Chương 9
Camille folded another towel.
“No, you were accurate.”
“Accuracy can still be used as a weapon.”
“You must have learned that in officer school.”
“I learned it from our mothers.”
Camille stopped folding.
The washing machine hummed through its final cycle.
Valeria sat on an overturned basket.
“I need you to tell me the rest before Richard does.”
“There isn’t a clean version.”
“I am no longer expecting one.”
Camille looked toward the narrow window above the machines.
“We were behind on the mortgage. Richard’s company owed payroll taxes. He said Bell Coast could bring in enough money to stabilize everything before anyone knew. He wanted three houses. He had investors willing to finance the platform if we could prove demand.”
“So he used mine.”
“He said one summer would solve it.”
“How many events happened?”
“Two dinners. One weekend.”
Valeria stared at her.
“People stayed here?”
“Four couples. In February.”
“I was in Poland.”
“I know.”
“Who cleaned afterward?”
“I did.”
The detail struck harder than it should have.
Valeria imagined Camille making beds, washing glasses, and resetting furniture so the house would remain silent. Not only lying but laboring to preserve the lie.
“Did they enter the private room?”
“No. I kept it locked.”
“Richard didn’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What happened during the weekend?”
“Nothing. They ate, drank, talked about investment returns, and complained about the mattresses. One man left wet towels on every chair he touched.”
“That is your memory?”
“I was terrified you’d come home early. I remember everything useless.”
Valeria rubbed her eyes.
“How much did you receive?”
“Richard said thirty thousand.”
“Into which account?”
“His business.”
“Did you benefit?”
“He paid the mortgage.”
“Then yes.”
Camille nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
The word carried more weight than any apology she had offered.
Valeria looked at the folded towels stacked between them.
“Why did he search the private room?”
“He thought Grandma’s packet might contain language giving me rights to the house. He wanted leverage if you confronted us.”
“Did you tell him where it was?”
“I told him where I saw you put it after the funeral.”
“You said you thought I destroyed it.”
“I wanted him to believe you were capable of destroying it.”
“Why?”
“Because then what we were doing felt like taking back something stolen.”
Valeria stood.
The laundry room seemed suddenly too small.
Camille remained on the floor.
“That is the ugliest truth I have,” she said.
Valeria left without answering.
Detective Price called that evening.
A client had provided a video recorded during the February weekend. In the background, Richard could be seen carrying a cream-colored packet tied with a green ribbon from the upstairs hall into the kitchen.
He placed it in a leather briefcase.
The image was clear enough to identify the object.
Price obtained a search warrant for Richard’s home and business office the next morning.
The packet was not there.
Neither was Richard.
His SUV was found at Tampa International Airport, but no record showed him boarding a commercial flight. His passport remained in the house. His business laptop, two external drives, and several boxes of financial records were missing.
Camille listened to Price on speakerphone.
“Do you know where he would go?” the detective asked.
“No.”
“Family property? Friend? Client?”
“His brother has a fishing cabin near Cedar Key.”
“Address?”
“I don’t know it.”
“Can you find out without alerting the family?”
Camille looked at Valeria.
“Maybe.”
She called Denise.
Richard’s mother answered after six rings.
“Where is my son?”
“I was going to ask you.”
“Police tore apart his office.”
“They had a warrant.”
“You did this.”
“Richard did something.”
“You stood beside that woman in her uniform and let her make him look like a criminal.”
Camille closed her eyes.
Valeria sat across from her but said nothing.
“Did Richard go to Kyle’s cabin?” Camille asked.
Denise went quiet.
“Why?”
“Because police are looking for him.”
“He needs time.”
“To do what?”
“To think.”
“Where is the cabin?”
“I don’t know.”
Camille looked at Price, who had joined the call from his office. He wrote something down.
“Denise,” Camille said, “if he destroys records or leaves the state, this gets worse.”
“He is trying to protect his family.”
“He emptied our bank account.”
“He said Valeria would freeze everything.”
“She cannot freeze our accounts.”
“She has officers and police at her house. Don’t tell me what she can do.”
Valeria watched Camille’s fingers tighten around the phone.
“Did he tell you the packet belongs to me?” Camille asked.
“What packet?”
The answer was too careful.
Camille’s voice softened.
“Grandma wrote me a letter. Richard took it from Valeria’s locked room. Did he show it to you?”
Denise breathed into the phone.
“He said it proved you were cheated.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did the letter say I owned the house?”
Another silence.
“No,” Denise said.
Camille’s face changed.
“What did it say?”
“I only saw one page.”
“What did it say?”
Denise began to cry. The sound was restrained, almost angry.
“It said Eleanor left the house to Valeria because Valeria could keep it. It said you needed people more than property, and property made you cruel when you were afraid.”
Camille did not move.
Denise continued.
“Richard said the old woman was confused. He said there had to be another page.”
“Was there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he?”
Denise whispered the name of a marina outside Crystal River.
Price ended the call and contacted local deputies.
They found Richard that evening in Kyle’s cabin, thirty miles from the marina. He had two laptops, the business records, forty-three thousand dollars in cashier’s checks, and the green-ribbon packet.
He had not destroyed it.
He had opened it.
The packet contained six pages in Eleanor’s handwriting, a copy of the final will, and two sealed letters—one addressed to Valeria, one to Camille.
Richard had opened Camille’s letter.
May you like
He had not opened Valeria’s.
Detective Price called from the sheriff’s office after Richard was taken into custody on charges related to burglary, theft, fraud, and unlawful access. The exact charges could change as prosecutors reviewed the evidence and client claims.
