Part 9
Daniel looked at her.
“I was told it was a personal loan.”
“The acknowledgment says Howard informed you the money related to the development.”
“That’s not true.”
Ruth’s gaze dropped.
Daniel turned toward her.
“Is that what it says?”
“It says Howard believed you understood.”
“That is different.”
“It may be.”
“You were there when he dictated it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say he told me?”
“He said you knew enough.”
Daniel stepped back from the desk.
The office seemed suddenly too warm. He remembered Howard calling him into the library two months before his death, a decanter open between them though it was not yet noon. Howard said Veronica had created a temporary problem with some “small investors” and needed a transfer. Daniel asked whether the foundation was exposed. Howard said, Not if you stop asking questions designed to make the answer worse.
Daniel had stopped.
He told himself the personal account was outside his responsibility.
He told himself Howard was still chairman and could spend his own money.
He told himself that knowing enough was not the same as knowing.
Claire watched the recognition cross his face.
“You did know.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“I knew there was a problem. I did not know the foundation had received private money.”
“But you didn’t ask.”
Daniel sat on the edge of the desk.
“No.”
Ruth wiped her palms on her skirt.
“Howard knew you would protect the foundation,” she said. “He also knew Veronica would protect herself. He believed if I kept the acknowledgment, one of you would eventually tell the truth without being forced.”
Veronica looked toward the darkening window.
“He always did mistake delay for wisdom.”
Ruth’s voice hardened. “He was trying to give you time to return the money.”
“I didn’t have it.”
“You had some of it.”
“I used what remained to pay the investors.”
“How much remained?” Daniel asked.
Veronica hesitated.
“Seventy-three thousand.”
“And the rest?”
“Expenses.”
“What expenses?”
“Legal advice. Travel. Interest. The apartment.”
“You used money Howard transferred for repayment to save your apartment?”
“I needed somewhere to live.”
“You were living here.”
“Until you told me to leave.”
“After Howard died.”
“Four days after.”
“The trustees instructed me to secure the property.”
“The trustees did not tell you to change the west-wing locks while I was at the funeral home.”
Daniel looked away.
He had done that.
He had told himself Veronica might remove art or documents. He had arranged for her suitcases to be packed by staff and sent to a hotel. When she returned from signing funeral paperwork, her key no longer worked.
Claire said, “You threw her out before anyone reviewed the amendment.”
“I did not know about it then.”
“But you knew Howard might have left her something.”
“He had made promises to everyone.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it is true.”
“It is also convenient.”
Daniel looked at his daughter.
She was pale, and the antiseptic had left a yellow stain near the scratch. She seemed exhausted rather than frightened now. He preferred the fear. Fear allowed him to protect her. Exhaustion required him to hear her.
Claire raised the phone again.
“There’s a signal.”
Veronica moved toward her.
Daniel stood.
Veronica stopped.
“Before you call,” she said, “you should understand what happens.”
Claire’s thumb hovered above the screen.
“You fired a weapon.”
“A flare launcher.”
“At people.”
“At the fireplace.”
“You cut the communications line.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened us with a candlestick.”
“I held it.”
“Over my head.”
“You were on the other side of the island.”
“You raised it.”
“Yes.”
Claire’s voice remained level. “What exactly do you think I do not understand?”
Veronica looked at Daniel.
“The police will search the house. They will take the launcher, the casing, the note, the amendment, and anything connected to motive. The foundation’s records will become relevant. Howard’s acknowledgment will not remain private.”
“It shouldn’t,” Claire said.
“Your father may lose his position.”
Daniel said, “That is not her responsibility.”
“The foundation may collapse.”
“That is not hers either.”
“Howard’s name will be destroyed.”
Ruth laughed unexpectedly.
Everyone turned toward her.
She covered her mouth with the handkerchief, but the laugh came again, dry and astonished.
“His name,” she said. “We have nearly set the house on fire, and we are still arranging ourselves around Howard’s name.”
Veronica stared at her.
Ruth shook her head.
“I am sorry. There is nothing funny.”
“There is,” Claire said. “A little.”
Daniel looked at them, unable to join.
The room had grown dim enough that the lake reflected in the windows. The house lights remained off, though the kitchen behind them was still bright from the emergency circuits. Somewhere in the walls, the heating system started with a soft metallic knock.
Claire completed the call.
The phone rang once.
Then the signal dropped.
She tried again.
No service.
Veronica released a breath.
Daniel noticed.
“So that was your plan,” he said.
“What?”
“Delay until the signal failed.”
“I didn’t control it.”
“You cut the external cable.”
“I wanted time to find the acknowledgment.”
“And then?”
Veronica looked at the document box.
“Then I was going to leave.”
“With the amendment.”
“With what Howard intended for me.”
“And the acknowledgment?”
“If I found it.”
“To destroy it?”
“To understand it.”
“You fired a flare at the vase.”
“I thought the brass container would survive.”
Daniel stared at her.
“That was why you used the launcher.”
Veronica’s eyes moved to the floor.
Claire said, “You knew there was a brass tube.”
“I had seen Howard put it inside.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“Why didn’t you just break the vase?”
“Ruth never left it unattended.”
Ruth looked offended despite everything. “I sleep.”
“You moved it into the pantry at night.”
“Because you wandered downstairs after drinking.”
“I was looking for it.”
“For six months?”
“For the first week. After Daniel put me out, I couldn’t get back inside.”
May you like
“And today?” Claire asked. “Why not break it before Ruth came in?”
“I thought the tube was empty.”
