Part 4
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Did you fall?”
“Not the first time.”
Evelyn waited.
“He caught my vest,” Owen said. “He thought I had taken a picture.”
“Had you?”
“No.”
“Did you try?”
“I texted Mr. Alden.”
The older butler spoke for the first time.
“I received a message asking me to return to the foyer.”
“Where were you?” Evelyn asked.
“In the wine room, confirming inventory for dinner.”
“Did you see Julian open the cabinet?”
“No.”
“Did you see the first shove?”
“No.”
“What did you see?”
Mr. Alden looked toward Owen.
The young man nodded once.
“I entered as Mr. Cross had him against the console,” the butler said. “Mr. Mercer’s back struck the edge. Mr. Cross released him when I spoke.”
“And then?”
“Mr. Mercer said he intended to leave.”
Owen’s fingers closed around the handkerchief.
“Mr. Cross told him he would not be paid if he left before cleaning the floor.”
Evelyn looked at Owen.
“Why did you kneel?”
“He said I broke it.”
“Did you?”
Owen’s face flushed.
“I knocked it after he pushed me. My elbow hit the bar.”
“The decanter was on the edge.”
“Yes.”
“Who placed it there?”
“Mr. Cross.”
“Why?”
“He was trying to take my phone.”
Julian had placed the heavy crystal piece down to free one hand.
Owen continued.
“When I moved back, it fell.”
“Did he cut your lip?”
“I hit the console.”
“Because he shoved you.”
“Yes.”
The distinction mattered. Not because it made Julian less responsible, but because Evelyn did not want anger to turn evidence into something cleaner than reality.
“What did he say after it broke?”
Owen’s eyes filled again.
“He laughed.”
Mr. Alden looked down.
“He said I had just bought myself a year of work.”
Evelyn felt heat rise behind her face.
Owen mistook her silence.
“I shouldn’t have touched the bar. I know that.”
“You were trying to protect your phone.”
“Yes.”
“Did he take it?”
Owen reached into his trouser pocket and removed a black phone with a cracked corner.
The screen was dark.
“He dropped it in the wine.”
“Does it work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give it to Dr. Shaw.”
Owen looked confused.
“She has dry bags in her medical kit,” Evelyn said. “Do not turn it on yet.”
Dr. Shaw accepted the phone.
“Was anything recorded?” Evelyn asked.
“No. I only texted.”
“Were there messages before tonight between you and Mr. Cross?”
“No.”
“Had you met him before?”
Owen hesitated.
Evelyn noticed.
“When?”
“At the garage two weeks ago.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer is protecting someone.”
Owen’s cheeks reddened.
“I parked his car.”
“Which car?”
“The silver coupe.”
Julian leased a silver Aston Martin through a Vale Development transportation subsidiary. The use arrangement permitted business travel and limited personal mileage.
“What happened?” Evelyn asked.
“He said there was a scratch on the driver’s door.”
“Was there?”
“Yes, but it was there when he arrived. I wrote it on the intake card.”
“Did he dispute it?”
“He said I added it afterward.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Was there camera footage?”
“The garage manager checked. It showed the scratch when he entered.”
“And?”
Owen shifted in the chair.
“Mr. Cross said I had embarrassed him in front of his guest.”
“What guest?”
“A woman.”
Evelyn’s body became very still.
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Description?”
Owen looked toward Mr. Alden as if asking whether the question was permitted.
“Answer her,” the butler said gently.
“Blonde. Maybe thirty. White coat. Red shoes.”
The room narrowed.
Not because Julian had been seen with a woman. Evelyn had spent enough years around wealthy men to understand that a blonde woman beside a silver car could be an assistant, client, friend, cousin, investor, lawyer, or lover.
It narrowed because Julian had told her he spent that evening alone at the Yale Club preparing for a presentation.
“What time?” Evelyn asked.
“Around nine.”
“What date?”
Owen told her.
Evelyn remembered the date immediately.
She had called Julian from Chicago at nine fifteen. He answered after the fourth ring and whispered that he was in the library.
Behind him, she had heard a car door close.
She had asked.
He said it was traffic outside.
The Yale Club library did not overlook a curb.
“What did the woman say?” Evelyn asked.
“Nothing.”
“Did Mr. Cross speak to her?”
“He told her to wait in the car.”
Owen looked ashamed, as though he had become responsible for Evelyn learning something painful.
She gave him time.
“Did he threaten you then?” she asked.
“He said temporary workers who challenge clients don’t last in Manhattan.”
“Did you report it?”
“To the garage manager.”
“What happened?”
“My shifts were cut.”
Evelyn looked at Mr. Alden.
The butler’s face tightened.
“The garage contractor changed staffing after a complaint from Mr. Cross’s office,” he said.
“His office contacted them?”
“Yes.”
“Who authorized that?”
“I do not know.”
Evelyn knew.
Someone within Vale Development had treated Julian’s request as hers.
That was the danger of proximity to power. A man did not need formal authority if everyone assumed refusing him might offend the woman who held it.
Owen stared at the floor.
“I needed tonight’s shift,” he said. “They told me if I did well here, I could get back on regular rotation.”
“And Julian recognized you.”
“Yes.”
“He asked whether you enjoyed working indoors.”
Owen’s mouth moved around something close to humiliation.
“Yes.”
Evelyn stood.
“Owen, Dr. Shaw will arrange imaging if you need it. The staffing company will pay your full shift, medical costs, and an additional week while we investigate retaliation.”
His eyes widened.
“I’m not asking for—”
“I know.”
“I don’t want anyone fired because of me.”
“That decision will not be because of you.”
He looked toward the library door.
“Is he going to come in here?”
“No.”
The certainty in her voice seemed to steady him.
Evelyn turned to Mr. Alden.
May you like
“Stay with him. Write down everything you remember separately. Do not compare accounts.”
The butler inclined his head.
