Chương 12
Anna looked at Vincent.
“Anthony poured it.”
“He poured the wine,” Torres said. “That does not prove he contaminated the glass.”
“Who else touched it?”
“Multiple people could have.”
Vincent walked toward the window.
Anna watched his reflection in the glass.
For weeks, suspicion had spread outward through employees, security, executives and strangers.
Now it had circled back to family.
“What was Anthony angry about?” Anna asked.
Vincent did not turn.
“The company.”
“Specific.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“You really don’t let people hide behind nouns.”
“No.”
A tired smile appeared and vanished.
Vincent came back to the table.
“My father told Anthony he would run the real estate division one day.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because when my father got sick, lenders threatened to pull financing unless I consolidated control.”
“You took the position.”
“Yes.”
“Anthony blamed you.”
“Yes.”
“Was he qualified?”
Vincent’s answer took time.
“Sometimes.”
Anna almost laughed.
Torres did not.
Vincent continued, “He is good with people. Bad with risk. He makes decisions based on what he thinks reality should reward.”
“That sounds personal.”
“It is.”
“Did he lose money?”
“A great deal.”
“Recently?”
Vincent looked at Torres.
She answered.
“Anthony Moretti personally guaranteed loans tied to two developments that are under pressure.”
Anna understood.
“If Vincent dies, does Anthony get control?”
“Not directly,” Torres said. “But he gains a position on the trust committee and could influence asset sales.”
“Elise wants a sale.”
“Yes.”
“Anthony needs money.”
“Yes.”
“And Elise paid Craig.”
“Yes.”
Anna sat.
“So Elise and Anthony did it.”
Torres’s expression hardened.
“No.”
Anna lifted her hands.
“Right. Maybe.”
“Evidence, Anna.”
“I know.”
“Then act like it.”
The words stung.
Torres saw that but did not soften them.
“Your instinct saved a life,” she said. “That doesn’t make instinct proof.”
Anna looked away.
Vincent said nothing.
She appreciated him for that.
The following week nearly broke the case and then appeared to destroy it.
Police found security footage from the garage showing Anthony returning to the building seven minutes after he supposedly left.
He entered through the service level wearing the same coat.
He remained inside eleven minutes.
When confronted, Anthony admitted returning.
Not to poison Vincent.
To meet Elise.
They had been having an affair for nearly a year.
The revelation spread through Vincent’s family and company before detectives could contain it.
Elise was married.
Anthony was separated but still technically married.
Neither fact was criminal.
Both provided a reason for secret meetings, deleted messages and suspicious movements through service corridors.
It also made every earlier clue harder to interpret.
The garage return no longer pointed clearly toward murder.
The temporary phone line could have been used to hide personal messages.
Payments to Craig might have involved arrangements for private rooms rather than poisoning.
Anna sat in Vincent’s office three nights later while he poured two glasses of water and no alcohol.
His office overlooked the river.
It was less luxurious than she expected.
Too much dark wood. Too many files.
A small framed photograph sat behind his desk.
Two teenage boys standing beside an older man on a fishing boat.
Vincent noticed her looking.
“Anthony and me.”
“You look miserable.”
“I hated fishing.”
“Why go?”
“My father liked it.”
“Did Anthony?”
“He hated it more.”
Anna smiled.
Vincent sat.
“They say the affair explains everything suspicious.”
“Torres doesn’t.”
“No.”
“Do you?”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because adultery is easier than murder.”
Anna nodded.
He rubbed a thumb along the edge of the glass.
“Anthony called me today.”
“What did he say?”
“That I’m enjoying this.”
Anna frowned.
“Enjoying what?”
“Watching him humiliate himself.”
“Are you?”
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
The answer was too immediate.
Anna waited.
Vincent exhaled.
“A little.”
There it was.
Ugly and human.
“He spent twenty years telling people I took what should have been his. Sometimes I wanted him to be wrong publicly.”
“And now?”
“Now I would prefer he had only been right privately.”
Anna looked at the photograph again.
“You still love him.”
Vincent’s face closed.
“You’re becoming irritating.”
“That means yes.”
“You have enough problems without diagnosing mine.”
“Fair.”
He leaned back.
“Torres thinks the poisoning required someone with access to the medication.”
“Where would they get it?”
“That’s what they’re tracing.”
“Is it rare?”
“Prescription only. Used in certain hospital and specialty-care settings.”
Anna thought of suppliers.
“You own medical companies?”
“No.”
“Elise?”
“No.”
“Anthony?”
“No.”
“Craig?”
“No known connection.”
“Daniel?”
Vincent shook his head.
Anna became frustrated.
“Then what are we missing?”
Vincent’s gaze moved to the photograph.
Not because it was symbolic.
Because he was avoiding her eyes.
Anna noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is never true when people say it like that.”
“My mother took heart medication before she died.”
Anna waited.
“Was it the same?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could Anthony have had access?”
“She died nine years ago.”
“Old medication?”
“Unlikely useful after nine years.”
“Still tell Torres.”
“I did.”
Anna stood and walked toward the window.
Traffic moved below like light through veins.
“You know what I hate?”
“Many things.”
“I hate that every person has two explanations now.”
“That’s most people.”
“No. I mean every suspicious thing.”
She turned.
“Daniel switched the plate because he was either saving you or targeting you. Craig moved the waiter because he was either helping Elise or following instructions. Elise paid him because she was either covering gambling debts or consulting. Anthony returned because he was either trying to kill you or sleeping with Elise.”
Vincent nodded.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“You were either lucky enough to notice everything or looking for danger because you always look for danger.”
Anna’s face tightened.
He saw it too late.
“Forget I said that.”
“No.”
“Anna.”
“No. You’re right.”
She sat again.
“I do.”
Vincent did not speak.
“My mother called from a hospital and I didn’t answer.”
There.
She had told him.
Not the whole story.
Enough.
May you like
His expression changed.
“She died the next day,” Anna said. “I was working. I thought the calls were spam. Since then, every missed call feels like something terrible. Every weird person entering a kitchen feels like maybe this is the moment I’m supposed to notice.”
