust me and do as I ask. I am not leaving this town until justice is done.

To be continued...


Me puse un hermoso abrigo color café y bajé a la recepción del hotel, para entonces, la noche había llegado y yo tenía previsto asistir al funeral de mi querido Thomas. Había traído en mi valija una cantidad ridícula de ropa de luto, pero a última hora me decanté por un vestido blanco, que años atrás él mismo me había obsequiado.

Otra vez el sherrif Brown iba a por mí y de hecho me agradaba su presencia, aunque Thomas siempre me decía que Roberth estaba enamorado de mí, nunca noté ningún tipo de interés de su parte. Ahora éramos dos divorciados y mi amigo yacía en un ataúd, desde donde estaba segura, imploraba por justicia.

Sabía muy bien que Margareth estaría en el servicio fúnebre, pero no sabía cómo iba a increparla. Necesitaba su confesión, aunque fuera por mera investigación. Roberth me había pedido que no me inmiscuyera en la investigación policial, pero le di mi palabra que nada me pondría en peligro, lo único que quería hacer era esclarecer los hechos.

Al llegar, vislumbre el ataúd y un montón de gente acompañaba el féretro. Fingí complacerme, pero sabía muy bien que los velorios se hacían para satisfacer el morbo público y para acrecentar el dolor de los seres queridos, si hubiera sido una decisión mía, seguramente le habría ahorrado ese espectáculo a la gente.

Margareth lucia inconsolable, tanto que algo dentro de mí se conmovió y por un momento tuve dudas de continuar, pero sabía muy bien que Thomas no se suicidaría. Aunque nunca me confesó nada, era claro que estaba sufriendo un estrés muy grande en los últimos días de su vida. Todavía no llegaba a tener hijos, su esposa era muy joven y él apenas pisaba los 30.

—Margareth siento mucho lo que ha pasado, querida—dije mientras estrechaba un abrazo a su alrededor.

—Gracias, por venir Sammy. Sé, cuánto te quería Thomas, hubiera sido feliz de verte una última vez… pero, me alegra que pudieras venir.

—No podía dejar de despedirme de mi Thomas, mi querido Thomas, —era una mujer bastante dura, ni siquiera el divorcio me había conmovido tanto como el trágico final de mi amigo — odio decirte esto, pero no concibo la idea de él se haya suicidado… discúlpame, pero es que no lo entiendo.

—Yo tampoco lo creo, —Margareth, parecía extrañamente sospechosa como si algo la estuviera atormentando — necesito hablar contigo, pero no quiero que sea aquí.

—Podemos hablar en el salón contiguo. No quiera perder ni un minuto.

Ambas salimos a una sala cercana, desde ese punto me pude dar cuenta que Roberth nos seguía con la mirada, por lo que alcancé a lanzarle una mirada socarrona y a pedirle tiempo con mis manos. La sala contigua tenía un aspecto lúgubre, justo al pasar notaba como el ambiente cambiaba a ser mucho más pesado.

—Thomas tuvo un affaire, —aquella confesión me tomó desprevenida— la noche antes de su muerte había salido a casa de mis padres, pero olvidé mi sombrilla y sabía que llovería. Así que di paso atrás y noté que una mujer entraba a la casa tomada del brazo de mi marido. Me sentí traicionada, pero fui astuta y me metí a hurtadillas por la cocina.

—¿Cómo que un affaire?, eso es imposible, Thomas te adoraba.

—Yo también lo creía así, pero estaba claro que algo le preocupaba a sobremanera y Dios sabe, que nunca quise presionarlo. A pesar de todas las dificultades me mantuve fiel a su lado, pero la razón de todos sus ataques de pánico y paranoia tenían nombre y apellido: Caroline Wilson.

—¿Caroline Wilson? —farfullé mientras ingería un café bastante caliente.

—Ella misma. Conoció a Thomas en el College y desde entonces vivieron un tórrido romance. La escuché mientras le increpaba a Thomas su falta de agallas, le exigía fervientemente que se divorciara y se separara de mí. Pude verla mientras preparaba un té tranquilamente y le profería palabras de odio y amor a mi marido.

—Pero, entonces, esa era la razón por la cual Thomas la estaba pasando tan mal. Si ella hablaba, no solo se acaba su matrimonio, sino su carrera.

—No nada más eso, Caroline le amenazaba con acusarlo de violación. Quise entrar a la sala y golpearla tan fuerte como pudiera, pero decidí mantener mi compostura. Fue así como logré escuchar los detalles sórdidos de sus encuentros, que para mi tranquilidad, ocurrieron todos en un establo fuera de la ciudad. Ella tomaba una actitud cínica, aunque Thomas le repitiera hasta el hartazgo que su padre nunca permitiría que se casara con un divorciado, ella no escuchaba razones.

—Esta mañana he visto a Ernest Wilson en la comisaria. Según, estaba por allí averiguando por el caso de Thomas, le he visto con una niñata.

—Es probable que haya sido la misma Caroline— Reflexiono Margareth.

—Sin embargo, me temo que aún me quedan muchas más interrogantes Margareth, —intenté matizar mis preguntas, pero siempre me ha ganado la imprudencia— Lo primero que quiero saber es el por qué no le has dicho a la policía sobre este encuentro entre Caroline y Thomas y segundo, ¿por qué has tardado tanto en llamar a emergencias?

—Sencillo, cuando me di cuenta de que Thomas me había engañado, esperé tranquilamente hasta que esa piruja se hubo marchado. Luego le enfrente y aunque sentí lástima por él, decidí marcharme a casa de mi madre, aunque él me rogó que no le dejara, —Margareth comenzó a sollozar amargamente, mientras cubría su rostro con las manos—tal vez si no me hubiera ido él seguiría con nosotros.

—No es tu culpa, al menos eso quiero creer, pero tu manera de proceder estará plagada de dudas si se descubre que la muerte de Thomas no fue un suicidio, sino un asesinato…

—Hay una sola razón por la cual he omitido el encuentro de Thomas con Caroline: no quiero someterme al escarnio público, ni tampoco a Thomas, a pesar de su desliz, —Margareth parecía sincera, aquellos eran años difíciles para ser mujer— por eso te lo he confesado para que me orientes.

—Querida, si esa mujer tuvo algo que ver con la muerte de Thomas, la voy a refundir en la cárcel y cuando eso suceda, no vas a tener que preocuparte por el escarnio público. Pero, debes confiar en mí y hacer cuanto te pido. No voy a salir de este pueblo hasta que se haga justicia.



Another posts that may interest you | Otras de mis publicaciones que quizás te interesen:

Miss Shaughnessy
La vida sin Gerald
Injusticia en El Bósforo

Source of the image on the cover - Fuente de la Imagen en la portada

Translated by me & also using Deepl



Hola, saludos.
Por dios amigo, quede prendida a la historia. espero con ansias que esta esposa no sea la culpable de este asesinato. Ojala Sammy logre descifrar que paso exactamente. Muy buen escrito. saludos.