Chương 7
At eight the next morning, Richard knocked.
Margaret opened the door in the same faded dress because her suitcase remained at the motel.
He held a paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“Breakfast.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared.
“You purchased food without knowing what it is?”
“My assistant did.”
Margaret stepped aside.
“Of course she did.”
He entered carrying coffee, eggs, toast, fruit, yogurt and something involving chia seeds that Margaret refused on visual grounds.
Richard had changed into gray trousers and a blue shirt.
Without a jacket, he looked less armored.
He put two coffees on the table.
Margaret sniffed one.
“Mine?”
“Black.”
“You remember.”
“I remember things.”
The hurt underneath annoyed her because she had not intended the remark as a test.
She sat.
Richard remained standing.
“You need to sleep.”
“I slept.”
“How long?”
“Two hours.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it affectionately.”
“I know.”
He sat.
For a while they ate.
Richard cut his eggs into pieces and then did not touch them.
Margaret watched him rearrange them with a fork.
He had done that as a boy when upset.
Some habits survived money.
Finally he said, “I called the law firm.”
Margaret looked up.
“They’re reviewing archived records. The partner whose name is on your letter retired four years ago.”
“Convenient.”
“He’s alive.”
“Less convenient.”
Richard almost smiled.
“They found a matter number. The client listed was Celeste.”
Margaret set down her coffee.
“Not you?”
“No.”
“You needed a lawyer to tell you that?”
“I needed records.”
Fair enough.
He continued.
“My office is also searching archived communications involving your name, Dana Mercer and Celeste.”
“How long?”
“Probably days.”
“Good.”
He looked surprised.
“What?”
“If they’d solved twelve years by breakfast, I’d worry about your employees.”
Richard stared at her.
Then he laughed.
It was small and unwilling.
Margaret felt the old instinct to smile with him.
She resisted.
Not as punishment.
Because ease could become another lie.
“Richard.”
He sobered.
“I need to say something you won’t like.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“You didn’t lose me only because Celeste lied.”
His face tightened.
Margaret looked at the coffee.
“You were angry with me before any of this. You let people manage your life because you were busy. When someone told you I didn’t want contact, you accepted it because part of you was relieved.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No.”
She met his eyes.
“It isn’t.”
He pushed back his chair.
“I thought you were dead.”
“Later.”
“I grieved you.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what that was.”
“You’re right.”
His voice rose.
“I stood over an empty coffin because there was no body. I put your locket—”
He stopped.
Margaret’s hand went to her throat.
Richard looked stricken.
“I thought I put your locket in the coffin.”
Silence.
The locket sat on the table between them.
Its broken chain had been placed in a small plastic evidence bag by hotel security because Celeste’s contact with Margaret might become relevant if Margaret chose to make a complaint.
Richard stared at it.
“What did I bury?”
Margaret’s skin prickled.
“I don’t know.”
He stood.
The ordinary breakfast disappeared.
“When they prepared the memorial, Celeste told me they recovered some personal effects from the house.”
Margaret frowned.
“What effects?”
“My father’s watch. Your blue scarf. The locket.”
“My blue scarf was in the cottage.”
Richard looked at the gold oval.
“And the locket?”
“No.”
“Where was it?”
“With me.”
The first real clue had arrived.
Not dramatically.
Not through a confession.
Through an object that could not have been in two places.
Richard called his attorney.
Margaret stopped him before he reached the second sentence.
“Speaker.”
He hesitated.
“Please.”
He put the phone on speaker.
The attorney, a woman named Elaine Porter, listened without interrupting.
When Richard finished, she said, “Do not assume what it means yet.”
Margaret liked her immediately.
Richard did not.
“What else could it mean?”
“Possibly a mistake in your memory. Possibly the item in the coffin was similar. Possibly you were told it was there but never saw it. Possibly Mrs. Hale—Margaret—owned more than one locket.”
“One,” Margaret said.
“Thank you. We verify before conclusions.”
Richard paced.
“Who arranged the personal effects?”
“We’ll determine that.”
Margaret drank her coffee.
Elaine continued.
“Margaret, I need to ask whether you want separate counsel.”
Richard stopped pacing.
Margaret looked at the phone.
“Why?”
“Because your interests may not align with Richard’s. Or Celeste’s. Or the foundation’s. You may be a witness. You may also have claims you haven’t considered. I represent Richard personally on this matter as of this morning. I do not represent you.”
Richard said, “Elaine—”
“No,” Margaret interrupted. “She’s right.”
She leaned toward the phone.
“Can you give me three names?”
“I can.”
“Not anyone who golfs with him.”
Elaine paused.
“I can give you three names who probably dislike him.”
Richard stared at the phone.
Margaret smiled.
“I like you.”
Richard muttered, “Everyone does.”
By noon, Margaret had an attorney.
Her name was Denise Harper.
She was sixty-one, wore practical shoes and spent the first twenty minutes asking Margaret questions Richard had not thought to ask.
Did Margaret feel safe?
Did she have somewhere she wanted to stay?
Did she want contact with Richard?
Did she want Celeste prevented from contacting her?
Had anyone touched her besides the locket incident?
Did she want police involved in that incident?
Margaret said no to the last question for now.
Denise nodded.
No pressure.
No speech about justice.
Just a note on a yellow pad.
When Richard asked whether they could proceed together, Denise said, “You can cooperate. That doesn’t mean you’re one unit.”
Margaret watched her son absorb another limit.
He was having a difficult week.
Good, she thought again.
Again she felt guilty.
The DNA test was Richard’s idea.
Margaret agreed because she understood the necessity, though the request still hurt.
A private laboratory arranged legally documented collection that afternoon. Cheek swabs, identification, signatures.
May you like
The technician was young and nervous.
Margaret asked whether he had ever confirmed a dead woman’s relationship to a billionaire before.
