Part 5
“No.”
“Did she help you?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Claire stood.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Giving me the narrowest possible truth.”
Daniel heard a chair move in the kitchen.
Veronica called, “Ask him about the witness page.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
Claire looked toward the open glass door.
“What witness page?”
“Stay where you are,” Daniel said.
Veronica laughed softly.
Ruth said something too low to hear.
Claire walked into the kitchen. Daniel followed.
Veronica had not left the stool, but she now sat turned toward Ruth.
“What did you do?” Claire asked the housekeeper.
Ruth placed the folded towel on the counter. It had become a neat blue-white rectangle no larger than her palm.
“Miss Hale is trying to frighten you.”
“You were there when Howard signed the amendment.”
“Yes.”
“Did you witness it?”
Ruth’s eyes moved to Daniel.
Veronica saw the glance.
“There,” she said. “That is the whole house in one look.”
Daniel leaned against the island and crossed his arms to hide the slight trembling in his hands.
“Tell her, Ruth.”
Ruth studied him. “Which part?”
“The part she asked.”
Ruth pushed the towel away.
“Howard asked me to witness his signature. I refused.”
“Why?” Claire said.
“He had been confused that morning.”
“Confused how?”
“He called me Miriam.”
“Who is Miriam?”
“His first wife.”
Veronica’s voice sharpened. “He corrected himself.”
“After I told him.”
“He knew what he was signing.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I was with him for two hours before you came in.”
“And I was with him for twenty-six years.”
“You cleaned his rooms.”
Ruth’s face changed.
Daniel had seen her withstand wealthy guests who treated her as furniture and trustees who forgot her name while asking how long she had served the family. He had never seen her respond. Now she looked at Veronica with something almost peaceful.
“I cleaned everything they left behind,” Ruth said.
Veronica turned away first.
Claire looked between them.
“If Ruth didn’t witness it, who did?”
“Two employees from Howard’s foundation,” Daniel said. “They signed.”
“Then why did she mention a witness page?”
Veronica answered.
“Because after Howard died, the signed amendment was missing its final page.”
Claire frowned. “The copy I saw had signatures.”
“The copy you saw was assembled from scans,” Veronica said. “The original document was twelve pages. The original Daniel received had eleven.”
Daniel felt the room contract.
Claire looked at him. “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the last page?”
“No one knows.”
Ruth stood.
The movement was slow and careful, but Daniel saw the fear return to her face.
“Howard removed pages from things all the time,” she said. “He wrote notes on the backs. He carried them from room to room.”
Veronica watched her.
“You told Daniel the page had been destroyed.”
Ruth did not answer.
Daniel uncrossed his arms.
“When did she tell me that?”
“The morning after Howard died.”
“I was with her most of that morning.”
“Not in the laundry room.”
Ruth walked toward the pantry. Daniel stepped into her path.
“Ruth.”
“I need water.”
“I’ll get it.”
“I am capable of pouring water.”
Her voice was steady, but her left hand had begun to shake again.
Daniel took a glass from the cabinet and filled it. Ruth accepted it without thanking him. She drank half, then held it against her cardigan.
Claire said, “Did you destroy the last page?”
“No.”
“Did you see it after Howard signed?”
Ruth looked at the water.
“Yes.”
Veronica rose.
Daniel pointed at the stool. “Sit.”
“No.”
“Sit down.”
“The launcher is empty.”
“This is not about the launcher.”
“It is entirely about the launcher to you because it is the only part of today that lets you feel innocent.”
Daniel stepped closer.
Claire moved between them.
Not completely. She did not put herself in front of Veronica the way Daniel had put himself in front of the island. She stood at an angle where she could see both of them.
“Everyone stays where they are,” she said.
Daniel looked at his daughter.
She had spoken quietly. That made the authority in her voice more difficult to resist.
Ruth lowered herself onto a stool. Veronica remained standing but did not move closer.
Claire pointed to the scorched rug.
“She fired a flare because I told her the witness page was inside the vase.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You knew about the missing page.”
“I knew Veronica was looking for it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I found an email she sent you.”
“In my account?”
“Printed in your desk.”
Daniel remembered it. Three months earlier, Veronica had written that Howard’s completed amendment included a notarized statement confirming his competence and intent. She accused Daniel of suppressing it. Daniel had printed the email because reading accusations on paper made them feel less immediate. He never answered.
“I didn’t know whether the page existed,” Claire continued. “When she picked up the candlestick, I told her Ruth had hidden it in the vase. I thought she’d go look.”
“Instead she got the flare launcher.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Veronica looked toward the shattered ceramic.
“Because the vase was sealed at the neck.”
Ruth’s glass slipped in her hands. Water spilled down her skirt.
Daniel followed Veronica’s gaze.
The vase had been decorative rather than functional. Ruth placed flowers in a narrow glass tube that fit inside the opening. The ceramic body was hollow but inaccessible unless broken.
“You thought the page was inside,” Daniel said.
“Claire said Ruth had sealed it there.”
“And instead of dropping the vase?”
“It was too heavy.”
“It weighed six pounds.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No,” Daniel said. “You were thinking very clearly. You cut the communication lines. You disabled the security backup. You took Claire’s phone. You opened the safety drawer. You loaded a launcher—”
“It was already loaded.”
“—and fired it inside a room full of people.”
“I aimed away from them.”
May you like
“You aimed three feet from my head.”
“I knew you would move.”
