Chương 10
“You make everything sound smaller.”
“No.”
I waited until she looked at me.
“I make each thing the size it can survive being challenged at.”
She did not answer.
A few minutes later, a hospital aide brought a tray with toast, scrambled eggs, and something attempting to be sausage.
Chloe stared at it.
“Is this punishment?”
“You need to eat.”
“That isn’t food.”
“You sound like Sylvia.”
She gave me such an offended look that I immediately regretted it.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
The laugh hurt her ribs and turned into a grimace.
“Do not ever say that again.”
“I accept the ruling.”
She ate half a piece of toast.
I drank terrible coffee from a paper cup.
For a while we discussed nothing important.
She complained about the hospital blanket shedding lint.
I told her my oven had started making a clicking noise.
She said appliances were my punishment for refusing to replace things until they achieved historical significance.
It was the first stretch of normal conversation we had managed all morning.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Park.
I answered on speaker only after Chloe nodded.
“We have the fire under control,” Park said.
“Anyone hurt?” Chloe asked.
“No.”
She exhaled.
“What burned?”
“Paper files, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“And the exterior of a storage box.”
“What was in it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Park’s voice remained careful.
“The fire department found evidence suggesting an accelerant.”
I felt my posture change.
Chloe noticed.
“Someone intentionally burned it.”
“Appears that way.”
“Who?”
“We are working on that.”
“Was Vanessa still there?”
“Yes.”
“Sylvia?”
“Yes.”
“The caterers?”
“Also yes.”
“Guests?”
“Four remained outside after evacuation.”
Chloe pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.
“Did anybody see who went upstairs?”
“We are interviewing them.”
“Did Marcus do it before the police took him?”
“The timeline is not clear enough yet.”
“That means possible.”
“Yes.”
“Could Sylvia have done it?”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“Mercer?”
“He had already left.”
“Could he have started something delayed?”
I looked at her.
Park paused.
“Possible in theory, but we are not speculating.”
Chloe gave me a look that said she knew exactly where I had learned my habits.
Park continued.
“There is something else.”
I put down the coffee.
“What?”
“One of the caterers says she saw Sylvia carrying a cardboard file box from upstairs to the garage before officers arrived.”
“When?”
“Approximately twenty minutes before the first patrol unit.”
“Did she leave with it?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“Unknown.”
Chloe sat up too quickly and winced.
“Unknown?”
“Garage is being processed.”
“Was the box burned?”
“We don’t know.”
“What did Sylvia say?”
“She says she was moving decorations.”
“Thanksgiving decorations from an upstairs office?”
“That is what she says.”
I asked, “Does the caterer know what was inside?”
“No.”
“Did she see any labels?”
“No.”
“Then right now it is only a box.”
Park said nothing.
She did not need to.
A box moved before police arrived, followed by a suspicious fire, was not nothing.
It was also not proof.
Chloe asked, “What about Marcus’s laptop?”
“Located.”
“Damaged?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“In his car.”
Her expression changed.
“He took it out of the house.”
“Apparently.”
“When?”
“We are checking.”
“Can you seize it?”
“Not just because you want us to.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were about to.”
Chloe looked irritated.
Park continued.
“We are preserving what we lawfully can while warrants are being reviewed.”
“Reviewed by who?”
“People whose job it is.”
I almost smiled.
Park had apparently decided that bureaucratic vagueness could be weaponized.
“When can Chloe leave the hospital?” she asked.
“Doctor said observation for several hours.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“For once, I prefer knowing where she is.”
That did not sound reassuring.
“Why?”
“Because the threatening text came from a prepaid number.”
“So?”
“So the subscriber information is useless so far.”
“Location?”
“Working on it.”
“Any chance it came from the house?”
“Working on it.”
Chloe muttered, “There it is again.”
Park ignored her.
“Do not post anything online.”
Neither of us answered.
“Eleanor.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Chloe?”
“I don’t post personal things.”
“Good.”
“Marcus does.”
“What does he post?”
“Work, mostly.”
“Professional image?”
“Yes.”
“Photos of us sometimes.”
“When things were bad?”
“Especially then.”
That interested Park.
“How recently?”
“Last week.”
“What kind of photo?”
“Dinner.”
“Where?”
“Restaurant near his office.”
“Caption?”
Chloe closed her eye.
“Something about being grateful for the woman who kept him grounded.”
I felt a flash of anger so clean it surprised me.
Park asked, “Was the marriage already in trouble then?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the payments?”
“I had noticed the first irregularities.”
“So he publicly presented the marriage as stable while privately involved with Vanessa and while you were beginning to notice vendor issues.”
“Yes.”
“That may matter socially.”
“Not criminally,” I said.
“Correct.”
Chloe looked between us.
“Both of you really know how to ruin a satisfying fact.”
Park ended the call after promising another update.
The room quieted again.
Chloe pushed the tray away.
“You knew people like Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“Men who thought charm was the same as evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Did they usually crack?”
“Sometimes.”
“What made them?”
“Pressure.”
“What kind?”
“Not dramatic pressure.”
I folded the empty sugar packet into smaller and smaller squares.
“Conflicting stories.”
“Records.”
“People protecting themselves.”
“Someone deciding loyalty is more expensive than cooperation.”
She watched me.
“Who do you think turns first?”
“I’m not doing that.”
“You know.”
“I suspect.”
“Fine.”
“Who do you suspect?”
I looked at the curtain.
“Vanessa.”
Chloe stiffened.
“Why her?”
“Because she has the least reason to protect the family.”
“She has Marcus.”
“Does she?”
The question hurt her.
I saw it immediately.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
She looked away.
“You’re right.”
I hated being right.
“If the vendor relationship is legitimate,” I said, “she may want to prove that quickly.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“She has to decide whether Marcus is worth sharing risk with.”
May you like
“You think she’ll betray him.”
“I think people become practical when prison enters the conversation.”
