My "Who-Done-It" Theory. Very long...
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2005 8:02 am
I wrote this, beginning at 2:00 this morning, when I awoke from a disturbing nightmare about Lizzie. According to my sleep-deprived brain, I guess this is my official “Who-Done-It” theory.
–EVERY FAMILY HAS SECRETS--
Lizzie and Emma hired someone to kill their stepmother because there has been huge amounts of tension and hatred in the house, due to Emma & Lizzie’s uneasiness about money and the will. They know their father is getting older. They know someday they will have to face his demise. Perhaps, since Andrew was 70 and knew it had to be done sooner than later, he mentioned that he will be making his will soon. This causes major problems in the household. It is a civil war. Money makes people say and do crazy things. Perhaps, if Andrew was an especially evil man, he threatened the girls with his will. Perhaps the ominous will was like another member of the family that Andrew used to his advantage. Perhaps he used it to make the girl toe the line. Perhaps he used it to make them wish he was a father who wouldn’t do such things...
The girls have never been on good terms with Abby. They resent her and make her life hell, and in turn Abby resents them and knows the one way she has the upper hand: Andrew. She plays that card a lot. It is a HUGE competition between the girls and Abby. Sometimes Abby wins...sometimes the girls win. Sometimes neither of them win and then they all hate Andrew for not choosing a side. The poor guy is getting yanked in every imaginable way possible. It is a never ending battle and it is getting tiresome and annoying. Abby was very proud of herself when she won the battle about the house for her sister. The girls did not swallow their defeat. They retaliated and Andrew gave in by giving them money for another house. WAR IS HELL. It was a truce for a while, but not for long. Each woman watched their back, knowing that you cannot trust the enemy even if a white flag is waived in the air.
They don’t call Abby mother. They’re civil to their father because they have to be. He provides for them. He is their source for food, shelter, & clothing...and in their minds not much else. The family doesn’t eat together. They don’t “hang out” together. The tension in the air of that house could be sliced with a knife. It’s been on a downward spiral for years and keeps getting worse and worse with no relief in sight...
The girls resent their father for not always siding with them. For not always getting the things they want. They resent him because he is in control of a lot of money, and they don’t see eye to eye with him on ways to spend it, or in Andrew’s case, ways of NOT spending it. They blame him for bringing Abby into the household, and in their minds, bringing a lot of misery to their lives. Perhaps, for reasons that I will never know, there were circumstances in that household which prevented Emma & Lizzie from ever having real friends. From ever having the chance to marry and have families. Perhaps, in their minds, their lives were wasted on a “miserly old fart and a fat, old witch.” They are sick and tired of their dull lives; of being envious of others when they know they can have just as much or more. They believe that their lives can still be redeemed. That maybe, just maybe, if they had their father’s money, they could have friends, they could still find husbands and have children. They dream. They wish. They hope. But every morning, they wake up in the same drab house, doing nothing all day long, having no prospects, and living in a house with two people they’ve grown to despise.
But as long as Andrew & Abby are alive, nothing will ever change. Emma & Lizzie believe they are entitled to things that they want mainly because in their minds they believe they have “put up with a lot over the years.” If Andrew does die soon, and if Abby get a majority of the money, then in Emma & Lizzie’s minds, the enemy will have won. They’ll be damned if it happens...Their lives will be just as bad or worse if that happens. THAT CAN NOT HAPPEN. Lots of late-night talks in their sitting room. The two sisters share lots of whispers in the night. Secrets that Andrew, Abby, and Bridget can’t hear...
–THE PLAN OF THE CENTURY--
Finally, something had to be done. They were losing the battle. Abby was winning. They knew it and she knew it. Andrew was going to have a new will made out soon. The daughters had pissed him off to the point where he could care less about what happened to them after he died. They were ungrateful in his opinion, and they would settle for what little he gave them. He warned them. They shut up. But still, the whispers in the night continued...
The drawing of the will loomed closer. Their far-fetched plan began to grow and breathe. It became a living thing. They nurtured it. It grew stronger and stronger everyday. Then, on one not so very special day, it become a reality...with the help of one Uncle John Morse.
This is my strong belief: Emma & Lizzie couldn’t kill. But, they could definitely hire it to be done. They do, after all, have money. Money their father gave them for a house; plus allowance money they’ve been saving for years. But, they can’t hire anyone in Fall River. They don’t have connections. They don’t know who to ask. They don’t know the places to look. But, Emma especially, knows someone who could help. Someone she corresponds with more than she admitted to in court. Someone who she relays the household problems to. Someone who has known for years the turmoil that goes on in the house on 92nd street. Someone, who for years, has heard a one-sided sob story from a woman named Emma Lenora Borden. Someone who would more than likely have to support the girls if they didn’t get their “rightful” inheritance from their father. And because of that information, and because they were his late-sister’s daughters, that someone, John Morse, was willing to assist in their far-fetched plan. John Morse knew all kinds of people from all walks of life. He had been around. John Morse said, “Yes. I will help you.”
Lizzie was brave enough to be at the house when it happened. Emma was not. She left town. Thank goodness for her gutsy sister Lizzie. Emma, who was like a mother to Lizzie, felt protected by her little sister. Her little sister had nerves of steel. Emma had never known anyone like Lizzie in her entire life. Lizzie would take care of everything. Emma wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. She helped plan the deed, and Lizzie would help finish it.
They didn’t have time to spare. Andrew would be going to a lawyer soon. Uncle Morse needed time to find the right person to get the job done. “Give me a few days, and I will give you your future,” wrote Uncle Morse in a letter.
“How? How do we delay it?” asked Emma in a letter that was quickly burned after being read.
Uncle John replied to his niece Emma in a letter, which was quickly burned, that prussic acid would be a good tool to make Andrew & Abby sick. Sick enough so they can’t leave the house for a few days. Sick enough so a trip to the lawyer wouldn’t be possible. Sick enough to make a very important piece of paper, the will, wait.
It was a great idea, all in all. But Lizzie would soon find out it was easier said than done...
–ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS--
Emma wouldn’t be sick, because she wouldn’t be there. Lizzie wouldn’t be sick, but she would pretend to be. Part of the plan was to subtly inform some neighbors and friends that Andrew possibly had an enemy. Lizzie was good at lying to your face. She could say those words without blinking an eye, and make someone believe it. She told Alice Russell that father had an enemy; perhaps someone who would even go so far as to poison the household.
Lizzie is good at acting. You might say she had a passion for it. She could play sick just as easily as she would later play innocent in court. She was a natural...
The plan was becoming a reality. The date was set. Steps of “pre-murder” were taking shape. Andrew, Abby, and yes even poor Bridget, were throwing up. They were violently ill. Lizzie sat up in her room and smiled. Emma sat in a house far away and hoped that Lizzie wouldn’t let her down.
The drawing of the will was delayed. Uncle John and a mysterious “friend” were on their way to Fall River. Things can get accomplished pretty quickly when you put your mind to it...and when you have enough money to keep someone quiet for the rest of their lives.
The day was drawing near. Uncle Morse arrived. The mysterious “friend” stayed the night in a motel, but not before being shown the Borden residence right before John made his unannounced visit; not before going over the plan; a plan they had gone over a hundred times in the days before...
Lizzie was at a friend’s house, indicating her father had an enemy. By the time she came home, she knew Uncle Morse was to be there. He better be anyway.
He was there. She climbed the stairs and didn’t acknowledge him. Best not to say a word. The maid might say “They talked to each other. They looked like they were planning something.” It would be best to avoid contact with each other at all costs.
“So sorry to hear you’re feeling ill,” Morse would say in a bellowing voice as he sat in the parlor with Andrew & Abby as they chatted.
Lizzie heard these words upstairs in her bedroom. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life.
–LIZZIE: CENTER STAGE--
The next morning Andrew is feeling better than Abby is. Well enough to go out about town. Lizzie knew this would be the case. If Andrew Borden is able to see to his business, he will. Sick or not. He goes out that morning. According to plan...
John Morse eats breakfast with the Bordens. Lizzie is avoiding him as planned. John leaves. He meets his “mysterious friend” at the time and place they agreed upon.
Lizzie gets ready and comes downstairs. She mentions to Bridget that there is a sale at a store. She offers to give her money to go to it. Bridget doesn’t seem particularly interested. Now the back-up plan will have to suffice. Bridget runs outside to vomit. While Bridget is out of the room, Lizzie mentions to Abby that the front windows need cleaned and to make sure that Bridget cleans them. Especially now since Uncle John is here. It’s atrocious to have dirty windows when a guest is in the home. Abby agrees. Bridget returns to the room. Abby orders Bridget to clean the windows. Plan still going good, even if the back-up option had to be applied.
Bridget is leaving the house and going outside to prepare for her window washing.
Lizzie went upstairs to get a very important envelope. She returned back downstairs to find Abby dusting the dining room. Being especially nice for some reason, Lizzie tells Abby to go back upstairs and rest. She will tidy up the house and clean the guest bedroom. Abby, surprised by this unusual act of kindness, agrees. She is not feeling well. It will be nice to rest. She ascends the stairs.
John Morse and mysterious friend are watching and waiting nearby. They watch as Bridget is getting things ready to wash windows. They wait for Lizzie to go to the back door and give the signal. Lizzie hollers at Bridget to make sure she is washing the windows. Bridget says “yes.”
All is clear. John Morse tells mysterious friend to go to the back door where Lizzie will be waiting in the kitchen. John sees that he enters the house. All is going according to plan. He leaves, right on time to match his planned itinerary for the day.
Lizzie and Uncle John’s mysterious friend must act quick. The mysterious friend shows Lizzie the note he wrote. The note states that a friend is sick and would Abby please tend to her immediately. He needs to leave immediately before Bridget or Abby see him. Lizzie wants to confirm that everything is going to happen according to plan; that Abby will leave the house immediately to see her sick friend. That she will be attacked on her way there.
He says to Lizzie, “I’ll be waiting. When she walks by I will grab her and kill her. I will make it look like a robbery gone wrong.”
Lizzie says “good” as she reaches for her envelope, which is full of money.
–A SIMPLE PLAN GONE WRONG--
BUT WAIT! They hear Abby coming down the stairs. Lizzie tells him to shoo! Instead of escaping out the back door where he entered, he makes an exit through the sitting room, and is going to run out the front door. He intended on leaving and not coming back. The plan was over and done with as far as he was concerned. BUT THERE’S BRIDGET OUTSIDE THE WINDOW! “Jesus Christ,” he says to himself as he runs up the front stairs. He dodges into Lizzie's bedroom. He looks down at his hand. He still has the note. Lizzie still has the money. He doesn't think Bridget saw him. The plan is still on...
Abby comes down the stairs and notices that Lizzie is acting strange. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Lizzie nods. Abby continues, “Well, I can’t seem to rest. I think I’ll tidy up down here and freshen up the guest room.”
Lizzie wonders where the nameless man is hiding. This is not good. She must find him. She watches as Abby leaves through the sitting room, through the entry way, and toward the front stair case. She follows her. She takes a quick look to see if Bridget is still washing windows. She is.
Upstairs, Lizzie quickly glances around to find the would-be killer. She stands in the landing area. She doesn’t see him. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest. She is shaking. Without thinking she hollers “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Abby, who is in the guest bedroom says, “Hush, Lizzie, I’m right here.”
Lizzie looks around for the man once more before she enters the guest bedroom. “Uh, I’ll help youl," Lizzie proclaims to her step-mother.
Abby stands there with a blank look on her face, looking past Lizzie’s shoulders. “Who are you,” Abby asks the strange man wearing one of Lizzie’s dresses.
Lizzie turns around and steps out of the way as the man enters the room. He is holding a small hatchet in his hand. He approaches Abby. Confused, she looks at Lizzie, looks back at the strange man wearing a red dress, and again asks in a voice burdened with bewilderment, “Who are you?
He keeps walking toward her. He raises the hatchet to strike her. She turns to run, but not before he grabs her by the shoulders, spins her around and hits her in the face with the butt end of his hatchet. He grabs a hold of her braid. It rips off in his hands. He pushes Abby to the floor and begins to frantically hit her in the back of her head. The hatchet is small. It feels awkward in his hands. He doesn’t know how hard to hit. He hits until he’s sure he caused enough damage to end her life. “A larger one would have been more sufficient,” he would later think to himself after it was all said and done.
Lizzie stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom watching her step-mother get hacked to death. Each whack surprisingly sounded quite reassuring. Each whack sounded final. She liked that. She at first covered her mouth with her hand, aghast, but she slowly lowered her hands to her sides and watched with amusing interest, her mouth slightly agape, still in disbelief that her eyes were witnessing such an event. Just as quick as it begun, it was over with.
Lizzie reaches for her envelope. “Here’s your money,” she screamed as she held it out for him.
He lifted his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”
He stood there looking at Lizzie. She seemed very satisfied with herself. She realized she was grasping the envelope of money tightly in her hands. She relaxed her grasp and held out the envelope to him in such a way that if he took it, the woman laying on the floor would be even more dead once the exchange took place.
“This is not according to plan,” he reminded Lizzie. Her eyes turned dark. She glared at him. He was right. This was not according to plan at all.
“Why are you wearing my dress,” Lizzie asked as she lowered the envelope away from his reach...
Abby was supposed to be murdered on her way to visit a sick friend. It was supposed to be outdoors, near a wooded area. Not inside their home. She was supposed to be missing. She was supposed to be rotten and decayed by the time she was found. Instead, there she lay upon the floral carpet in the guest bedroom in a puddle of blood and in a strange position that caught Lizzie off-guard. The position of Abby made Lizzie giggle softly to herself.
Lizzie ran downstairs to check if Bridget was still busy washing windows. She was. Lizzie ran back upstairs and told the man that they both must drag the body out of the house. The mysterious man looked at Lizzie like she was a lunatic. Lizzie said “We must hide her in the spot where she was originally going to get killed.”
“That isn’t going to happen, lady” he told her plainly.
Lizzie began to get nervous. She knew that Bridget would be getting done with her work soon. She knew that her father would be coming home soon. How would she explain a dead step-mother?
Lizzie blurted out, “Father will have to be killed too. He will know that Emma & I planned this. He will report this to the police. He won’t care why. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM TOO.”
The man told Lizzie that it will cost more money. She didn’t miss a beat; she gritted her teeth and told him “I don’t care.”
The man asked when do you expect your father home. “What is the time,” she asked the man. 10 o’clock he said as he looked at his clock.
“Soon. Very soon,” was her reply.
“I want you to hide in the barn. I will try to get Bridget out of the house. You will come in and kill father.”
Carefully, Lizzie and the man went down the staircase. Lizzie checked to see if Bridget was busy washing windows. She was, but she was almost done.
They carefully walked through the house, and ran out the back door toward the barn. Inside they made a plan.
–COME WHAT MAY--
Lizzie returned to the house at approximately 10:20. She went upstairs to her room, but not before stopping by the guest room and staring at Abby. Mrs. Borden hadn’t moved. She was still in that funny position. Lizzie giggled softly to herself again. Very soon after that, she heard Bridget come into the house. Lizzie figured it to be about 10:30 and knew her father would be coming home soon. She sat in her bedroom on her bed and for the first time that day, thought of Emma.
“Emma will be very disappointed in this situation,” Lizzie thought to herself as she counted out more money and placed it into an envelope. The envelope was thick with the folded bills.
Lizzie jumped when she heard the knock at the front door. She got up and stood in her doorway, leaning against the woodwork. She listened as Bridget fumbled at the door trying to unlock it to let Andrew in. Lizzie held the thick envelope full of money in her hand. She looked down at the envelope as her father entered the house. A funny thought entered her brain. Her father was always saying, “One must spend money to make money.” Lizzie thought this quite humourous, considering the circumstances. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought. But when her laugh faded, she stood in the doorway for five minutes, frozen. She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t even blink. Her laugh kept echoing in her mind, and it reverberated back and forth against her skull until it was unrecognizable.
She descended the stairs and took a deep breath. She entered the sitting room where Bridget was washing an inside window.
She then went into the dining room, and said hello to her father. “How are you feeling,” she asked him. “Agreeable,” was his response.
“Where is Mrs. Borden,” asked Andrew.
“Um, she received a note in regards to a sick friend and has gone out to visit them.”
Andrew didn’t say anything. He nodded his head, exited the dining room, and made way for his bedroom.
A few minutes later, Andrew returned to the sitting room and sat down upon the sofa. Bridget decided to let him rest and move her work into the dining room.
Bridget entered the dining room and was setting up to begin washing windows. Lizzie decided to get out the ironing board and iron some things. She must do her ordinary chores and remain as normal as possible in front of Bridget.
As Bridget was washing a window, Lizzie nonchalantly asked her if she would be going out this afternoon. Bridget said, “I would rather take a nap than browse the stores”
Lizzie frowned.
Bridget picked up her bucket and went to kitchen to throw out her water. Lizzie trailed behind her. She had already mentioned it to Bridget earlier, but thought it couldn’t hurt to ask again. “There is a dress good sale today. I will give you some money, and if you would like to take the afternoon off to attend the sale, you’re more than welcome.”
“Oh thank you, Lizzie. But, I do believe I will take a nap. I’m feeling very light-headed and ill in my stomach.” Bridget truly was grateful for the offer, and would have taken Lizzie up on it any other day.
“Lizzie is such a kind soul sometimes,” Bridget thought to herself as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
–DOING WHAT MUST BE DONE--
The very second Bridget was out of sight, Lizzie went to the sitting room and approached her father. She asked if he was comfortable. If there was anything she could do for him. He said that he wished to be left alone so that he may nap. Lizzie left the room.
Out in the barn, she gave the mysterious man the thick envelope. He had been waiting patiently for Lizzie and had made up his mind that if she didn’t return within five minutes, he was going to leave. He had eaten the three pears Lizzie had given him and he was still hungry; and thirsty to boot. It was too damn hot in the barn and he wanted to get out of Fall River as soon as possible. He had taken off the dress and wadded it up in to a ball. “ It was too hot to wear a dress today,” he chuckled to himself.
“Let that strange gal deal with the dead lady upstairs on her own,” he thought smugly.
Lizzie walked in as he was chuckling. For a strange man she had never met before in her life, she felt like they were old friends. She was oddly comfortable in his presence. Not once did she feel scared or threatened by him. She wasn’t even worried that he would leave the barn in his wait for her to return. She knew he would be standing in the exact spot she left him in. The money in her envelope was power. She knew that and she liked that.
She immediately said, “Maggie is upstairs sleeping. Father is napping on the sofa in the sitting room. You must go in there and do what you have to do right this very second.” She handed him the envelope. He graciously took it, placed it in his pocket, and nodded. He grabbed for the dress and put it back on. As he left the barn, she felt the urge to yell out to him “Be as quiet as possible in the house.” But she didn’t. She knew she didn’t need to.
Lizzie trusted him to do what he needed to do. She had never trusted anyone more in her entire life than that strange man.
–A STRANGE THANK YOU--
Lizzie watched for the man as she stood by the pear tree. In all, she waited two minutes for the man to hurry out of the house and then nonchalantly walk down the sidewalk. He whistled a song as Lizzie watched him walk away. She watched until he disappeared and she could no longer see him.
She slowly left the barn, walked toward the house, and entered the kitchen. She walked straight ahead and entered the sitting room. Her father was lying in the exact same position she had left him in. He looked peaceful and serene, despite the deformed face and bloody mess. Lizzie could look past that. Lizzie sat down next to her father for about a minute and held his hand. She whispered out loud to no one in particular, “Ah...he’s an angel.”
She returned Andrew’s hand back onto his lap and bent down to pick up the red dress the man had thrown onto the floor. She very quietly walked up to her bedroom and took off her dress and wrapped the bloody one inside of it. She hung it up at the back of her closet. She decided to wear something pretty for the afternoon. Lizzie reached for a blue silk dress, one that she liked to wear for special occasions.
Lizzie returned to the first floor. She entered the kitchen and stood at base of the stairs. She wanted to scream loud enough so that the mysterious man whose name she didn’t know could hear her as he walked down the street, blocks away. This would be her personal thank you to the man who changed her life forever.
She slapped each cheek three times as severely as she could. She then grabbed a hold of a small roll of fat on her stomach and pinched as hard as she could possibly muster; her fingers digging into her flesh and drawing blood. While she was still pinching herself, she screamed to Bridget at the top of her lungs.
“Maaaaaaggie!!! Come down so quick! Father is dead....”
–EVERY FAMILY HAS SECRETS--
Lizzie and Emma hired someone to kill their stepmother because there has been huge amounts of tension and hatred in the house, due to Emma & Lizzie’s uneasiness about money and the will. They know their father is getting older. They know someday they will have to face his demise. Perhaps, since Andrew was 70 and knew it had to be done sooner than later, he mentioned that he will be making his will soon. This causes major problems in the household. It is a civil war. Money makes people say and do crazy things. Perhaps, if Andrew was an especially evil man, he threatened the girls with his will. Perhaps the ominous will was like another member of the family that Andrew used to his advantage. Perhaps he used it to make the girl toe the line. Perhaps he used it to make them wish he was a father who wouldn’t do such things...
The girls have never been on good terms with Abby. They resent her and make her life hell, and in turn Abby resents them and knows the one way she has the upper hand: Andrew. She plays that card a lot. It is a HUGE competition between the girls and Abby. Sometimes Abby wins...sometimes the girls win. Sometimes neither of them win and then they all hate Andrew for not choosing a side. The poor guy is getting yanked in every imaginable way possible. It is a never ending battle and it is getting tiresome and annoying. Abby was very proud of herself when she won the battle about the house for her sister. The girls did not swallow their defeat. They retaliated and Andrew gave in by giving them money for another house. WAR IS HELL. It was a truce for a while, but not for long. Each woman watched their back, knowing that you cannot trust the enemy even if a white flag is waived in the air.
They don’t call Abby mother. They’re civil to their father because they have to be. He provides for them. He is their source for food, shelter, & clothing...and in their minds not much else. The family doesn’t eat together. They don’t “hang out” together. The tension in the air of that house could be sliced with a knife. It’s been on a downward spiral for years and keeps getting worse and worse with no relief in sight...
The girls resent their father for not always siding with them. For not always getting the things they want. They resent him because he is in control of a lot of money, and they don’t see eye to eye with him on ways to spend it, or in Andrew’s case, ways of NOT spending it. They blame him for bringing Abby into the household, and in their minds, bringing a lot of misery to their lives. Perhaps, for reasons that I will never know, there were circumstances in that household which prevented Emma & Lizzie from ever having real friends. From ever having the chance to marry and have families. Perhaps, in their minds, their lives were wasted on a “miserly old fart and a fat, old witch.” They are sick and tired of their dull lives; of being envious of others when they know they can have just as much or more. They believe that their lives can still be redeemed. That maybe, just maybe, if they had their father’s money, they could have friends, they could still find husbands and have children. They dream. They wish. They hope. But every morning, they wake up in the same drab house, doing nothing all day long, having no prospects, and living in a house with two people they’ve grown to despise.
But as long as Andrew & Abby are alive, nothing will ever change. Emma & Lizzie believe they are entitled to things that they want mainly because in their minds they believe they have “put up with a lot over the years.” If Andrew does die soon, and if Abby get a majority of the money, then in Emma & Lizzie’s minds, the enemy will have won. They’ll be damned if it happens...Their lives will be just as bad or worse if that happens. THAT CAN NOT HAPPEN. Lots of late-night talks in their sitting room. The two sisters share lots of whispers in the night. Secrets that Andrew, Abby, and Bridget can’t hear...
–THE PLAN OF THE CENTURY--
Finally, something had to be done. They were losing the battle. Abby was winning. They knew it and she knew it. Andrew was going to have a new will made out soon. The daughters had pissed him off to the point where he could care less about what happened to them after he died. They were ungrateful in his opinion, and they would settle for what little he gave them. He warned them. They shut up. But still, the whispers in the night continued...
The drawing of the will loomed closer. Their far-fetched plan began to grow and breathe. It became a living thing. They nurtured it. It grew stronger and stronger everyday. Then, on one not so very special day, it become a reality...with the help of one Uncle John Morse.
This is my strong belief: Emma & Lizzie couldn’t kill. But, they could definitely hire it to be done. They do, after all, have money. Money their father gave them for a house; plus allowance money they’ve been saving for years. But, they can’t hire anyone in Fall River. They don’t have connections. They don’t know who to ask. They don’t know the places to look. But, Emma especially, knows someone who could help. Someone she corresponds with more than she admitted to in court. Someone who she relays the household problems to. Someone who has known for years the turmoil that goes on in the house on 92nd street. Someone, who for years, has heard a one-sided sob story from a woman named Emma Lenora Borden. Someone who would more than likely have to support the girls if they didn’t get their “rightful” inheritance from their father. And because of that information, and because they were his late-sister’s daughters, that someone, John Morse, was willing to assist in their far-fetched plan. John Morse knew all kinds of people from all walks of life. He had been around. John Morse said, “Yes. I will help you.”
Lizzie was brave enough to be at the house when it happened. Emma was not. She left town. Thank goodness for her gutsy sister Lizzie. Emma, who was like a mother to Lizzie, felt protected by her little sister. Her little sister had nerves of steel. Emma had never known anyone like Lizzie in her entire life. Lizzie would take care of everything. Emma wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. She helped plan the deed, and Lizzie would help finish it.
They didn’t have time to spare. Andrew would be going to a lawyer soon. Uncle Morse needed time to find the right person to get the job done. “Give me a few days, and I will give you your future,” wrote Uncle Morse in a letter.
“How? How do we delay it?” asked Emma in a letter that was quickly burned after being read.
Uncle John replied to his niece Emma in a letter, which was quickly burned, that prussic acid would be a good tool to make Andrew & Abby sick. Sick enough so they can’t leave the house for a few days. Sick enough so a trip to the lawyer wouldn’t be possible. Sick enough to make a very important piece of paper, the will, wait.
It was a great idea, all in all. But Lizzie would soon find out it was easier said than done...
–ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS--
Emma wouldn’t be sick, because she wouldn’t be there. Lizzie wouldn’t be sick, but she would pretend to be. Part of the plan was to subtly inform some neighbors and friends that Andrew possibly had an enemy. Lizzie was good at lying to your face. She could say those words without blinking an eye, and make someone believe it. She told Alice Russell that father had an enemy; perhaps someone who would even go so far as to poison the household.
Lizzie is good at acting. You might say she had a passion for it. She could play sick just as easily as she would later play innocent in court. She was a natural...
The plan was becoming a reality. The date was set. Steps of “pre-murder” were taking shape. Andrew, Abby, and yes even poor Bridget, were throwing up. They were violently ill. Lizzie sat up in her room and smiled. Emma sat in a house far away and hoped that Lizzie wouldn’t let her down.
The drawing of the will was delayed. Uncle John and a mysterious “friend” were on their way to Fall River. Things can get accomplished pretty quickly when you put your mind to it...and when you have enough money to keep someone quiet for the rest of their lives.
The day was drawing near. Uncle Morse arrived. The mysterious “friend” stayed the night in a motel, but not before being shown the Borden residence right before John made his unannounced visit; not before going over the plan; a plan they had gone over a hundred times in the days before...
Lizzie was at a friend’s house, indicating her father had an enemy. By the time she came home, she knew Uncle Morse was to be there. He better be anyway.
He was there. She climbed the stairs and didn’t acknowledge him. Best not to say a word. The maid might say “They talked to each other. They looked like they were planning something.” It would be best to avoid contact with each other at all costs.
“So sorry to hear you’re feeling ill,” Morse would say in a bellowing voice as he sat in the parlor with Andrew & Abby as they chatted.
Lizzie heard these words upstairs in her bedroom. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life.
–LIZZIE: CENTER STAGE--
The next morning Andrew is feeling better than Abby is. Well enough to go out about town. Lizzie knew this would be the case. If Andrew Borden is able to see to his business, he will. Sick or not. He goes out that morning. According to plan...
John Morse eats breakfast with the Bordens. Lizzie is avoiding him as planned. John leaves. He meets his “mysterious friend” at the time and place they agreed upon.
Lizzie gets ready and comes downstairs. She mentions to Bridget that there is a sale at a store. She offers to give her money to go to it. Bridget doesn’t seem particularly interested. Now the back-up plan will have to suffice. Bridget runs outside to vomit. While Bridget is out of the room, Lizzie mentions to Abby that the front windows need cleaned and to make sure that Bridget cleans them. Especially now since Uncle John is here. It’s atrocious to have dirty windows when a guest is in the home. Abby agrees. Bridget returns to the room. Abby orders Bridget to clean the windows. Plan still going good, even if the back-up option had to be applied.
Bridget is leaving the house and going outside to prepare for her window washing.
Lizzie went upstairs to get a very important envelope. She returned back downstairs to find Abby dusting the dining room. Being especially nice for some reason, Lizzie tells Abby to go back upstairs and rest. She will tidy up the house and clean the guest bedroom. Abby, surprised by this unusual act of kindness, agrees. She is not feeling well. It will be nice to rest. She ascends the stairs.
John Morse and mysterious friend are watching and waiting nearby. They watch as Bridget is getting things ready to wash windows. They wait for Lizzie to go to the back door and give the signal. Lizzie hollers at Bridget to make sure she is washing the windows. Bridget says “yes.”
All is clear. John Morse tells mysterious friend to go to the back door where Lizzie will be waiting in the kitchen. John sees that he enters the house. All is going according to plan. He leaves, right on time to match his planned itinerary for the day.
Lizzie and Uncle John’s mysterious friend must act quick. The mysterious friend shows Lizzie the note he wrote. The note states that a friend is sick and would Abby please tend to her immediately. He needs to leave immediately before Bridget or Abby see him. Lizzie wants to confirm that everything is going to happen according to plan; that Abby will leave the house immediately to see her sick friend. That she will be attacked on her way there.
He says to Lizzie, “I’ll be waiting. When she walks by I will grab her and kill her. I will make it look like a robbery gone wrong.”
Lizzie says “good” as she reaches for her envelope, which is full of money.
–A SIMPLE PLAN GONE WRONG--
BUT WAIT! They hear Abby coming down the stairs. Lizzie tells him to shoo! Instead of escaping out the back door where he entered, he makes an exit through the sitting room, and is going to run out the front door. He intended on leaving and not coming back. The plan was over and done with as far as he was concerned. BUT THERE’S BRIDGET OUTSIDE THE WINDOW! “Jesus Christ,” he says to himself as he runs up the front stairs. He dodges into Lizzie's bedroom. He looks down at his hand. He still has the note. Lizzie still has the money. He doesn't think Bridget saw him. The plan is still on...
Abby comes down the stairs and notices that Lizzie is acting strange. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Lizzie nods. Abby continues, “Well, I can’t seem to rest. I think I’ll tidy up down here and freshen up the guest room.”
Lizzie wonders where the nameless man is hiding. This is not good. She must find him. She watches as Abby leaves through the sitting room, through the entry way, and toward the front stair case. She follows her. She takes a quick look to see if Bridget is still washing windows. She is.
Upstairs, Lizzie quickly glances around to find the would-be killer. She stands in the landing area. She doesn’t see him. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest. She is shaking. Without thinking she hollers “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Abby, who is in the guest bedroom says, “Hush, Lizzie, I’m right here.”
Lizzie looks around for the man once more before she enters the guest bedroom. “Uh, I’ll help youl," Lizzie proclaims to her step-mother.
Abby stands there with a blank look on her face, looking past Lizzie’s shoulders. “Who are you,” Abby asks the strange man wearing one of Lizzie’s dresses.
Lizzie turns around and steps out of the way as the man enters the room. He is holding a small hatchet in his hand. He approaches Abby. Confused, she looks at Lizzie, looks back at the strange man wearing a red dress, and again asks in a voice burdened with bewilderment, “Who are you?
He keeps walking toward her. He raises the hatchet to strike her. She turns to run, but not before he grabs her by the shoulders, spins her around and hits her in the face with the butt end of his hatchet. He grabs a hold of her braid. It rips off in his hands. He pushes Abby to the floor and begins to frantically hit her in the back of her head. The hatchet is small. It feels awkward in his hands. He doesn’t know how hard to hit. He hits until he’s sure he caused enough damage to end her life. “A larger one would have been more sufficient,” he would later think to himself after it was all said and done.
Lizzie stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom watching her step-mother get hacked to death. Each whack surprisingly sounded quite reassuring. Each whack sounded final. She liked that. She at first covered her mouth with her hand, aghast, but she slowly lowered her hands to her sides and watched with amusing interest, her mouth slightly agape, still in disbelief that her eyes were witnessing such an event. Just as quick as it begun, it was over with.
Lizzie reaches for her envelope. “Here’s your money,” she screamed as she held it out for him.
He lifted his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”
He stood there looking at Lizzie. She seemed very satisfied with herself. She realized she was grasping the envelope of money tightly in her hands. She relaxed her grasp and held out the envelope to him in such a way that if he took it, the woman laying on the floor would be even more dead once the exchange took place.
“This is not according to plan,” he reminded Lizzie. Her eyes turned dark. She glared at him. He was right. This was not according to plan at all.
“Why are you wearing my dress,” Lizzie asked as she lowered the envelope away from his reach...
Abby was supposed to be murdered on her way to visit a sick friend. It was supposed to be outdoors, near a wooded area. Not inside their home. She was supposed to be missing. She was supposed to be rotten and decayed by the time she was found. Instead, there she lay upon the floral carpet in the guest bedroom in a puddle of blood and in a strange position that caught Lizzie off-guard. The position of Abby made Lizzie giggle softly to herself.
Lizzie ran downstairs to check if Bridget was still busy washing windows. She was. Lizzie ran back upstairs and told the man that they both must drag the body out of the house. The mysterious man looked at Lizzie like she was a lunatic. Lizzie said “We must hide her in the spot where she was originally going to get killed.”
“That isn’t going to happen, lady” he told her plainly.
Lizzie began to get nervous. She knew that Bridget would be getting done with her work soon. She knew that her father would be coming home soon. How would she explain a dead step-mother?
Lizzie blurted out, “Father will have to be killed too. He will know that Emma & I planned this. He will report this to the police. He won’t care why. YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM TOO.”
The man told Lizzie that it will cost more money. She didn’t miss a beat; she gritted her teeth and told him “I don’t care.”
The man asked when do you expect your father home. “What is the time,” she asked the man. 10 o’clock he said as he looked at his clock.
“Soon. Very soon,” was her reply.
“I want you to hide in the barn. I will try to get Bridget out of the house. You will come in and kill father.”
Carefully, Lizzie and the man went down the staircase. Lizzie checked to see if Bridget was busy washing windows. She was, but she was almost done.
They carefully walked through the house, and ran out the back door toward the barn. Inside they made a plan.
–COME WHAT MAY--
Lizzie returned to the house at approximately 10:20. She went upstairs to her room, but not before stopping by the guest room and staring at Abby. Mrs. Borden hadn’t moved. She was still in that funny position. Lizzie giggled softly to herself again. Very soon after that, she heard Bridget come into the house. Lizzie figured it to be about 10:30 and knew her father would be coming home soon. She sat in her bedroom on her bed and for the first time that day, thought of Emma.
“Emma will be very disappointed in this situation,” Lizzie thought to herself as she counted out more money and placed it into an envelope. The envelope was thick with the folded bills.
Lizzie jumped when she heard the knock at the front door. She got up and stood in her doorway, leaning against the woodwork. She listened as Bridget fumbled at the door trying to unlock it to let Andrew in. Lizzie held the thick envelope full of money in her hand. She looked down at the envelope as her father entered the house. A funny thought entered her brain. Her father was always saying, “One must spend money to make money.” Lizzie thought this quite humourous, considering the circumstances. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought. But when her laugh faded, she stood in the doorway for five minutes, frozen. She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t even blink. Her laugh kept echoing in her mind, and it reverberated back and forth against her skull until it was unrecognizable.
She descended the stairs and took a deep breath. She entered the sitting room where Bridget was washing an inside window.
She then went into the dining room, and said hello to her father. “How are you feeling,” she asked him. “Agreeable,” was his response.
“Where is Mrs. Borden,” asked Andrew.
“Um, she received a note in regards to a sick friend and has gone out to visit them.”
Andrew didn’t say anything. He nodded his head, exited the dining room, and made way for his bedroom.
A few minutes later, Andrew returned to the sitting room and sat down upon the sofa. Bridget decided to let him rest and move her work into the dining room.
Bridget entered the dining room and was setting up to begin washing windows. Lizzie decided to get out the ironing board and iron some things. She must do her ordinary chores and remain as normal as possible in front of Bridget.
As Bridget was washing a window, Lizzie nonchalantly asked her if she would be going out this afternoon. Bridget said, “I would rather take a nap than browse the stores”
Lizzie frowned.
Bridget picked up her bucket and went to kitchen to throw out her water. Lizzie trailed behind her. She had already mentioned it to Bridget earlier, but thought it couldn’t hurt to ask again. “There is a dress good sale today. I will give you some money, and if you would like to take the afternoon off to attend the sale, you’re more than welcome.”
“Oh thank you, Lizzie. But, I do believe I will take a nap. I’m feeling very light-headed and ill in my stomach.” Bridget truly was grateful for the offer, and would have taken Lizzie up on it any other day.
“Lizzie is such a kind soul sometimes,” Bridget thought to herself as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
–DOING WHAT MUST BE DONE--
The very second Bridget was out of sight, Lizzie went to the sitting room and approached her father. She asked if he was comfortable. If there was anything she could do for him. He said that he wished to be left alone so that he may nap. Lizzie left the room.
Out in the barn, she gave the mysterious man the thick envelope. He had been waiting patiently for Lizzie and had made up his mind that if she didn’t return within five minutes, he was going to leave. He had eaten the three pears Lizzie had given him and he was still hungry; and thirsty to boot. It was too damn hot in the barn and he wanted to get out of Fall River as soon as possible. He had taken off the dress and wadded it up in to a ball. “ It was too hot to wear a dress today,” he chuckled to himself.
“Let that strange gal deal with the dead lady upstairs on her own,” he thought smugly.
Lizzie walked in as he was chuckling. For a strange man she had never met before in her life, she felt like they were old friends. She was oddly comfortable in his presence. Not once did she feel scared or threatened by him. She wasn’t even worried that he would leave the barn in his wait for her to return. She knew he would be standing in the exact spot she left him in. The money in her envelope was power. She knew that and she liked that.
She immediately said, “Maggie is upstairs sleeping. Father is napping on the sofa in the sitting room. You must go in there and do what you have to do right this very second.” She handed him the envelope. He graciously took it, placed it in his pocket, and nodded. He grabbed for the dress and put it back on. As he left the barn, she felt the urge to yell out to him “Be as quiet as possible in the house.” But she didn’t. She knew she didn’t need to.
Lizzie trusted him to do what he needed to do. She had never trusted anyone more in her entire life than that strange man.
–A STRANGE THANK YOU--
Lizzie watched for the man as she stood by the pear tree. In all, she waited two minutes for the man to hurry out of the house and then nonchalantly walk down the sidewalk. He whistled a song as Lizzie watched him walk away. She watched until he disappeared and she could no longer see him.
She slowly left the barn, walked toward the house, and entered the kitchen. She walked straight ahead and entered the sitting room. Her father was lying in the exact same position she had left him in. He looked peaceful and serene, despite the deformed face and bloody mess. Lizzie could look past that. Lizzie sat down next to her father for about a minute and held his hand. She whispered out loud to no one in particular, “Ah...he’s an angel.”
She returned Andrew’s hand back onto his lap and bent down to pick up the red dress the man had thrown onto the floor. She very quietly walked up to her bedroom and took off her dress and wrapped the bloody one inside of it. She hung it up at the back of her closet. She decided to wear something pretty for the afternoon. Lizzie reached for a blue silk dress, one that she liked to wear for special occasions.
Lizzie returned to the first floor. She entered the kitchen and stood at base of the stairs. She wanted to scream loud enough so that the mysterious man whose name she didn’t know could hear her as he walked down the street, blocks away. This would be her personal thank you to the man who changed her life forever.
She slapped each cheek three times as severely as she could. She then grabbed a hold of a small roll of fat on her stomach and pinched as hard as she could possibly muster; her fingers digging into her flesh and drawing blood. While she was still pinching herself, she screamed to Bridget at the top of her lungs.
“Maaaaaaggie!!! Come down so quick! Father is dead....”