Chương 9
“Do you want me to?”
Margaret’s gaze followed hers.
“No.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“You are paid until four.”
“I know.”
“I’m not asking you to volunteer.”
“I know.”
Margaret turned.
“You’re very defensive about money.”
Claire stiffened.
Margaret saw it.
“That was poorly phrased.”
“Yes.”
“I meant that I do not expect unpaid loyalty from employees.”
Claire folded the cleaning cloth in her hand, though there was nothing left to clean.
“That’s good.”
Margaret watched her for a second.
“I have made you uncomfortable here.”
It was not a question.
Claire could have lied.
She did not.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“You really want an answer?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not always nice.”
Margaret blinked.
Claire nearly laughed from nerves.
Margaret looked toward the staircase, where Ethan was making quiet engine noises.
“I have been called worse things.”
“I’m sure.”
“You think I judge you.”
“I think you judge everybody.”
“That is different.”
“Not to the people being judged.”
Margaret considered this.
“Do you think I suspected you this morning?”
Claire unfolded the cloth.
Folded it again.
“You didn’t say you didn’t.”
“No.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
Margaret looked down.
The admission, when it came, was almost irritatingly plain.
“I did.”
Claire’s throat tightened despite knowing it already.
“Why?”
“You had touched the shoe. You had access to the hall. You are relatively new.”
“And I clean your house.”
Margaret looked at her.
“That too.”
Claire nodded.
There it was.
Margaret did not defend herself.
“I am sorry.”
Claire stared.
Margaret Hale apologized the way other people signed legal documents: deliberately, without ornament.
Claire had no prepared response.
“Okay.”
“That does not mean you have to forgive it immediately.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Margaret’s eyebrow moved.
Claire looked away.
A moment later Margaret said, “Good.”
At one twenty-three, Michael returned from the hospital.
He looked exhausted.
Margaret met him in the library.
Claire did not intend to join them, but Michael asked her to bring Ethan.
“He needs to hear part of this,” he said.
Margaret objected.
Michael shook his head.
“He already owns part of it.”
Ethan sat on the rug with his truck.
Michael remained standing.
“Celia admitted taking the folder.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Claire had expected triumph or anger.
What appeared on Margaret’s face was grief.
Not dramatic grief.
Not tears.
Something smaller and harder.
“Why?”
“She thought the board review would destroy her.”
“It may.”
“She knows.”
“Why the dress?”
Michael looked at Ethan.
“Because she knew the hallway camera outside the west study had been repaired last week. Daniel told her the replacement camera uses facial matching only as a secondary alert. She didn’t understand exactly how it worked, but she believed if the footage showed you entering the room, security would ignore it.”
Margaret said, “The cameras are not monitored that way.”
“She didn’t know that.”
Torres, who had entered behind him, added, “Most crimes involve someone being wrong about at least one thing.”
Ethan whispered, “Her hair was bad.”
Torres nodded solemnly. “That may have been another thing.”
Michael continued.
“Celia took the burgundy dress from your closet last night and hid it in the old linen room. She bought a gray wig two days ago.”
“The shoe?”
“Her husband’s.”
Margaret frowned.
“Celia isn’t married.”
“She was.”
Michael waited.
“George Ward died eleven months ago.”
Margaret stared.
Claire watched her absorb the fact.
“She never told me.”
“No.”
Michael’s answer was not cruel.
That made it worse.
“He had been sick for years,” Michael said. “Kidney failure, then cardiac problems. Celia was paying for private home care that insurance didn’t fully cover.”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“That does not explain Hartwell.”
“No. Hartwell explains Hartwell.”
Torres sat opposite her.
“In 2009, Celia obtained the competitor’s draft offer from George.”
Margaret whispered, “What?”
“He was working as a systems contractor for Hartwell. Temporary position. He had access to shared document servers during a migration.”
Margaret looked toward the window.
“He stole it.”
“Yes.”
“And she gave it to our acquisition team.”
“She says she gave it to you.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“No.”
Michael said, “She says she placed it in a red folder on your desk during the June board retreat.”
“That is not true.”
“Maybe.”
“It is not.”
Torres said, “We are not resolving the 2009 matter today.”
Margaret stood.
“If she is claiming I knowingly used stolen information—”
“I said we are not resolving it today.”
Margaret sat again.
Torres continued. “What matters for the theft is that Celia believed the letter in your safe connected her husband to the original leak. She also believed the foundation’s current lawyers did not have the original.”
“They have a copy,” Margaret said.
“She didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t she simply ask me?”
Michael looked at her.
Margaret’s face changed.
The question answered itself.
Torres said, “She was afraid.”
“Of me?”
Michael exhaled.
“Mother.”
Margaret ignored him.
“Did she say that?”
“Yes,” Torres said.
The answer landed heavily.
Margaret’s hands remained folded.
“What happened this morning?”
Michael glanced at Ethan.
“At six twenty-five, Celia entered through the employee entrance using her normal credentials. She had the wig, dress and George’s old shoes in a garment tote. She changed in the linen room.”
“Why his shoes?”
Torres answered. “She needed shoes that altered her height and gait. Your footwear is narrower, and she was afraid one of your staff would recognize her own shoes.”
Margaret almost smiled from disbelief.
“She selected men’s shoes to appear more like me?”
“She was improvising.”
Ethan said, “I knew she walked weird.”
Michael nodded.
“She waited until she thought the hall was empty. She used the duplicate key to the west study.”
Margaret looked up.
“There is no duplicate key.”
“There is now.”
“How?”
“Jenna.”
Claire frowned.
“The wardrobe assistant?”
“Celia took Margaret’s west-study key from the dressing-room desk yesterday while Margaret was confronting Jenna over the photograph. She pressed it into soft conservation wax from the historical display.”
Margaret’s gaze moved toward the ceiling.
“Then had a copy cut?”
May you like
Torres nodded.
“We found a receipt in her email.”
