Part 13
The message read: THE HALCYON PAGES DISAPPEAR FOR FIFTY THOUSAND. CASH. NO POLICE. WAIT FOR INSTRUCTIONS.
“You received this at five-thirty Monday,” Mara said.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone.”
“I thought it came from you.”
“Why?”
“Because you had the ledger.”
“I was the archivist.”
“You had asked Julian about restricted payment files the week before.”
Mara looked at Julian.
He said, “You asked whether trust records required separate retention.”
“That was a catalog question.”
“I know that now.”
Celeste folded her arms.
“I came to the archive to see whether pages were actually missing. Daniel changed the catalog entry because I told him Julian had authorized family review. When I found Mara photographing the ledger, I assumed she had sent the message.”
“So you took the book,” Simone said.
“Yes.”
The admission entered the room quietly.
Mara watched Celeste force herself not to look away.
“I intended to hide it in the bottling room and call my mother. When I opened the cabinet, the missing pages were already taped underneath. I left them because I thought touching them would make things worse.”
“You had just stolen the ledger,” Mara said.
“I was not thinking clearly.”
“You were thinking clearly enough to switch it with the blue album.”
Celeste looked at her. “I picked up the first book I saw.”
“Why deny it all night?”
“Because Julian called an attorney before asking whether I was all right.”
Mara stared at her.
“You pulled a case out of my hands.”
“And he looked at you as though I had attacked you.”
“You had.”
“No. I had tried to stop someone I believed was blackmailing my family.”
“By threatening her career,” Simone said.
Celeste looked away.
The anger in Mara changed shape. It did not vanish, but it made room for the fact that Celeste had entered the archive believing Mara might be extorting her. The belief had been arrogant and reckless. It had also been planted deliberately.
“Who sent the message?” Mara asked.
Celeste turned to Julian.
“Your aunt.”
The library seemed to contract around them.
Julian’s face did not move.
“Beatrice lives in Oregon.”
“She arrived in Connecticut Sunday.”
“How do you know?”
“She called me after I found the pages.”
“You said you called your mother.”
“I called both.”
“Why would Beatrice threaten you?”
“She wanted the pages destroyed. She believed my mother still had access to them through me.”
Mara looked at Simone.
“Does Beatrice control Larkspur?”
“Yes,” Simone said.
Celeste continued. “She said the settlements were nearly complete and disclosure would let the trust reclaim money my grandmother advanced. She believes the family owes Larkspur, not the other way around.”
“Where is the ledger?” Julian asked.
Celeste’s eyes filled briefly, but no tears fell.
“I gave it to her.”
The answer landed without sound.
“When?” he asked.
“Monday night.”
“You never left the property.”
“She was already here.”
“Where?”
“In the old guest cottage near the south wall.”
“The cottage is closed.”
“She has a key.”
“Of course she does.”
Julian pressed his thumb against his lower lip, a habit Mara had seen when he read difficult letters.
“How did you get the ledger to her?”
“The dumbwaiter shaft opens into the cellar corridor. I carried it down after Mara left the archive.”
Mara remembered Celeste on the staircase landing holding the brass key.
“You had already hidden it before Julian entered,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Then why were you holding the key?”
“I forgot it was in my hand.”
For once, the imperfect detail made the account more believable.
Julian looked toward the window.
“Is Beatrice still on the property?”
“No. She left through the south service gate before security closed the estate.”
“The gate camera?”
“The camera has been broken for two months.”
Julian laughed once. It was not amusement.
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
Simone stepped forward.
“Why tell us this now?”
Celeste looked at Julian.
“Because my mother wants me to say nothing. Beatrice wants me to say the ledger never existed. The board wants Mara fired. And Julian keeps trying to decide which person to protect when none of us deserve it.”
Mara thought of her own words at the side entrance.
Protect the records.
Celeste had heard more than Mara realized, or had reached the same conclusion by a harsher route.
“Will you make a sworn statement?” Simone asked.
Celeste’s breathing changed.
Her hands tightened at her sides.
“Yes.”
“Will you provide your communications with Beatrice and Victoria?”
A longer pause.
“Yes.”
“Will you identify the guest cottage, route, and times?”
“Yes.”
Julian looked at her.
“What do you want in return?”
Celeste flinched.
There was the wound beneath her confession—not that he suspected a bargain, but that suspicion was reasonable.
“Nothing,” she said.
“No one gives nothing.”
“You do,” she replied. “You give things before anyone asks, then resent them for not knowing the price.”
Julian’s face hardened.
Celeste continued, more quietly. “I want my mother protected from a public spectacle until counsel knows what she actually did.”
“That is something.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Celeste looked at Mara’s arm again.
“I want the record to say I was wrong about her.”
Mara did not feel vindicated.
The apology was too small for the damage and too costly to dismiss.
Simone arranged for Celeste’s statement that afternoon.
State police were notified that estate property and potentially relevant trust records had been removed by Beatrice Waverly Chen. The report was carefully worded. No one called it theft until law enforcement decided whether family access, trust ownership, and intent supported the term.
Beatrice’s phone went to voicemail.
Her rental car had been returned in Hartford Tuesday morning. Airport records later showed she had boarded a flight to Seattle under her own name.
The ledger was gone with her.
That evening, the board reconvened.
Haines again proposed delaying regulatory notice until the ledger was recovered.
Julian returned to the head of the table.
May you like
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Mara watched his fingers rest beside the unsigned resolution. The decision before him carried no clean outcome. Immediate disclosure could freeze payments and damage the foundation. Delay could protect beneficiaries temporarily while deepening the concealment his father had begun.
