Chương 3
Water darkened the shoulder of his blazer.
“Where is she?” Margaret said.
He looked at her.
“Where is my sister?”
“Margaret—”
“Where?”
He swallowed.
“Brooklyn.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You buried an empty coffin.”
“It wasn’t empty.”
She felt cold.
“What was in it?”
Richard looked away.
“Richard.”
“Remains.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret’s knees weakened.
Hannah touched her elbow.
Margaret pulled away.
“No.”
Hannah froze.
Margaret steadied herself against the table.
The room had begun moving again, cautiously. People murmured. A manager approached, uncertain whether to intervene.
Margaret picked up the black card.
“Take me to her.”
Richard shook his head.
“You can’t just show up.”
“She’s my sister.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
Margaret felt the statement more violently than the lie itself.
“You’ve spoken to her.”
“Yes.”
“Recently?”
Richard said nothing.
“How recently?”
“This afternoon.”
Margaret laughed.
The sound frightened her.
“This afternoon.”
“She called me.”
“From where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“You just said Brooklyn.”
“That’s all I’m saying.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“You will tell me exactly where she is.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“Not here.”
“You lost the privilege of privacy twelve years ago.”
“Margaret, there are things you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Won’t.”
That answer, at least, was honest.
Margaret turned toward Hannah.
“Call security.”
Richard’s face changed.
“What?”
“And the police.”
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“You helped fake my sister’s death.”
His voice hardened.
“You don’t know that.”
“You buried somebody.”
“I buried what I was told was Evelyn.”
Margaret stopped.
“What does that mean?”
He looked toward the elevator corridor.
Claire had not returned.
Richard’s shoulders dropped.
“When the accident happened, I identified the body.”
Margaret remembered.
Of course.
The police had advised the family not to view Evelyn because of the injuries.
Richard had done it.
He had protected them.
That was how he had explained it.
“You identified her.”
“Yes.”
“And you lied.”
Richard rubbed his mouth.
“I thought it was her.”
Margaret said nothing.
He looked at her.
“I thought Evelyn was dead for six weeks.”
The manager reached them.
“Ms. Vale, is everything all right?”
“No,” Margaret said.
Richard said, “Yes.”
Margaret looked at him.
The manager wisely chose Margaret.
“Do you need assistance?”
Margaret considered the question.
Then she looked around at the restaurant.
At the staring guests.
At Hannah.
At the broken glass.
At Richard’s wet blazer.
Her professional instincts returned before her emotions did, automatic and ridiculous.
She lowered her voice.
“Close table seventeen. Comp everything around us. Apologize for the disturbance. Tell security I may need them, but don’t call the police yet.”
Richard exhaled.
Margaret heard it.
“That wasn’t for you,” she said.
The manager nodded and left.
Margaret sat.
Her legs required it.
Richard remained standing.
“Sit down,” she said.
He did.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Margaret said, “Start with the accident.”
Richard looked toward the broken glass being swept from the floor.
“It was October seventeenth.”
“I know the date.”
“She’d been driving back from New Haven.”
“I know.”
“Margaret.”
“Then tell me something I don’t.”
He rubbed his thumb across the edge of the table.
“The car went through the guardrail near Hamden.”
Margaret remembered the state trooper explaining it.
Rain.
Speed.
A curve.
Fire.
“Evelyn wasn’t found in the driver’s seat,” Richard said.
Margaret looked at him.
“What?”
“She was in the passenger side. What they thought was her.”
Margaret’s mouth went dry.
“There were two people?”
“They thought so at first.”
“Who was driving?”
“They couldn’t tell.”
“Why didn’t we know this?”
“Because by the time your family arrived, the report had been simplified.”
“Reports don’t simplify themselves.”
“No.”
“Who simplified it?”
Richard looked at her.
“I did.”
Margaret sat back.
The honesty had become worse than the lies.
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn asked me to.”
The city disappeared behind rain.
Margaret heard something mechanical in the kitchen, perhaps a dishwasher rack being pushed shut.
“She was alive,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In a hospital.”
“And you knew.”
“Not immediately.”
“When?”
“Six weeks later.”
Margaret stared at him.
Six weeks after the funeral.
Her mother had still been sleeping in Evelyn’s old robe.
Margaret had still been bringing casseroles home from neighbors.
Richard had still been coming by on Sundays.
He had sat at their mother’s kitchen table.
He had drunk coffee.
He had listened to Margaret cry.
“You came to my house.”
“I know.”
“You ate my food.”
“I know.”
“You watched my mother grieve.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
Margaret stood.
Richard did not move.
“You knew she was alive.”
“I found out after.”
“And then you kept pretending.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked up at her.
“Because Evelyn begged me to.”
Margaret’s hand trembled.
She placed it flat on the table.
“What had she done?”
Richard looked away.
Margaret understood before he spoke.
Not the details.
But the shape.
People did not fake death to protect comfort.
“What had she done?” Margaret repeated.
Richard whispered, “She stole money.”
Margaret almost smiled.
Evelyn had stolen five dollars from Margaret when she was fourteen and confessed before dinner.
“What kind of money?”
“Company money.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“How much?”
“Four-point-eight million.”
Margaret stared.
Richard’s voice remained low.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.”
Margaret laughed once.
“I’m sure the four-point-eight million was very accidental.”
“She didn’t start by stealing.”
“People rarely do.”
“She was moving funds between accounts.”
“That’s stealing.”
“She told herself it was temporary.”
“That’s what stealing people tell themselves.”
Richard looked at her.
“You sound exactly like her.”
Margaret stopped.
“Don’t.”
He looked back at the table.
“She said you’d say that.”
A deep, ugly ache opened behind Margaret’s ribs.
She sat again.
“Where is she?”
Richard shook his head.
“We finish this first.”
“You don’t set the terms.”
“I’m the only one who knows enough to tell you what happened.”
Margaret hated that he was right.
She folded her hands.
“Talk.”
Richard took a breath.
May you like
“Evelyn worked for Barlow Hale.”
Margaret remembered the firm. A small investment advisory company in Greenwich. Evelyn had been operations director.
