Chương 3
“I suspected.”
“Did officers know you planned to record her?”
“No.”
“Did they instruct you to allow the wine to be served?”
“No.”
“Then why did it reach Mr. Vale’s hand?”
Evelyn looked toward the cinder-block wall. Pipes ran along the ceiling. Somewhere beyond it, a dishwasher rack rattled.
“I thought the officers were already in the building.”
“They weren’t.”
“I know that now.”
“You could have stopped the service before the glass was poured.”
“Celeste was watching me.”
“So?”
“So I was afraid she would leave with the vial and say I invented everything.”
“You risked his life to make your story stronger.”
The words landed without volume.
Evelyn drew a slow breath. “Yes.”
Quinn closed the notebook.
The detective did not accuse her of attempted murder. She did not promise protection either. She asked for the address of Evelyn’s apartment, the names of anyone she had told, and permission to search her belongings. Evelyn gave all three.
When Quinn stood, Evelyn said, “Is Arthur all right?”
“Mr. Vale is being taken to the hospital for observation.”
“He didn’t drink.”
“That’s what everyone hopes.”
“And Celeste?”
Quinn slipped the notebook into her coat. “She has an attorney on the way.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what matters.”
Arthur spent the night in a private hospital room that smelled faintly of disinfectant and burned coffee. Two police officers remained outside. His cardiologist, summoned from a dinner across town, ordered tests Arthur considered excessive and everyone else considered necessary.
At two in the morning, his blood pressure was still elevated. He blamed the cuff.
His attorney, Samuel Rusk, stood by the window reading messages from Arthur’s board members. Samuel had represented him for thirty-one years and had stopped pretending not to judge him around year twelve.
“You need to release a statement before breakfast,” Samuel said.
“I nearly died.”
“That will be the statement.”
Arthur stared at the plastic cup of water on the bedside tray. “My wife tried to murder me.”
“Allegedly.”
“I watched the recording.”
“So did a room containing two senators, three network executives, and at least forty people who believe discretion is something other people owe them.”
Arthur looked at him. “You’re worried about the foundation dinner.”
“I’m worried about what happens when the attempted murder of Arthur Vale becomes less interesting than the reason his wife wanted him dead.”
Arthur’s fingers stopped against the blanket.
Samuel lowered the phone.
“There is a reason, I assume.”
“Money.”
“That is not a reason. It is a category.”
“She believed I was changing the trust.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
Samuel nodded once. “How much did she stand to lose?”
“Most of it.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked toward the dark window. His reflection seemed older than the man in the bed.
“She moved funds.”
“From where?”
“The Vale Foundation.”
“How much?”
“Eleven million over four years.”
Samuel said nothing.
“It wasn’t all theft.”
“That is rarely a reassuring sentence.”
“Some payments were authorized.”
“By whom?”
Arthur reached for the water, then remembered the wine and withdrew his hand. “By me.”
Samuel’s eyes closed briefly.
The hospital monitor continued its patient beeping.
Arthur said, “She redirected some of the money afterward. I was going to require her resignation and file for divorce.”
“And place the financial misconduct entirely on her.”
“I was going to protect the foundation.”
Samuel gave him a tired look. “You were going to protect the name on the building.”
Arthur had never enjoyed being understood when the understanding was accurate.
“What do the police know?” Samuel asked.
“Nothing about the accounts.”
“They will.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Your wife attempted to poison you at a public dinner. Investigators will ask why. Prosecutors will ask why. Her attorney will answer for them if you don’t.”
Arthur looked at the sealed paper bag on the side table containing his stained shirt cuff.
“Evelyn Hart knows something,” he said.
“The server?”
“Celeste spoke to her for weeks.”
Samuel’s mouth tightened. “The woman who accepted five thousand dollars to help your wife control your drink?”
Arthur turned. “You know that already?”
“The detective called. Miss Hart may be a witness, a suspect, or both.”
“She saved my life.”
“She also let the glass reach your mouth.”
Arthur looked back at the window.
That part had lodged deeper than he wanted to admit.
Evelyn was released shortly before dawn after agreeing to return for further questioning. No one said she was free of suspicion. An officer drove her to her apartment while detectives executed the search she had authorized.
She lived on the third floor of a narrow brick building above a laundromat. The hallway smelled of detergent and old cooking oil. Her younger sister, Nora, was sitting on the top stair in plaid pajama pants and a winter coat, though it was April.
The moment Evelyn appeared, Nora stood.
“What did you do?”
Evelyn glanced at the officer beside her. “Can we go inside?”
“They already went inside.”
Nora folded her arms. “They took your laptop.”
“They’ll bring it back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“You’re on the news.”
Evelyn stopped.
Nora held up her phone. The screen showed a blurred image from the banquet hall. Evelyn was visible with her arm raised, phone in hand. Celeste appeared to be recoiling from her. The headline called Evelyn an unidentified server who had interrupted a possible poisoning attempt.
Below it, comments multiplied faster than Nora could scroll.
“Don’t read them,” Evelyn said.
“I wasn’t reading them. I was trying to figure out whether you were arrested.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Were you working for that woman?”
Evelyn took the key from her coat pocket, then remembered the door was already open.
“Nora.”
“That means yes.”
Inside, the apartment looked almost normal. The detectives had returned cushions to the couch and closed most of the drawers. A bowl of oranges remained on the kitchen counter beside an unopened electricity bill. The envelope containing Celeste’s cash was gone.
May you like
Nora followed her in.
“You said the extra work was for a wedding.”
