Chương 7
He looked suspicious of the concept.
Michael said quietly, “She’s right.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Are you?”
Michael frowned.
“Am I what?”
“Allowed not to know things?”
Torres lowered her eyes to hide a smile.
Michael stared at his son.
Then he said, “Apparently I need the practice.”
The first significant break came at nine seventeen.
A patrol officer located Jenna Cole at a coffee shop four miles away.
She had not been missing.
She had been fired the previous afternoon and had left the property at 4:12 p.m., exactly as the gate cameras showed. The loading-bay roster still listed her because a catering supervisor had copied the previous day’s staffing sheet.
When Torres called her, Jenna answered on the third ring.
She denied returning to the mansion.
She also denied photographing private documents.
“I photographed a dress tag,” she said.
Margaret, listening on speaker, stiffened.
Jenna continued.
“Mrs. Hale saw me holding my phone over her desk and decided I was stealing state secrets or something.”
Margaret said, “You photographed a document.”
“Oh my God, are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you are.”
Torres interrupted.
“Ms. Cole, what did you photograph?”
“A dry-cleaning tag attached to the burgundy dress because the curator asked me to identify which version was supposed to go in the exhibit.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“Can you send me the photo?” Torres asked.
“Yes.”
“Do that now.”
The image arrived twenty seconds later.
It showed a cream-colored garment tag on Margaret’s dressing-room desk.
In the background, slightly out of focus, lay a white envelope.
Only three typed words were readable.
HARTWELL REVIEW MATERIALS.
Michael looked at his mother.
Margaret looked away.
Jenna said through the phone, “I didn’t even notice the envelope until Mrs. Hale accused me.”
Torres asked, “Who else was in the dressing room yesterday?”
“Mrs. Hale. Me. The curator for about ten minutes. And some woman from her office.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe her.”
“Sixties. Brown hair. Dark skirt. Looked like she hated me.”
Claire, standing near the doorway, looked at Michael.
“Celia,” he said.
Margaret’s expression did not change.
Torres asked Jenna, “Did Celia Ward see the photograph being taken?”
“Yes. She’s the one who told Mrs. Hale.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Not because the answer surprised her.
Because it fit.
A little too well.
Torres ended the call.
Michael said, “Celia knew exactly what was in the safe.”
Margaret answered, “Celia knew the folder existed.”
“She knew you moved it here.”
“She may have.”
“May have?”
“I do not explain every filing decision to my secretary.”
“You’ve had the same secretary for nineteen years.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You seem determined to make longevity synonymous with intimacy.”
Michael’s expression changed.
There was history in the sentence Claire could not see.
Torres did see it.
“What’s the Hartwell transfer?”
Margaret turned toward her.
“That is foundation business.”
Torres waited.
Margaret sighed.
“In 2009, the Hale Foundation purchased a former textile property from Hartwell Industries and converted it into a community health and education complex.”
“Controversy?”
“A disagreement over valuation.”
Michael said, “That’s polite.”
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
Torres looked at him. “Less polite version?”
“The foundation paid substantially below a competing offer after Hartwell’s board received legal advice that the competing buyer might face zoning delays.”
Margaret said, “Which was true.”
Michael continued. “Two years later, one of Hartwell’s former directors claimed someone connected to the foundation had improperly obtained confidential information about the competing bid.”
“Was that investigated?”
“Yes.”
“Outcome?”
“No charges. Civil dispute settled.”
Margaret said, “Because the allegation could not be substantiated.”
Michael looked at her.
“That is not the same as false.”
“No. It is the same as unsubstantiated.”
Torres asked, “Why is it under review now?”
Margaret walked to the window.
“An independent board member requested a governance review after receiving an anonymous letter.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“What did the letter claim?”
Margaret did not answer immediately.
“That the original internal correspondence had been incomplete.”
Michael stared at her.
“You never told me that.”
“You are not on the foundation board.”
“I’m your son.”
“A position that does not confer governance rights.”
Michael’s voice rose for the first time.
“Stop doing that.”
Ethan, sitting on the library sofa, flinched.
Michael saw him.
His volume dropped immediately.
“Stop turning everything into procedure when you don’t want to answer.”
Margaret looked at Ethan, then back at Michael.
Torres said, “What was in the missing folder?”
Margaret’s reply was nearly inaudible.
“A letter from Celia.”
No one moved.
Michael said, “What letter?”
“Dated June 2009.”
“What does it say?”
“That she obtained a draft of the competing offer from someone at Hartwell.”
Silence filled the library.
Torres asked, “Was the acquisition based on that information?”
Margaret looked at her.
“I do not know.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Come on.”
“I said I do not know.”
“You were chair.”
“I was chair of the foundation. I was not in every negotiation.”
“Did you know about the letter in 2009?”
Margaret hesitated.
Claire watched Michael understand the answer before his mother spoke.
“Yes,” Margaret said.
Michael turned away.
Ethan looked from one adult to another.
“Is Grandma in trouble?”
Margaret’s face tightened.
Torres said, “Potentially, but right now I’m investigating the theft.”
Michael looked at his mother.
“You buried it.”
“No.”
“You kept it in a private safe for seventeen years.”
“I preserved it.”
“That is a creative verb.”
“It was part of privileged legal material.”
“Was it produced in the earlier investigation?”
Margaret said nothing.
Michael stared.
“Mother.”
“It was reviewed by counsel.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Margaret’s hands clasped behind her back.
“No.”
Ethan whispered, “What does buried mean?”
Claire said, “Not now.”
He nodded, though his eyes remained on Margaret.
Torres said, “Why would Celia steal a letter she wrote?”
Margaret looked toward the west hall.
“Because she knows the new board counsel asked whether any original material exists.”
“Would removing it solve her problem?”
“No.”
That answer came immediately.
May you like
Torres nodded.
“Good. So what would it do?”
