Part 4
By sunrise, deputies had found Martin Bell, the missing gate guard, unconscious in a maintenance shed near the eastern hedge. He had been struck behind the head and sedated. His uniform jacket and access badge were gone.
The security logs showed that his badge had opened the glass garden corridor at eleven thirty-seven and the library garden entrance four minutes later. At eleven forty-six, the same badge had accessed the old tunnel beneath the boathouse.
No exit was recorded.
Sheriff Rusk ordered a search of the grounds.
The rain stopped shortly after six. Fog settled over the lawns and made the ocean disappear.
Celeste stood in the kitchen drinking coffee she did not taste while staff members whispered near the pantry. Whenever she turned, the whispers ended.
Owen Price entered carrying a tablet and a wet pair of gloves.
“We found the stolen security jacket in the boathouse tunnel,” he said.
“Anything else?”
“Footprints. Partial. Whoever it was changed shoes near the seawall.”
“Could they have gone out by boat?”
“The launch is still tied up. The small skiff was taken yesterday for repairs.”
“Then how did they leave?”
Owen set the tablet on the table. “They may not have.”
Celeste looked toward the ceiling as if she might see through three floors and twenty guest rooms.
“How many people remain in the house?”
“Staff and family, twenty-one.”
“Guests?”
“Two trustees stayed because the bridge road flooded. Mr. and Mrs. Kline.”
Celeste remembered Leonard Kline raising a glass at dinner, praising Edwin’s forty years of service. His wife had complained that the library smelled of damp wool.
“Search every room.”
“The sheriff is obtaining consent.”
“This is my house.”
“That doesn’t make everyone in it your property.”
Celeste stared at him.
Owen’s expression did not change. He was one of the few employees who had never learned to soften the truth before offering it to a Marrow.
She lifted her cup, discovered it was empty, and set it down again. “You’re right.”
The admission seemed to unsettle him more than anger would have.
“Miss Ortiz wants to leave,” he said.
Celeste’s body tightened. “The sheriff cleared her?”
“For now. Her sister is coming.”
“Is that wise?”
Owen glanced toward the doorway. “Wise for whom?”
Celeste followed his gaze.
Lena stood in the hall wearing jeans, a navy sweater, and flat black shoes. Without the uniform, she looked younger and less protected. She carried a small canvas bag over one shoulder.
The bruise on her arm showed beneath the sweater cuff.
Celeste crossed the kitchen.
“Lena.”
The housekeeper stopped but did not turn fully toward her.
“The road is still unstable,” Celeste said. “You could remain in the staff cottage until morning.”
“My sister has a truck.”
“The police may need you.”
“They have my number.”
Celeste heard herself constructing reasons to keep her nearby and despised each one.
“You’re right,” she said. “You should go wherever you feel safe.”
Lena looked at her then.
Celeste kept her hands at her sides. “Your wages will continue. You are not suspended.”
“I quit.”
The kitchen seemed to become very quiet.
“Lena.”
“I left the letter with Mrs. Hargrove.”
“You wrote a resignation letter tonight?”
“I had one already.”
Celeste felt something shift. “Since the tie pin?”
“Since before.”
“Why?”
Lena’s mouth tightened. “Because Mr. Vale asked me to.”
Celeste took a step closer. “Edwin told you to resign?”
“He said I was not suited to this household.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
Celeste searched her memory and found an image of Lena waiting outside the gallery office while Celeste argued with an auction insurer by phone. She had lifted one finger to indicate a minute. When the call ended, Edwin had appeared with a folder, and Lena had gone.
“You should have come back.”
“I came back twice.”
Celeste had no memory of either attempt.
Lena adjusted the strap of her bag.
“What reason did Edwin give?” Celeste asked.
“He said my work had become unreliable.”
“Had it?”
“No.”
“Did he mention the tie pin?”
“He said there were concerns about trust.”
Anger rose in Celeste, but it had nowhere clean to go. Edwin was unconscious in intensive care. Lena was standing before her because Edwin had survived only through her hands.
“Why were you still here if you planned to resign?”
“My mother’s cardiology appointment is next week. I needed the paycheck.”
Celeste looked down.
Lena’s sister honked from the front drive.
“I’m sorry,” Celeste said again.
“I believe you.”
The words offered no comfort.
Lena moved toward the door.
“Did Edwin seem afraid?” Celeste asked.
She stopped.
“In the last few days. Did he say anything strange?”
Lena considered this. “Yesterday he asked whether the camera in the corridor could record sound.”
“Did you answer?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“Why did he ask?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Anything else?”
“He started locking the library even when he was inside.”
“Edwin never locked it.”
“He did this week.”
Lena looked toward the front hall where her sister’s truck waited beyond the glass.
“On Tuesday,” she said, “I brought him tea. He was burning papers in the fireplace.”
“What papers?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“Did he notice you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He smiled.”
There was something in the way she said it.
“What kind of smile?”
“The kind people use when they want you to forget what you saw.”
Then Lena left.
At eight thirty, Sheriff Rusk asked Celeste to meet him in Edwin’s office.
The room had been searched. Drawers stood open. Files were stacked on the carpet. A deputy photographed the contents of a small wall safe.
Rusk held up an evidence bag containing a silver disk no larger than a coin.
“Do you recognize this?”
“No.”
“Encrypted storage device. We found it taped under the bottom drawer.”
“What’s on it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
May you like
Celeste looked at the open safe. “Edwin kept estate records here. Payroll, insurance, household accounts.”
“So I’m told.”
