Part 4
Her attorney arrived at eight carrying coffee, a legal pad, and the exhausted irritation of someone whose client had created a problem in front of cameras.
Mara Klein was forty-six, small, blunt, and immune to the atmosphere of expensive rooms. She set her coat on a chair without asking and took one look at Camille’s untouched breakfast.
“Drink the coffee.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Then hold it. You need to look like a person who has hands.”
Camille wrapped both palms around the paper cup.
Mara sat across from her in the breakfast room. Outside, a gardener employed by the neighborhood association was removing a dead branch from a tree with a quiet electric saw. The ordinary sound made the morning feel indecent.
“Odette filed a complaint,” Mara said. “There is excellent video of you striking her.”
“I am aware.”
“There is no useful video of what happened to Lila.”
“There is a recording.”
“There may be a recording. Police have not authenticated it. We have not heard it. Odette’s lawyer will argue it was altered, misunderstood, provoked, illegally obtained, or all four.”
“Lila pressed the button herself.”
“She is seven.”
“She was part of the conversation.”
“I am not debating you. I am explaining how other people will debate you.”
Camille stared into the coffee.
Mara opened her legal pad. “The foundation has placed both you and Odette on temporary leave from board duties.”
“Both?”
“They are pretending balance is integrity.”
“Julian signed the statement.”
“Yes.”
“He was there when Odette grabbed Lila.”
“Then he is either a witness or a problem.”
“He lied to the detective about where he was.”
“People at galas lie about where they are for reasons ranging from adultery to bad canapés. We need more than your instinct.”
Camille put the coffee down.
Mara watched her. “Do not call him.”
“I had not said I would.”
“You moved your phone closer.”
Camille pushed it away.
Mara turned a page. “Now the difficult part. Did Marc authorize transfers from restricted education funds?”
“I don’t know.”
“You paid six hundred forty thousand dollars.”
“I paid to keep the program operating.”
“You paid after Odette told you his signature appeared on transfer documents.”
“Yes.”
“Did you hire your own forensic accountant?”
“No.”
Mara stopped writing.
Camille looked toward the window. “He had been dead three weeks.”
“That is an explanation.”
“I did not say it was a defense.”
“Good. Because this morning the board’s counsel sent a preservation notice covering your devices, Marc’s records, personal correspondence, and financial documents connected to the foundation.”
The coffee had cooled between them.
“Odette knew this would happen,” Camille said.
“Odette may have wanted you afraid of it.”
“She told Lila I knew.”
“And you knew enough to write a check.”
Camille looked at her sharply.
Mara did not look away. “I am your attorney. I am not your choir.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Both women glanced toward the ceiling.
Mara lowered her voice. “How much did Lila hear?”
“She said Odette told Julian that Marc never approved the second transfer. Odette said dead men do not argue about dates.”
Mara stopped tapping her pen.
“That is more useful.”
“She also said Julian challenged the date.”
“Still not proof. But useful.”
“What happens now?”
“The police copy the recording. We request access through the proper process. The foundation appoints outside counsel if it has any sense. Reporters call everyone who has ever disliked you. Odette describes herself as a frail widow assaulted by a powerful socialite.”
“She is not frail.”
“She is elderly, elegant, and photographed with a red cheek. Facts are not the only material used to build a public story.”
Camille turned the cup slowly between her hands.
“What do I say?”
“For now? That you regret using physical force, that your priority is your daughter’s well-being, and that you will cooperate with authorities.”
“I will not apologize to Odette.”
“I did not ask you to.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied that striking her was wrong.”
Camille’s jaw tightened.
Mara leaned back. “This is the moment where you decide whether you want counsel or applause.”
The saw outside stopped. In the sudden quiet, Camille heard Lila moving in the hallway.
She entered wearing striped pajamas and one of Marc’s old cashmere socks on each foot. They reached almost to her knees. She looked at Mara.
“Are you the lawyer?”
“I am.”
“Are you going to put Mommy in jail?”
“I am going to make sure nobody lies to her about what can happen.”
Lila climbed onto the chair beside Camille.
Mara’s face softened by a degree. “Would you like toast?”
“No.”
“Good. It is very dry.”
Lila almost smiled.
Camille looked at Mara with brief gratitude. Mara ignored it.
By noon, the police digital unit had copied the locket’s memory in the presence of a technician, Detective Torres, and an attorney assigned to protect the integrity of the evidence. The device remained in police custody.
The audio lasted fourteen minutes and thirty-one seconds.
The first two minutes contained only footsteps, distant music, and Lila whispering to herself that she had taken the wrong hall. Then Julian’s voice appeared, muffled but recognizable.
“You moved the date again.”
Odette answered, “I corrected the sequence.”
“Marc never approved the second transfer.”
“He approved the first.”
“Temporarily.”
“And then he died, leaving us with a deficit, frightened trustees, and four hundred employees who did not deserve to lose their salaries because his conscience became theatrical.”
Julian’s voice dropped too low to understand.
Odette said, “You sent the memorandum. You used the signature file. Do not rediscover your ethics in a corridor.”
There was movement, a scrape, and a child’s intake of breath.
“What are you doing here?” Odette asked.
Lila said she was looking for the bathroom.
Odette’s tone changed, becoming gentle in the deliberate way adults sometimes frightened children while pretending not to.
“You heard a private conversation.”
“I heard Daddy.”
“Your father made serious mistakes.”
May you like
“No.”
“Your mother knows what he did. That is why she replaced the money.”
