Chương 6
Vivienne handed him the letter.
He read more quickly. “This could be authenticated.”
Mara looked at him. “You say that as though it might be fake.”
“I say it because authentication protects you as much as us.”
“From what?”
“Claims that you fabricated it. Claims that my aunt influenced you. Claims that the foundation concealed evidence. Claims from insurers, heirs, former employees, collectors, and anyone who believes Bellavere owes them money.”
Jo stared at him. “How many enemies can one dead man have?”
“Lucien? Fewer than Bellavere.”
Vivienne looked around the kitchen. On the counter sat Emil’s chipped mug with WORLD’S OKAYEST DAD printed on it. Mara had bought it as a joke when she was fifteen. He had used it every morning afterward.
“What was he like?” Vivienne asked.
“Emil?”
“Yes.”
Mara had expected questions about dates, scars, blood types, and records. The simplicity of this one left her briefly without an answer.
“He snored,” she said.
Vivienne blinked.
“He put hot sauce on eggs. He repaired things that should have been thrown away. He did impressions of customers from the motel, but only after they left. He hated being photographed. He thought every problem could be improved by soup.”
Jo added, “His soup was terrible.”
“It was.”
“He gave me a jar once,” Jo said to Vivienne. “I still think about it when something smells burned.”
Mara smiled despite herself.
Vivienne’s face softened. “He was funny when he was young. Not constantly. He could become solemn over a broken hinge. But Lucien trusted him because Emil never laughed at the wrong person.”
The warmth vanished from Mara’s expression. “Then why did your family call him a kidnapper?”
Vivienne looked down at her gloves.
“My husband’s cousin, Henri, managed Bellavere’s finances and security. After the fire, he told investigators that Emil had stolen the pendant, jewelry from Sofia’s room, and several inventory books. My husband repeated it. I signed a statement confirming the pendant was missing.”
“Was any other jewelry missing?”
“I do not know.”
“You signed without knowing?”
“Yes.”
The answer was so direct that Mara lost the sentence she had prepared.
Vivienne continued. “I had been sedated. That is not an excuse. I had lost my son, his wife, and, I believed, my granddaughter. Reporters were outside. My husband said Emil had betrayed us. I signed where he pointed.”
“Did you ever take it back?”
“No.”
“Did you look for him?”
“No.”
“Then he spent twenty-two years hiding because you were grieving.”
Vivienne’s face tightened, but she did not defend herself.
Adrien did. “My aunt was also being controlled by people who withheld information.”
“She was still rich,” Mara said. “Emil worked two jobs and checked the street every time I left for school.”
“Wealth does not make every choice free.”
“No. It just pays for more choices.”
Adrien’s mouth closed.
Vivienne turned to him. “She is right.”
“She is partly right.”
“She is entirely right about what my signature cost him.”
Mara pushed Lucien’s letter across the table. “What is the lake catalogue?”
Vivienne read the final line again.
“There is a painting,” she said. “A view of Bellavere from the water, painted by Lucien’s great-grandmother. The family called it The Painted Lake. It hung in the north residence.”
“Did it burn?”
“No. Henri removed several paintings during the fire.”
“How convenient.”
Vivienne’s eyes sharpened. “Yes.”
Adrien leaned back. “The painting was in last night’s auction.”
Mara stared at him.
“Lot Twelve,” he said. “The auction stopped before bidding reached it.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Jo looked from one face to another. “I am not an art person, but when a dead man says a painted lake keeps something, and the painting is about to be sold, perhaps you should not sell it.”
“It has been withdrawn,” Adrien said.
“Before or after you read the letter?”
“After the incident. My aunt ordered the entire auction suspended.”
Vivienne stood and walked to the sink. Through the window, the yard sloped toward a stand of pines. An old plastic bird feeder turned slowly on its wire.
“Lucien had been arguing with his father before the fire,” she said. “He believed works were disappearing from the collection. Henri said the records were inaccurate because the family had sold pieces privately for decades. My husband told Lucien to stop embarrassing us.”
“Was Lucien right?” Mara asked.
“I did not want to know.”
“That seems to happen a lot in your family.”
Vivienne looked back at her. “Yes.”
The acknowledgment was not satisfying. Mara wanted the countess to protest, so she could remain angry without complication.
Adrien opened his folder. “There is another matter. With your permission, we would like to arrange DNA testing.”
Jo’s chair scraped slightly.
Mara touched the pendant. “You brought a kit?”
“No. I brought information about laboratories and privacy protections.”
“You researched this overnight.”
“I did not sleep.”
“That doesn’t make me trust you.”
“It was not intended to.”
Vivienne returned to the table. “You may refuse.”
“What happens if I do?”
“Nothing,” Vivienne said.
Adrien answered at the same time. “Speculation continues.”
They looked at each other.
Mara almost smiled. “At least one of you is honest by accident.”
Adrien closed the folder. “If the test confirms a biological relationship, your life will become more complicated. If it does not, your life may still remain complicated because some people will say the result was manipulated. Privacy is already damaged. I cannot promise to repair that.”
“What can you promise?”
“That Bellavere will pay the cost without controlling the laboratory. You may choose independent counsel. Results will be delivered to you directly. We will not release them without your consent.”
“And if I am her granddaughter?”
Adrien’s gaze moved briefly toward Vivienne. “Then there will be legal questions.”
“Money.”
“Among other things.”
“I don’t want Bellavere.”
“You do not yet know what Bellavere is.”
“I saw it last night.”
May you like
“You saw a party.”
Mara looked at Vivienne. “Do you want me because I might be Céleste, or because you have no one else?”
