Chapter 14
Roger Rydell Dishes the Dirt
‘ROMEO & JULIET’ ATTACKER CHARGED: Peter Blackwell and Beatrix Harper finally spoke out (oh so briefly) about the love-triangle attack that left them for dead.
During a police press conference in Washington that announced charges against the still-missing Theodore Garrett, Omnimancer Blackwell said he and his fiancée were indebted to the boys in blue.
“We’d been drugged,” he said, Miss Harper clutching his hand. “We still have more questions than answers about that day. But we’re grateful to be alive, and very grateful to the police for their work on this difficult case.”
And that was it — the whole statement. Miss Harper, who’ll go on and on about “typic rights” if you give her an opening, did nothing but say “very grateful” like some sort of echo.
But never fear, rabid readers. I’ve got the dirt. Here’s the picture of Wizard Garrett painted by people who actually know him:
“A delightful young man.” (His neighbor for the past five years, Joseph Travis.)
“A fellow who always had a smile on his face.” (His senior advisor at the Los Angeles Wizarding Academy, Ralph May.)
“A good friend.” That’s from Ted Regel, a childhood buddy, who adds, “I wish to God he’d never met that woman.”
“That woman,” of course, is Miss Harper. My well-placed sources say she was leading Wizard Garrett on until she hooked Omnimancer Blackwell, at which point she promptly dropped the unfortunate swain.
“He came undone,” said Mr. Regel. He hadn’t seen Wizard Garrett for several years and noticed the difference when they had a boys’ night out a month ago. “I would go crazy, too, if it were me.”
March 15, 2021
Alleged attacker had troubling fixation with ‘Juliet,’ former colleagues say
By R.T. Singh
Washington Herald reporter
Theo Garrett’s coworkers knew something like this might happen.
That’s what four of them said in exclusive interviews with The Washington Herald the day after he was charged — in absentia — with a brazen attempt to kill Peter Blackwell and Beatrix Harper after the latter chose Wizard Blackwell over him.
All spoke on the condition that they not be named because of the sensitive nature of their jobs at the Pentagram.
“He’s fixated on that woman,” said one of the men who worked in Wizard Garrett’s unit.
“He seemed to think she was the only one he could count on to love him as opposed to his status as a wizard. But for [expletive] sake, when someone refuses to marry you, that’s a pretty clear sign they don’t love you. ”
“He’s not used to skirts saying no to him,” another former colleague said. “Kind of drove him ’round the bend.”
A wizard who worked with Wizard Garrett for six years put it more bluntly: “Something is very wrong with him.”
March 15, 2021
Father of accused ‘Romeo & Juliet’ attacker left with bitter memories
By Ron Sawyer
New Orleans Bee staff writer
Theo Garrett never visited his parents in the four years they lived in a cozy house a few miles outside New Orleans. He never called. When his mother died last June, he didn’t come to her funeral.
Now his father is left with terrible clues — in police and news reports — about the man his estranged son has become.
She woke in the dark and lay in her bed for a few more moments, savoring the thought that she would never again have to sleep in it—alone—while an invisible camera recorded her every toss and turn.
She’d spent her last night in this house.
Fourteen or so hours from now, she could slip into Peter’s bed without fear of condemnation.
She considered that for a pleasant thirty seconds, her imagination fueled by all the things they’d done dreamside, when reality hit.
They didn’t want children, they absolutely could not afford an accident, and their only way to guarantee none was to forgo what she had long thought was the sole form of sexual relations.
Now she knew other methods of giving and receiving pleasure, but such a restriction …
She groaned and rolled out of bed, a final offering for the cameras. Oh, how she missed dreamside.
But she’d talked herself into a better mood by the end of breakfast. If she could go back in time and tell her month-ago self that Peter would soon break free of his coma, share his life with her and sleep with her but just not in this one specific way—and wasn’t that rotten—well, she’d get roundly told off by herself.
By the end of the day, they would be married. He was alive, he loved her and that was more than enough. She kept these thoughts in mind as she packed her lunch, put on her nicest dress and pinned up her hair, until she was positively giddy.
He arrived to take her to work with a smile every bit as wide as hers. “Ready?”
It was a question with two meanings, and she answered both. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
“I have the rings,” he murmured on the way to his car.
“Did the jeweler recognize you?”
He chuckled. “Nope. I put on a hat, tucked my hair under my coat and turned up the collar.”
In the car, he pulled a book from the back seat and handed it to her. “Before we go, take a look at something.”
Why he wanted her to see Greenhouse Gardens became clear when he opened the front cover and she saw the piece of paper tucked inside.
Her breath caught.
I, Peter Blackwell, relinquish any so-called coverture rights over Beatrix Harper once we are married.
I will not prevent her from working if she so chooses or dictate anything about such employment.
I will consult with her on any matter involving our finances.
I will take no significant actions involving our property without her consent.
In short, I acknowledge her as an adult with equal standing and commit to treating her as such, regardless of ridiculous laws to the contrary.
She stared at it, the memory of their past contracts—the terrible Vows—making this one all the more striking.
He cleared his throat. “Is it ... all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She knew she couldn’t say much, in case the car was bugged, so she simply added, “Yes.”
He leaned in, signing and dating it.
“You know I trust you,” she said as he pulled down the driveway, hoping he would understand she meant even without it.
He nodded. “I know. But some things just cry out to be said.”
It was by far the pleasantest trip to work she’d ever had. Then they pulled in sight of the Senate office building and saw the clot of men outside it—at least twenty. They had the look of reporters.
“Oh no,” Peter said. “Now what?”
When it turned out they were all there in hopes of additional comments about Garrett, she was almost relieved—almost but not quite.
She’d nearly had a panic attack in the middle of the police press conference on Saturday.
Now her chest tightened with guilt about the truth they were holding back and the fear that came with the memory of what actually had happened.
She couldn’t have answered questions if she’d wanted to.
“We’re very grateful to the police for all their work, and we don’t want to harm their investigation by commenting,” Peter kept saying as he maneuvered them through the scrum.
As he finally got a hand on the door, one of the reporters called out, “Miss Harper! Is it true you led Wizard Garrett on to make Omnimancer Blackwell jealous so he would propose?”
“Oh, come on,” Peter bit out, glancing over his shoulder. “No one who knows Beatrix would give that any credence at all.”
Once they were inside and out of view of the doors, he murmured, “Are you all right?”
She managed a deeper breath and nodded.
“Should I stay a while?” he said.
“No, I’ll be OK.” She squeezed his hand. “See you at lunch.”
His grin returned. She felt a bit better. And when noon arrived, she was better still, because too-close-to-call Virginia had passed its typic-rights measure.
“No one’s waiting to ask us about that, I see,” Peter said, as they walked out of the building to a sidewalk devoid of reporters.
“Hickok’s writing something. Gray did two or three interviews, I think.” She sighed. “I know, I know, there were three dozen reporters at the police press conference.”
His lips quirked. “Well, never mind—I’m in rather a hurry to get somewhere.”
She smiled at him. He started to laugh. “What?” he said. “What are you thinking with that mischievous look in your eyes?”
“Just wondering if kissing you right now is worth the chance that it will be headline news tomorrow,” she said.
“Absolutely worth it.”
“Rosemarie will be annoyed.”
“Rosemarie is always annoyed.”
Now she was laughing, too, so happy she felt weightless. “That’s not true. She’s no killjoy, you know, she’s just cautious.”
“I know. But my position still stands: Worth it.”
As they turned the corner onto an empty side street, she brushed her lips against his, just a second of contact that set off every nerve ending in her body.
They took a circuitous route to the courthouse, checking behind them as they went to ensure they weren’t followed. Peter tucked his hair under his coat and put on the hat that had worked so well at the jeweler’s.
“Are the Clarks coming?” he murmured as they slipped into the marriage-license line behind two other couples.
“Yes. What about the Reeds?”
“I decided I’d better not ask. It’ll be the middle of the dinner rush for them.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m sure there are people you’d like to invite but couldn’t.”
That was true. The Crofts—she trusted the mayor to keep the secret, but not his gossipy wife. Sweet old Mr. Freelow, who wasn’t really a gossip but simply could not keep a thought, once in his head, from coming out of his mouth.
Joan Hamilton, fellow League stalwart—but in that case, it wasn’t fear of the secret getting out that stopped her. Why would Joan want to come to the wedding of a woman who persuaded her to put herself in danger for a cause, then forced her to stop?
Ella. Most of all, Ella.