Part 4
Adrian’s jaw shifted. “I would have listened to you.”
“After they searched my bag?”
He did not say anything.
That was answer enough.
When the room had emptied, Eleanor changed slowly. Her fingers would not manage the small buttons at her wrists, and Mrs. Delaney had to help. The dry uniform was identical to the wet one except for a faint shine at the elbows. Eleanor had bought both from a supplier in Boston after Lydia said the former uniforms looked too informal for the renovated house.
The dinner jacket remained over the back of the chair.
Eleanor touched the sleeve.
“Leave it,” Mrs. Delaney said.
“It should be sent to the cleaner.”
“For once in your life, let someone else worry about the laundry.”
Eleanor sat again.
Outside the windows, staff members cleared the reception as though nothing unusual had happened. Champagne glasses disappeared into gray racks. Wilted napkins were gathered. A bus intended to carry donors to the harbor stood idling beyond the hedge.
Real life was often cruel in its refusal to pause.
Mrs. Delaney knelt to fasten a clean shoe.
“Did Celeste push you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You don’t fall.”
“I am sixty-eight.”
“You climb ladders when I tell you not to.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“I know where the ladder is.”
Mrs. Delaney sat back on her heels. “You’re making jokes.”
“I’m not.”
“You only make jokes when you’re frightened.”
Eleanor looked at the door.
“I saw Celeste come out of the library after I put the envelope away,” she said.
Mrs. Delaney became still.
“She asked what I had been doing. I told her I was working.”
“And then?”
“She asked me to fetch a shawl from the guest cloakroom. When I came back, she said her brooch was missing.”
“Did she know about the envelope?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she see where you put it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mrs. Delaney stood. “You’re going to tell Adrian.”
“I already told him enough.”
“No. You told him there was an envelope. You did not tell him Celeste saw you leave the room.”
Eleanor folded the wet jacket more neatly over the chair, though the weight of the water made neatness impossible.
“I would like to go home.”
“That is not the same as answering me.”
“I know.”
Twenty minutes later, Thomas returned with the estate attorney, Ruth Calder, and an expression that made Adrian stop pacing before the man spoke.
“The envelope is not in the desk,” Thomas said.
They had gathered in Lydia’s private study rather than the blue room. Eleanor sat near the fireplace with a cup of tea cooling between her hands. Victor and Celeste remained in the east drawing room, though Thomas had warned that Victor was demanding to leave.
“Was the drawer locked?” Ruth asked.
“No.”
“Who entered the library after Mrs. Mercer placed the envelope there?”
“We don’t know yet. It was open to reception guests.”
“Security footage?”
“The library has no interior camera. The hallway camera covers part of the entrance.”
“Part?”
“A floral arrangement blocked the lower half of the view.”
Lydia closed her eyes. “Of course it did.”
Thomas continued. “We also have a problem with the terrace footage.”
Mara’s head lifted. “What problem?”
“The central server file is corrupted.”
“You saw it.”
“I saw the clip on your phone. The original recording shows twelve minutes of visual distortion beginning at three forty-seven.”
Mara unlocked her phone. “I screen-recorded the playback when I saw Celeste near the bag.”
“From the security application?”
“Yes.”
“Then what you have may be the only copy.”
Victor’s voice came from the doorway.
“Or it may be a manipulated copy.”
He stood behind Ruth, one hand resting on the doorframe. Celeste was beside him. She had covered her shoulders with a white wrap. Her face remained pale, but her posture had returned to something close to composure.
Thomas turned. “You were asked to remain in the drawing room.”
“I was informed, not asked.” Victor entered. “And I will not be confined in a house where my daughter is being accused on the strength of a recording that has mysteriously vanished.”
“Mara recorded it before the server file was corrupted,” Adrian said.
“Convenient.”
Mara’s face flushed. “I didn’t corrupt anything.”
“I did not say you did.”
“You implied it.”
Victor looked almost pleased. “Then perhaps you understand how implication can damage an innocent person.”
Eleanor felt the room turn toward her without anyone moving.
Celeste’s gaze settled on the tea in Eleanor’s hands.
“I am sorry you fell,” she said.
Eleanor set down the cup.
“You accused me of theft.”
“I believed you had taken the brooch.”
“You put it in my bag.”
“That is what Adrian believes he saw.”
“That is what I saw,” Mara said.
Celeste ignored her.
She looked at Eleanor with an expression that might have passed for concern across a larger room.
“You were confused. There was broken glass, people moving, water everywhere. Perhaps you picked it up without realizing.”
“I did not.”
“Perhaps someone else placed it there.”
“Your hand was inside the bag,” Adrian said.
Celeste turned toward him. “Because I was looking for what was mine.”
“While holding it.”
“You watched a tiny screen for a few seconds.”
“Twice.”
“And now the real recording is gone.”
Ruth raised a hand. “No one is going to litigate the facts in this room.”
Victor smiled. “At last, an adult.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
Ruth gave Victor a level look. “That instruction includes you.”
The smile disappeared.
She opened a leather portfolio on Lydia’s desk. “The brooch should be placed in a sealed evidence envelope. Mrs. Mercer’s handbag should also be preserved. Mara, do not alter, trim, forward, or replay the screen recording again. Put the phone in airplane mode after we make a forensic copy.”
“I already emailed the clip to you,” Mara said.
“I received it.”
“And to myself.”
“That was sensible.”
May you like
Victor exhaled through his nose.
Ruth turned to Eleanor. “Mrs. Mercer, I need a complete account of the afternoon. Not now, if you are too shaken. But soon.”
