Chương 5
“You brought proxy papers to the pediatric floor.”
“I brought an option.”
“You brought the board vote.”
“I brought reality.”
Celeste took the folder and dropped it into the trash beside his chair.
Malcolm watched it land on a paper coffee cup.
“That was childish.”
“My child is in that room.”
“The company employs three hundred and twelve people. The Harbor sale covers debt, pension obligations, and two years of foundation commitments. Graham’s plan for a pediatric respite center was never financially complete.”
“He bought that land for it.”
“He bought that land because Graham bought things when he felt guilty.”
Celeste stood.
Malcolm lowered his voice. “If authorities question your fitness, the family trust committee can seek an interim proxy without your consent.”
“Tell Beatrice to try.”
“She would prefer not to.”
“Then she should stop sending lawyers to my son’s hospital room.”
Malcolm remained seated. “You still think this is about preference.”
Celeste walked into Oliver’s room and closed the door.
By afternoon, the gala footage had become more important than the boy in it.
Television stations played a guest’s phone video on a loop. Oliver appeared small in the vast hall, walking between tables. He paused, swayed, and disappeared behind two standing guests. Celeste crossed the frame. The video ended before she reached him.
Commentators discussed her speed, her gown, her expression. One former prosecutor said her composure could indicate training or foreknowledge. A parenting influencer said the same composure reflected maternal instinct. Neither had met her. Both used photographs from Graham’s funeral.
Celeste switched off the hospital television.
Oliver was awake enough to eat crackers. He broke each one into four pieces and arranged them on the tray before eating.
“You missed the speech,” he said.
“There was no speech.”
“You practiced it in the bathroom.”
“That does not mean anyone heard it.”
“Was it good?”
“No.”
“You said Harbor House would be where children could be sick without their parents losing their jobs.”
“That was one sentence.”
“It was the best one.”
Celeste poured water into a plastic cup. “You were listening outside the door.”
“You talk loudly when you think you’re whispering.”
He ate another quarter of a cracker.
“Is Grandmother mad?”
“Why would she be?”
“I didn’t finish the cider.”
Celeste set the pitcher down too hard. Water jumped over the rim.
Oliver looked at it.
“Sorry,” she said.
“You said no one cared about the glass.”
“No one does.”
“But you care about the cider.”
She sat beside him. “I care about what made you sick.”
He considered that.
“Grandmother said my stomach was jumping because of the people.”
“When did she say that?”
“Before I walked.”
“Where were you?”
“Near the roses.”
“What did she do?”
Oliver’s fingers stopped over the cracker pieces.
Celeste forced herself to lean back. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“She had a little bottle.”
The room seemed to narrow around his voice.
“What kind?”
“Brown. Like your old medicine.”
“Did she put something in your drink?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. She held it near the glass.”
“What did she say?”
“That I needed to be quiet while you talked.”
Celeste stood and moved toward the door.
Oliver’s face changed. “Are you leaving?”
She stopped with her hand on the handle.
“No.”
“You look like you’re leaving.”
“I was going to get the detective.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Grandmother will know I told.”
The fear in his voice was not loud. That made it worse.
Celeste returned to the chair.
“She cannot punish you for telling the truth.”
“She doesn’t punish. She gets disappointed.”
He said it with the weary precision of a child reciting a rule adults had taught him without knowing.
Celeste reached for his hand. “That feeling is not your job to prevent.”
Oliver looked at their fingers.
“Is it yours?”
She did not answer quickly enough.
That evening, Adrian visited the hospital out of uniform. He wore a dark suit and carried no flowers. He stood near the window until Celeste finished speaking with a nurse, then closed the door halfway.
“The local recording is intact,” he said.
“Does it show who touched his drink?”
“It shows several people near it.”
“Who?”
“The detective asked me not to discuss the evidence.”
“I am his mother.”
“That does not make you the investigator.”
“It makes me the person being blamed.”
“I know.”
Celeste studied his face. “What does it show?”
Adrian looked toward Oliver, who was asleep with one hand beneath his cheek.
“It shows Mr. Reed carrying a silver tray from the north table. One glass on it has a blue cocktail marker.”
“Oliver’s lapel flower was blue.”
“Yes.”
“Who put the glass on the tray?”
“The angle is partly blocked by a column.”
“Partly?”
“A woman is visible. Not her face.”
“What is visible?”
“Her right hand.”
Celeste thought of the onyx ring clicking against the hospital rail.
“Was she wearing a ring?”
Adrian’s silence answered.
“Beatrice.”
“The image is not sufficient for identification.”
“She wears that ring every day.”
“A ring can be removed, borrowed, copied, or misidentified.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“What I believe is irrelevant to what the recording proves.”
“What else?”
“The woman placed an object into your clutch.”
Celeste sat down.
Adrian continued, quieter. “The clutch was on a chair near the north table. She leaned over it for approximately four seconds.”
“And the server footage?”
“Interrupted during that period.”
“Who interrupted it?”
“We don’t know.”
“You have suspicions.”
“I have a list.”
“Is Beatrice on it?”
“Everyone with access, influence, or reason to interfere is on it.”
“Elias?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
Celeste looked up.
Adrian’s posture remained straight, but fatigue had roughened his voice. “My credentials could have been used. My backup camera was not authorized. I pointed it out publicly, which may have warned whoever interfered with the main system. I am not exempt from scrutiny because I know how to stand still.”
“Why did you install it?”
“Insurance recommendation.”
May you like
“Without permission?”
“The venue owner refused the expense.”
