The Fireplace

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“Are you comfortable, Mr. Roades?” Michael Stevens asked the old man in the wheelchair, who did not respond.

“I certainly hope so, sir,” Stevens said. Stevens was tall and slim, and his butler’s uniform was immaculate. “I hope you are warm enough.”

The old man stared at him.

Stevens shook his head. “It is a chilly night, sir. No doubt about that. But, I’ve always liked this room on cold evenings. That fireplace is something.”

The old man looked at the stone fireplace that took up most of one wall of the room. The fireplace arch was six feet tall and featured a carving of the Roades family crest, a dragon facing to the left. The fire was burning brightly.

“It takes so much wood to keep this one going, doesn’t it? But I think you were wise to never modernize it with gas. This is so much more real, sir, don’t you think?”

The old man tried to speak, but he could not due to the cloth that Stevens had forced into his mouth. Jonathan Roades did not even need a wheelchair, but he was bound to it by ropes at the wrists and ankles.

“Now, I know you can’t speak, Mr. Roades, but you can answer questions with a yes or no - a nod or a head shake. Nod if you understand.”

The old man just glared at Stevens, who smiled back at him, before walking behind the wheelchair.

“Let me show you how this is going to work, sir,” Stevens said, pushing the wheelchair closer to the fireplace. “When you answer me truthfully, I will take no action. But, when you choose not to answer - and of course it is your choice - or when you lie, I will push the chair a little close to the fire. It’s cozy now. But…”

Roades strained against the cloth in his mouth.

“So, do you understand?”

Roades hesitated and Stevens begin to push the wheelchair again. Roades began to frantically nod and Stevens stopped.

“Well done, sir. So, let’s get to it. Now, I have been in your employ for a very long time. My mother - God rest her soul - was your housekeeper until she died. Do you remember her?”

Roades nodded.

“Good. She and I worked for you together for a year or so before her death. Do you know how she died?”

Roades nodded his head.

“Yes, of course you do. She died in a car crash on the way home after one of your dinner parties. Terrible accident. We were always told she had a few drinks with the kitchen staff before leaving and may have been drunk and under the influence of drugs. Is that what you believed?”

Roades nodded.

Stevens walked behind the wheelchair and inched it forward, as Roades struggled in the chair.

“Warm enough, sir? Good. Thing is, that I would have believed that even a month ago. But, sir, I have reason now to believe that there is more to the story. Is there more to the story, sir?”

Roades did not answer. The chair rolled forward.

“You know, my father died when I was in sixth grade. My mother raised me on her own. It was just her and me. I don’t have any siblings. I always regretted that.”

Roades’ brows furrowed, and deep wrinkles cut into his forehead.

“But, she had suitors. My mother was an attractive woman after all, wasn’t she Mr. Roades?”

Roades nodded.

“I was 17 when she died. I was working in your kitchen that night. You didn’t make me butler until after the accident. You said it was to honor my mother and help me out. I thought that was kind of you,” Stevens said. “And, I do remember us all having a drink after the party. You’ve always been kind to the staff in that way.”

Stevens circled back to the front of the wheelchair.

“But, something has always gnawed on my brain about that night. My mother did not have a drink with us. I did not see her drink at all. She turned a blind eye to my drink - I was only 17 as I said. But she refused.”

Roades stared at him.

“Now, I know it’s possible she just did not want to drink in front of her son. But, of course she had done so before. She was no alcoholic, but she was not a tea-totaler either.”

“Did you see her that night after the party, Mr. Roades?”

Roades shook his head.

Stevens circled behind him, and pushed him closer to the fire.

“That was a trick question, sir. And I apologize for that. I know you called her to this very room for a private conversation. One of the other kitchen staff told me when I asked where she had gone.”

Roades’ wheelchair was on the smooth stones at the front of the fireplace. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow.

“Well, that’s all I really knew for years. I was grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to advance. You even gave me sufficient time to grieve. You are an excellent employer, for the most part, sir.”

“But, last month I found something. Do you know what it was?”

Roades slowly shook his head.

“No, of course you don’t. How could you? I still live in the same house I shared with mother. I’ve never married, and it made no sense to move since I am either here or at my house. And, believe me, sir, this house is much nicer. We don’t even have a fireplace,” Stevens said with a chuckle.

“I found some old documents in the attic. A diary - well really more of just a series of notes - and some medical records. I won’t waste our time drawing this out, sir. Were you having an affair with my mother?”

Roades looked down. Stevens walked to the back of the wheelchair, but Roades began to nod before the butler’s hands reached the handles.

“Did your wife know?”

Roades shook his head.

“Were you afraid she would find out?”

Roades nodded.

“And did you know, sir, that after that affair commenced, my mother became pregnant?”

Roades shook his head, and Stevens pushed him closer to the flames.

“Ah. You see, I have seen notes between the two of you. In your hand, sir, I have seen pleadings to ‘take care of the problem,” along with a generous offer to pay for same. Did you pressure my mother to ‘take care of’ her baby - your baby.”

Roades began to weep as sweat soaked through his shirt.

“No response?” Stevens said, inching the wheelchair closer to the flames. Roades’ bare feet were close to crossing the arch.

“You know, when she died, there was no autopsy. I never looked at the police report until recently. Didn’t have any reason to. But you know what it say? It sure enough says she did have alcohol in her bloodstream. But she also had Secobarbitol. Now, sir, I am not naive, I do know that at the time that was a party drug. Do you think she got it from the staff?”

Roades shrugged, his eyes wide, trying to scream that he did not know.

The chair moved forward and Roades’ feet were inches from the flames. The pain began.

“My mother never used illegal drugs. She did not even like to take those her doctors prescribed when she was sick. But you know who used that drug then? This is a free answer. Your wife. She used sleeping pills religiously. It was an open secret with the staff.”

“I managed to get all the medical records from that night. No one seemed too concerned about protecting 30-year old medical records from a deceased woman’s only son. And, of course, they showed she was pregnant. Seems she wouldn’t ‘take care of’ the situation. But you knew that, didn’t you.”

Roades nodded, tears and sweat rolling down his face.

Stevens pulled the chair back a short distance from the fire, just enough so that Roades was not in actual pain.

“Now, sir, I will make you a deal. I will take the cloth out of your mouth if you promise not to scream so you can fully answer the next question. Do we have a deal?”

Roades, breathing heavily, nodded.

“If you do scream, well, sir, I don’t suppose I need to explain what will happen,” Stevens said, as he took the cloth out of Roades’ mouth.

Roades coughed and gasped for air as the cloth fell to the floor.

“Stevens, please, you don’t understand. This is crazy!”

“Keep it down, sir, as agreed. And I am going to give you the chance to explain, alright?”

“I was very fond of your mother. And of you! I tried to look after you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But, I couldn’t let Trisha know. It would have destroyed her,” Roades said.

“Not to mention created a serious problem for you, no doubt.”

“I loved Trisha so much. Your mother was a..”

“Toy, sir?”

“An error. A stupid error.”

Stevens frowned. “I appreciate your candor. So when she refused to ‘take care of’ the baby, you panicked.”

“Yes, yes,” Roades said, grasping on the idea that Stevens at least comprehended the situation. “I made a lot of mistakes with your mother.”

“So, in the end, you had no choice,” Stevens said.

“Yes, you understand,” Roades said. “I promise she didn’t suffer. When the drugs kicked in, she would have simply fallen asleep. Peacefully. How can I make this up to you?”

“You want to give me money, sir?”

“I can. I will. You are owed that.”

“Well, sir. As always, I appreciate your generosity. What do you think will cover the cost of the life of my mother and the sibling I never got to meet?” Stevens asked as he walked back around the wheelchair.

“Wait, you promised that if I was honest you wouldn’t take any action.”

“And you, sir, promised not to scream if I took the cloth out of your mouth,” Stevens said. “We are about to both break our promises.”

And Stevens gave the wheelchair a strong push forward.