Page 33 of Her Last Secret

“I see where this is headed,” he said, spitting the comment out as if it were venom on his tongue.

"Your financial troubles have been quite the topic, haven't they? Your theater isn't doing so well," Rachel pressed on, the weight of their suspicions hanging heavily in the air. "Do you see any connection between your money problems and the deaths of these two women?"

"Connection? No, no connection at all," Hale insisted, but his tone lacked conviction.

"I've heard some rumors...about young actresses and your...preferences," she added, leaving the accusation to simmer between them. “And if there’s any truth to them, then maybe murder isn’t so much further out of the realm of possibilities.”

"You're joking, right?" he said, again sitting rigidly.

“Can you deny the rumors circulating around you, then?” Jack asked.

“This is stupid!” Hale complained. “I didn’t kill anyone! And why in God’s name would the money issues at the theater have anything to do with that?”

“Ticket sales, maybe?” Rachel suggested.

“That’s insulting,” Hale nearly roared. “And also a weak ass theory.”

Rachel watched as Hale's fingers twitched, reaching unconsciously for the comfort of the bottle on the table, a gesture not missed by her trained eye.

"Look, I knew them, sure, but I didn't have anything to do with..." The protest died in his throat, the imploring look in his eyes begging them to believe him.

"Let's focus on the facts, shall we?" Rachel said, her relentless pursuit unyielding. "Mr. Hale, you understand why we're here, don't you? You're currently a suspect in a double murder investigation. And it mainly stems from many rumors that have been circulating about you. So now is the time for you to come clean."

“I’m no suspect!”

“You actually are,” Jack said. “And it’s going to make it a lot easier on everyone—including you—if you address these rumors right now, to us. It’s either that, or we arrest you and take it to a court.”

Vincent Hale's eyes flickered with something akin to panic before he decided to go ahead and reach for the bottle. Rachel nearly recommended that he not do that, but she also knew that loosened tongue might be more susceptible to confession. The bottle trembled in his hand, betraying his cool façade. "I... I've done things I'm not proud of," he began, his voice a mere whisper against the dense silence that enveloped the room. "The theater... it's my life, but money has been tight —"

"Go on," Rachel coaxed, watching his every expression.

"Sometimes," Hale swallowed hard, "sometimes you have to make tough choices. There were these actresses..." His gaze drifted away, unwilling or unable to meet hers.

“What about them?”

“Things…things happened and I had to pay for their silence.”

Rachel suddenly felt herself on edge, not sure what information might come next. “Silence for what?” she asked.

"In one case, it was blackmail. Pure and simple. And I will go to my grave pleading it." His voice was stern, but it also sounded as if it might break apart at any moment, dissolved by emotion. "I slept with her twice. She came to me for the second occurrence and after that, she threatened to tell everyone I'd raped her. And I think she did it because of an incident a year before that."

“What incident?” Rachel asked.

“An actress and I had too much to drink. She was asking for the lead role, thinking I could get it for her somehow. I didn’t argue it and I took advantage of her. She told me the next day that she was going to the cops, tell them she was raped. And I knew…I knew that with so much booze and a very unsafe and unprotected romp…it didn’t look good for me. So she asked for money for her silence. And I did it. I gave it to her. I didn’t have a choice.”

“And I suppose that’s why the theater is having financial problems?” Rachel asked.

“The biggest reason, yes. There are other factors, but those two payments are the big ones.”

Rachel realized they had enough to arrest him on those charges, even though they might get tossed out. But the bigger questions remained.

“I have to go back to the original question, Mr. Hale. We need to know where you were on the nights of these murders.”

The room grew heavy with the unspoken challenge, the game of cat and mouse intensifying as Rachel made a mental note to verify every alibi Hale had provided. This was far from over, and she could feel the pieces of the puzzle begging to click together. Yet, at the same time, she took into consideration Hale’s inebriation and noticed his posture. They needed to tread carefully.

“No. I refuse. This is insane.”

“Mr. Hale,” Jack started. “If you—”

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