Part 5
“I can’t treat nineteenth-century paper remotely.”
A pause.
“We can find administrative work.”
“You mean you don’t want donors seeing me.”
“That is not how I would put it.”
“It’s how I would put it.”
The director sighed. “Helena, I’m trying to protect your position.”
She looked at the untouched yogurt on the desk. “From whom?”
He did not answer.
After the call she stood at the window and watched a man in the parking lot scrape bird droppings from the hood of his car with a folded fast-food napkin. He worked at the stain for several minutes, stopped, inspected it from different angles, and began again.
Helena wanted to be annoyed by the uselessness of his effort. Instead she envied him.
Mara called before noon.
“The security clip was released by someone with access to the house system,” she said. “We are preserving the complete footage.”
“Does the complete footage show what happened?”
“The bedroom camera covers the doorway and part of the room. It does not show the location beside the bed clearly. The hallway camera shows you trying the handle from inside after the door closed. It also shows Mrs. Bell outside the room and your husband arriving.”
“Can you release that?”
“No.”
“His lawyer can release eight seconds, but you can’t release the part that helps me?”
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is evidence in an active investigation. I am not going to conduct the case through local television.”
Helena sat on the edge of the desk chair. “He already is.”
“Yes.”
The blunt agreement steadied her more than reassurance would have.
Mara continued. “I need you to come in this afternoon. We obtained authority to collect the blue folder and your suitcase. I want you present when we inventory your belongings.”
“Did he touch the folder?”
“It was where you said it would be.”
“Did he go back to the house?”
“Not yet. He is staying with his attorney.”
Helena looked at her bandage. “Is there enough to charge him?”
“There is enough to continue investigating. The prosecutor will make charging decisions. The current incident and your mother-in-law’s death are related in motive, but they require separate proof.”
“You believe me.”
Mara waited before answering.
“I believe you were injured. I believe you tried to leave. I saw his hand around your wrist. The documents require verification. Belief is not the same as proof, and proof is not the same as a complete explanation.”
Helena closed her eyes.
“That sounds like something Edmund would say.”
“It is something detectives say when they do not want to make promises they cannot keep.”
At the house, yellow evidence tape crossed the bedroom door. It looked theatrical against the cream walls.
Helena entered with Mara and a crime-scene technician. Noah was in the downstairs library with another officer. Mrs. Bell had gone to stay with her niece after giving a longer statement.
The bedroom had been left almost exactly as Helena remembered. The lamp remained on. Her glass of water stood on the bedside table. Edmund’s robe hung behind the wardrobe door.
Her suitcase lay open on the bench at the foot of the bed. Inside were three dresses, underwear, a toiletry bag, two pairs of shoes, and the blue folder. Helena had packed badly. One dress sleeve was caught beneath a shoe.
The technician photographed everything before touching it.
Mara asked Helena to identify which items were hers. Helena pointed without entering the room farther than necessary.
The blue folder was removed with gloved hands and placed inside a paper evidence bag.
“Why paper?” Helena asked.
“Moisture,” the technician said.
He sounded bored, which comforted her.
Mara opened the wardrobe after it had been photographed. The robe hung straight. The velvet box containing Edmund’s chain sat on a shelf.
“Was he wearing this when he restrained you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Was he wearing it when you first entered the room?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you enter?”
“He sent me a message from Mrs. Bell’s phone. He said she had fallen.”
Mara looked at her.
Helena took out her phone and found the message.
Please come upstairs. Mrs. Bell fell near the bed. Don’t alarm Noah yet.
The message had arrived at 10:41 p.m.
“I thought Mrs. Bell was hurt,” Helena said. “When I came in, she wasn’t here. Edmund locked the door and asked what I had taken from the sewing room.”
“Why use Mrs. Bell’s phone?”
“He said his was charging.”
“Did Mrs. Bell send the message?”
“She told me this morning that he asked to borrow her phone. He said he needed to call the kitchen because his had no signal.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
The technician photographed the message.
On the dresser sat a silver-backed hairbrush that had belonged to Margaret. Helena had cataloged it two weeks earlier. Several pale hairs remained caught in the bristles. She remembered deciding whether to remove them before storage and then feeling ashamed for thinking of hair as debris.
“Do you need a minute?” Mara asked.
“No.”
“You can take one anyway.”
Helena looked around the room. Edmund’s framed photographs remained in precise rows. Margaret appeared in seven of them, growing older while Edmund’s expression barely changed. In the latest picture, taken at a winter charity gala, Margaret’s right wrist was covered by a wide silver bracelet she almost never wore.
Helena had noticed the bracelet months ago. She had not understood why it bothered her.
She took her minute.
Downstairs, Noah sat in the library wearing jeans and yesterday’s shirt. A mug of coffee cooled beside him. He stood when Helena entered, then stopped as though uncertain whether standing itself might pressure her.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
“I know.”
“I’m taking my car.”
“I moved it out front.”
“Thank you.”
May you like
He nodded.
The library windows overlooked the lawn. Rain had flattened the grass. A groundskeeper drove slowly along the far hedge, collecting fallen branches as if the house were not on every local news station.
