Part 6
Ms. Feld’s voice was courteous and brisk. She said Celeste regretted the physical contact. She described the slap as an isolated emotional response to a frightening incident. She asked whether Evelyn would consider resolving the assault complaint privately.
“No.”
“There would, of course, be compensation.”
“No.”
“I have not stated an amount.”
“You don’t need to.”
Ms. Feld paused. “Your employment situation may become complicated.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It is an observation. Private service depends heavily on references. Even when no one has done anything wrong, association with a public scandal can be damaging.”
“Your client hit me.”
“My client believes you misinterpreted a harmless act and staged a confrontation rather than asking a simple question.”
“What harmless act?”
“That will be addressed through the appropriate process.”
“You mean you haven’t invented it yet.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose.
Ms. Feld’s courtesy disappeared. “I suggest you retain counsel before making defamatory statements.”
“You called me.”
“And I will not call again.”
The line ended.
By noon, two news vans were parked outside the gates of Blackwater Point.
No official had released a statement. The sheriff’s office said only that it was investigating a reported domestic incident at a private residence. That was enough. Conrad Vale’s name carried weight in Maine because his grandfather had built shipping terminals, his father had built hotels, and Conrad had spent thirty years converting inherited influence into real-estate investments and philanthropic boards.
A local website published a photograph of the estate beneath the headline MYSTERY MEDICAL INCIDENT AT VALE ANNIVERSARY DINNER. An hour later, another outlet quoted an unnamed source describing a household employee who had “attacked” a guest during a dispute over alcohol.
Evelyn read the article in Martin’s kitchen.
“I wasn’t a household employee in the headline,” she said. “I was a servant in the third paragraph.”
Martin set a bowl of soup in front of her. “Do not read comments.”
“I already did.”
“That was unwise.”
“One man thinks I’m Conrad’s mistress. Another thinks I’m an undocumented Canadian trying to steal the estate.”
“You are from New Hampshire.”
“I don’t think accuracy is the project.”
Her mother called before she finished the soup.
Marianne Marsh lived outside Portsmouth and had learned of the incident from a customer at the dental office where she worked. She began the call by asking whether Evelyn was safe, then moved quickly to whether she had been arrested, whether Conrad had touched her, whether Celeste had powerful relatives, and why Evelyn had not simply poured the champagne into a sink.
“I don’t know,” Evelyn said for the fifth time.
“You always think too much around people with money.”
“That is a very specific criticism.”
“Because I have watched you do it since college.”
“I didn’t know people with money in college.”
“You worked at that hotel.”
“It had a conference center.”
“It had rich people.”
Evelyn pressed her fingers to her forehead.
Her mother’s voice softened. “Come home.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it looks like I did something wrong.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone is not offering you a bed.”
Evelyn looked at Martin, who was sorting household keys at the counter as if he could not hear.
“I need to stay near the investigation.”
“Police have telephones in New Hampshire.”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I stopped him from drinking it.”
The sentence broke something open. Evelyn had not cried when Celeste struck her, or at the station, or alone in the garage apartment. Now tears came without drama, slipping down while she stared at a bowl of soup she did not want.
Marianne became quiet.
“You were scared,” she said.
“Yes.”
“But you did it.”
“Yes.”
“Then come home because you need rest, not because you did something wrong.”
Evelyn wiped her face with the heel of her hand.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Which means no.”
“It means I’ll think about it.”
“Your father used to say that.”
“Dad used to say everything.”
“I know.”
They stayed on the phone another minute without speaking. In the background at her mother’s house, a washing machine entered its spin cycle.
The laboratory results did not arrive that day, or the next.
The packet contained too little residue for immediate field identification. The decanter and spilled champagne went to the state laboratory. The sheriff’s office requested medical records with Conrad’s consent and collected bottles, medications, supplements, and drink mixes from the estate.
Celeste remained at Blackwater Point under no legal restriction. Conrad moved to a hotel in Camden, though he told the staff it was for privacy. His attorneys advised him not to remove Celeste from the property until they reviewed ownership and occupancy rights. The estate had been his before their marriage, but she had lived there eight years and received mail there. Nothing was simple merely because he was angry.
Evelyn’s paid leave continued.
On the third morning, she retrieved more clothing from the carriage-house apartment under a deputy’s supervision. The estate seemed altered by restraint. Employees spoke in low voices. Doors that were usually open were closed. No one played the kitchen radio.
Elise from housekeeping hugged Evelyn in the laundry room, then immediately stepped back as if worried the gesture might be witnessed.
“I knew she could be cruel,” Elise whispered. “I didn’t know this.”
“You don’t know this yet.”
“I saw the video online.”
Evelyn stared at her. “What?”
“Only a still image. Someone posted it.”
The leaked image showed Celeste beside the drinks table, her hand extended over the decanter. It had been taken from Evelyn’s video. The picture was grainy but recognizable.
By the time Evelyn reached the carriage house, three reporters were shouting questions through the estate gates.
Only the sheriff’s office, the district attorney, Evelyn, and attorneys for both Vales had received copies of the video.
Martin found her standing in the middle of her apartment with an empty duffel bag.
“You did not leak it,” he said.
It was phrased as fact, but the need to say it hurt.
May you like
“No.”
“I believe you.”
