Chương 6
Eleanor knew about the pendant. She had paid for the service.
“What do you mean, it didn’t work?”
“The night she died. It kept making a chirping sound. Dad took it off her and put it in a drawer.”
Claire’s face went still.
“Was your mother conscious?” Eleanor asked.
The officer crossed the room. “We need to stop.”
Sam’s eyes stayed on Eleanor.
“She was on the floor,” he said.
The library door opened.
Detective Ortiz entered with another detective behind her.
No one moved.
Ortiz looked at Sam, then at Eleanor.
“What did he say?”
The officer answered. “He mentioned a medical alert pendant active on the night of Audrey Vance’s death.”
Ortiz turned to Sam. Her voice softened without becoming sweet.
“Do you know where it is?”
Sam swallowed.
“In the junk drawer beside the refrigerator.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
The junk drawer was where Audrey put dead batteries, takeout menus, loose screws, and objects she intended to deal with later.
Arthur had told paramedics the pendant had been lost weeks before her death.
Ortiz sent the second detective to the kitchen with the officer.
Claire lowered herself onto the sofa.
“My brother would not leave her on the floor,” she said.
Sam stared at the rug.
“I was upstairs.”
“You didn’t see what happened,” Claire said.
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“He told me not to come down.”
“He was protecting you.”
“Maybe.”
The word sounded exhausted.
Ortiz asked Sam whether he felt able to speak privately with a child-interview specialist. Sam said he was not a child. Ortiz said the specialist also spoke with adults and happened to be better than she was at asking questions without making people hate her.
Sam looked at Eleanor.
“Will you be there?”
“Not during the interview.”
“Why?”
“Because I may influence what you say.”
“You already do.”
Eleanor had no answer.
Ortiz arranged for the interview to take place the next morning. Claire objected. Sam objected to Claire objecting. The discussion circled until June returned and informed all of them that Audrey’s funeral guests were still waiting in the drawing room and one elderly board member had fallen asleep beneath a landscape painting.
The absurdity settled over them.
Eleanor had forgotten there were more than sixty people downstairs.
She stood.
“Claire, you and Sam may stay here. The officer can remain. No one leaves without informing Detective Ortiz.”
Claire’s eyes hardened. “This is not your decision.”
“It is my house.”
“He is my nephew.”
“He asked to stay.”
“You think money makes every room yours.”
“In this case, the deed does.”
Sam groaned. “Could both of you please stop being exactly who you are for ten minutes?”
June looked down to hide a smile.
Eleanor touched Sam’s shoulder. He allowed it for less than a second.
“I have to speak to the people downstairs,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because they came for your mother.”
“Half of them came because our name was in the newspaper.”
“That may also be true.”
He looked toward her pocket. “Do you have the recording?”
Eleanor did not ask how he knew.
“Yes.”
“Can I hear it?”
“No.”
“Because the detective told you not to?”
“Because it contains your mother’s fear, and you do not need to carry it tonight.”
Sam’s face closed.
“You always decide what other people can carry.”
He walked out of the library.
The sentence followed Eleanor into the drawing room.
The mourners had arranged themselves in small islands around the furniture. Conversation stopped as she entered. The air smelled of lilies, coffee, damp coats, and the expensive candles June lit when the house needed to smell less like itself.
Board members approached first.
Thomas Bell, chairman of the Vance Foundation, took Eleanor’s hands between his. He was a silver-haired attorney with a talent for looking sympathetic while calculating liability.
“We are deeply concerned,” he murmured.
“My daughter is dead. Concern is appropriate.”
“I mean about the situation at the hospital.”
News traveled through wealthy rooms faster than infection.
“What have you heard?”
“Arthur alleges that you are using a private family dispute to interfere with Audrey’s estate.”
“Arthur is being questioned by police.”
“Yes. That is what concerns us.”
Eleanor released her hands from his.
“Which part?”
“The foundation’s name is already appearing in reports. We have several grant announcements next week. If there are accusations involving Arthur’s investments—”
“There are.”
Bell blinked. “Accusations?”
“I do not know yet.”
“Then perhaps we should avoid language that implies—”
“Thomas, my daughter accused her husband of changing her medication to keep her confused. He altered documents and tried to enter a locked office where the evidence was being preserved.”
A woman nearby inhaled sharply.
Bell glanced around. “This is not the place.”
“This is my daughter’s funeral reception. It is the only place I am required to be.”
His face became careful.
“We should speak privately.”
“No. You should contact outside counsel and freeze all transactions connected to Arthur’s companies.”
“On whose authority?”
“Mine.”
“You are one trustee among seven.”
“I am the founder and primary donor.”
“That does not grant unilateral control.”
“Then call an emergency vote.”
“Eleanor, an action like that could be interpreted as retaliation motivated by a family conflict.”
“Good. Let it be interpreted while the accountants work.”
Bell lowered his voice. “Arthur called me.”
“Of course he did.”
“He says Audrey had become suspicious of everyone during her final months, including you.”
The words reached a place Eleanor had not guarded.
“What did he say about me?”
Bell hesitated.
She waited.
“He said Audrey believed you cared more about the foundation than about her.”
The room did not move. Beyond the windows, rain pressed against the glass.
May you like
Audrey had said something similar once, not to Arthur but to Eleanor.
It happened during an argument about a missed Thanksgiving dinner. Audrey had been recovering from a seizure and canceled at the last minute. Eleanor had accused her of allowing illness to dictate the family’s life. Audrey had replied, At least illness notices I exist. You only notice donors.
