Chương 10
“I’m unemployed.”
They drove back through a light rain.
The chapel doors were unlocked.
Inside, only the altar lamps were lit. The casket remained where the paramedics had left it, lid raised, side panel open. Police tape crossed the aisle, but someone had detached one end and folded it neatly over a bench.
Celeste stood beside the casket.
She had changed into a charcoal dress and removed her pearls. Without them, a faint crease showed at the base of her throat.
She held the false silver crest in one gloved hand.
“You should be at the hospital,” Julian said.
“So should you.”
“He wrote your name.”
Celeste closed her fingers around the crest.
Nora remained near the doors.
The widow looked at her. “You are not permitted here.”
“I know.”
“That has never troubled you as much as it should.”
Julian stepped over the tape. “What does ‘not Celeste alone’ mean?”
His mother’s face changed.
“You showed him a photograph?”
“He wrote it.”
“Julian, your father’s brain has been injured.”
“He recognized you.”
“He was afraid.”
“Of you?”
“Of dying.”
“He was inside a coffin.”
Celeste turned toward the open lid.
Rain tapped the stained-glass windows. The sound was soft and irregular, enough like fingernails that Nora had to press her hands together.
“I did not put him there,” Celeste said.
Julian’s shoulders dropped slightly.
“But you knew someone planned to,” Nora said.
Celeste looked at her with exhausted hatred.
“Be quiet.”
“No.”
Julian turned. “Nora.”
“She knew the casket was delivered before he died.”
His gaze returned to his mother.
Celeste set the false crest on the casket lid.
“Your father had become impossible,” she said. “He accused everyone. He changed instructions hourly. He threatened to dissolve the trust, close the foundation, sell the company, then claimed we were selling things without him. He hid documents. He called strangers. He wandered outside at night.”
“He met Owen Mercer,” Julian said.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “You found him.”
“The police did.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“What did Malcolm tell you?”
She walked to the first bench and sat.
For once, she did not arrange her skirt before lowering herself.
“He said Arthur needed supervised treatment. A private clinic outside Montreal. Quiet, secure, no press. Arthur would refuse if asked. Malcolm said Dr. Baird could sedate him safely and arrange transport.”
“In a casket?” Julian asked.
“No.”
The answer came sharply.
Celeste pressed a hand against her forehead.
“Malcolm told me Arthur would be moved Wednesday morning in a medical vehicle. We would announce a health retreat. Then, before dawn, he said Arthur’s heart had stopped. Baird confirmed it. I saw him in bed.”
“Did you touch him?”
She looked up.
“Did you check whether he was breathing?” Julian asked.
“I am not a doctor.”
“Did you touch him?”
Celeste’s eyes filled, but no tears fell.
“I touched his face.”
“Was he cold?”
“He felt cold.”
Nora glanced toward the chapel heating vents. The casket interior had smelled medicinal, not preserved. Arthur could have been chilled deliberately to slow his pulse and breathing.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
Celeste ignored her.
Julian knelt in front of his mother. “Mom.”
“Malcolm said public knowledge of Arthur’s condition would collapse negotiations and expose the trust. He said we needed forty-eight hours to stabilize everything before announcing the death.”
“What negotiations?”
“The preserve sale.”
“You knew.”
“I knew the estate needed liquidity.”
“The estate has hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“The estate has assets. It has obligations. Your father had pledged money he did not have to projects he forgot approving.”
“Did you sign Malcolm’s transfers?”
“I signed what he placed before the board.”
Julian stood.
Celeste’s voice hardened. “Do not look at me as though you have spent your life examining every page anyone asked you to sign.”
“I don’t put people in coffins.”
“Neither did I.”
“But you agreed to lie about his death.”
“I believed he was dead.”
“You told Nora to close the panel when he knocked.”
Celeste’s face went still.
The rain filled the chapel.
Nora saw the answer before Celeste gave it.
“You heard it,” she said.
Celeste looked toward the casket.
“The first knock,” she whispered. “I thought it came from the panel.”
“And the second?” Julian asked.
Celeste pressed her lips together.
Julian stepped back from her.
“You heard him.”
“I did not know.”
“You heard him.”
“I had just watched thirty people enter this chapel to mourn him. The press was outside. Baird had signed papers. Malcolm said grief creates auditory distortions.”
“Malcolm said.”
“Yes.”
“Then Nora opened the lid.”
“Yes.”
“And you still tried to stop her.”
Celeste rose so quickly the bench struck the floor behind her.
“Because I was afraid.”
The words echoed.
She lowered her voice.
“I was afraid that he was alive. I was afraid he was dead. I was afraid that whatever happened, my life had already ended and everyone in this room would watch it happen.”
Julian’s face crumpled, not with sympathy but with the effort not to show it.
“You could have saved him.”
“Nora did.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” Celeste said. “It is the truth.”
A slow clap came from the chapel entrance.
Malcolm stood inside the doors.
His raincoat was open over a dark suit. Water shone on the shoulders.
“An extraordinary family meeting,” he said. “Even by Vale standards.”
Nora moved away from him.
Julian placed himself between Malcolm and Celeste.
“You lied about the clinic.”
Malcolm closed the doors.
“I simplified an unstable situation.”
“You drugged my father.”
“Dr. Baird administered prescribed medication.”
“You ordered a casket before he died.”
“Your father’s decline made advance planning prudent.”
“You stole the drive.”
Malcolm’s gaze shifted to Nora.
She saw calculation enter his face.
“What drive?”
“The one from the document case.”
“If your father entrusted data to a convicted fraudster, we have more to worry about than I thought.”
“The police found Owen’s backup,” Nora said.
May you like
Julian turned toward her.
She knew at once that she had made a mistake.
