Chapter 5: The Recording in the Emerald Gown
Grace bent toward the floor.
Evelyn moved first.
She stamped her heel down over the small memory card, grinding it against the marble.
“Don't touch that!”” Grace shouted.
Every head turned.
Evelyn lifted her foot, and a thin black fragment slid from beneath her shoe.
Richard grabbed her wrist before she could kick it under the table.
“That's enough.””
“Let go of me!””
“You destroyed evidence in front of three hundred witnesses.””
“I dropped something. I stepped on it. Perhaps you should stop dramatizing every movement I make.””
Grace crouched and picked up the fragment with a folded cocktail napkin.
The card had split along one edge, but its metal contacts were intact.
She held it toward Richard.
“Can this still be read?””
“Possibly.””
Evelyn yanked her arm free.
“You're all behaving like children. It's a broken memory card, not a confession.””
Richard handed it to Thomas.
“Put it somewhere safe. Don't connect it to anything until Lydia gets here.””
Thomas placed the fragment in a small evidence pouch from his security kit.
The sight of the pouch made several guests exchange alarmed glances.
One man near the windows announced that he was leaving. A guard politely reminded him that Richard had asked everyone to remain available.
“I've already paid for dinner,” the man protested.
“Then enjoy the champagne,” Richard replied without looking at him.
It might have been funny under different circumstances.
Grace could barely breathe.
She had watched Evelyn destroy something that might have contained the only evidence explaining why her mother had died frightened and alone.
She looked at the fragment in Thomas's hand.
“Why did you have that?””
Evelyn's face tightened.
“I have no obligation to explain the contents of my handbag to a maid.””
“I didn't ask about your handbag. I asked why you were carrying a memory card that you were willing to destroy.””
“Because it was mine.””
“Then why were you afraid of Richard seeing it?””
Evelyn stared at her.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Evelyn leaned close enough that Grace could smell the sharp sweetness of her perfume.
“You think your mother made you special,” she whispered.
“She taught you to read registration numbers and inspect signatures, and now you believe you can walk into a room like this and demand justice.””
Grace held her gaze.
“No. My mother taught me to recognize thieves.””
Evelyn's hand twitched.
Richard stepped between them.
“Walk away from her.””
Evelyn backed off, but her eyes never left Grace.
“You'll regret this.””
“I already regret not asking my mother more questions,” Grace replied.
“Everything else is still undecided.””
A side door opened.
A woman in her early sixties strode into the ballroom carrying a large leather briefcase. Lydia Shaw wore a charcoal suit, sensible black heels, and the expression of someone who had been forced to leave a perfectly good dinner to clean up another person's disaster.
She crossed the marble floor without stopping.
“Richard, where are the documents?””
He showed her the certificate, the disputed authorization, and the note.
Lydia read each page in silence.
Then she looked at Evelyn.
“Did you sign the transfer?””
Evelyn lifted her chin.
“I signed an administrative form.””
“Did you witness Marianne Bell signing the authorization?””
“No.””
“Did Richard?””
“He says he didn't.””
Lydia turned toward him.
“Did you?””
“No.””
“Then neither of you should touch that document again.””
She opened her briefcase and placed a pair of thin gloves on the table.
“Thomas, I need the security footage from the archive corridor, the jewelry storage room, and the east entrance. Original files, not edited clips. Also, nobody deletes anything from the foundation's systems.””
Thomas nodded.
“Understood.””
Lydia examined the memory-card fragment through the evidence pouch.
“Where did this come from?””
“Under Evelyn's shoe,” Grace answered.
Lydia looked up.
“Evelyn?””
“It's a private matter.””
Lydia's expression did not change.
“Then you'll have no objection to explaining why you destroyed it.””
“I didn't destroy it. I stepped on it.””
“While reaching for it.””
Evelyn crossed her arms.
“You're a lawyer, Lydia. Not a police detective.””
“No, I'm the lawyer who warned the foundation that its asset records were incomplete.””
Richard went very still.
“When?””
“Three weeks ago. I requested the original consignment file for the Bell necklace. The copy provided to me had no chain-of-custody record and a questionable ownership declaration.””
Richard stared at Evelyn.
“You told me Lydia had approved the auction.””
“I said she'd reviewed the paperwork.””
“That is not the same thing.””
“I did what was necessary to protect the foundation.””
Lydia closed the folder.
“Protecting the foundation does not mean concealing the owner.””
She turned to Grace.
“Your mother left you anything besides the certificate?””
Grace remembered the sealed envelope.
“The inventory. And a letter.””
“Where is the letter?””
“In my bag. I brought it because I thought someone might try to deny she was the registered owner.””
“May I see it?””
Grace retrieved the envelope and placed it in Lydia's hand.
Lydia read the front.
Her face changed almost imperceptibly.
“Who gave this to you?””
“No one. I found it in my mother's jewelry box.””
“Was the box locked?””
“Yes.””
“Did anyone else have access to it?””
Grace thought back to the week after the funeral.
Evelyn had appeared at her mother's rented house with flowers and a casserole dish. She had offered to help arrange the estate and asked Grace to leave her alone in Marianne's bedroom while she gathered documents for the funeral home.
Grace had been exhausted.
She had trusted her.
“Yes,” Grace said slowly.
“Evelyn did.””
Evelyn scoffed.
“I was trying to help.””
“You were alone in the bedroom for almost twenty minutes.””
“Because you were crying in the kitchen.””
Grace stared at her.
“You knew where my mother kept the jewelry box.””
“Of course I knew.””
“Why?””
Evelyn's mouth tightened.
“Because your mother worked for my family for twenty-three years. I knew her habits.””
Lydia folded the letter carefully.
“Richard, I need to speak with you privately.””
“No,” Grace said.
Both of them looked at her.
“If everyone keeps disappearing into private rooms, nothing gets answered. My mother has been dead for ten weeks. I have spent every night since the auction catalog appeared wondering why she was so afraid. I'm not leaving this room while people decide what I'm allowed to know.””
Lydia studied Grace for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
“Fair enough.””
She turned to Richard.
“We can speak here.””
Lydia opened a smaller compartment in her briefcase and removed a sheet of paper with the foundation's official letterhead.
“Three weeks ago, I received an anonymous package containing photographs of documents from the old Vale estate archive.””
Evelyn's lips parted.
“What photographs?””
Lydia laid the sheet on the table.
“They showed the original necklace registration, the loan termination, and a handwritten ledger entry indicating that the necklace had been removed from the foundation's custody without authorization.””
Richard looked stunned.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“I did. I sent you a written report.””
“I never received it.””
“Then someone intercepted it.””
Lydia took out another page.
“I kept a copy.””
Evelyn moved toward the papers.
Lydia covered them with her hand.
“Don't.””
Evelyn stopped.
The lawyer continued.
“The ledger entry was dated fourteen months ago. It indicated that the necklace had been removed from the storage vault under the authority of a senior foundation officer.””
Richard read the entry.
The name had been blacked out in the photograph.
“Who sent you this package?”” he asked.
“It contained no return address.””
“Did you identify the handwriting?””
“Yes.””
Lydia turned toward Grace.
“Your mother wrote the ledger entry.””
Grace's throat tightened.
“Then she knew the necklace had been removed.””
“She knew it had been removed improperly. But she didn't identify the person responsible in the surviving copy.””
Evelyn gave a brittle laugh.
“Because she didn't know who had authorized it.””
Lydia's eyes narrowed.
“That's possible. It's also possible she was trying to protect someone.””
Grace shook her head.
“My mother wouldn't protect a thief.””
“People sometimes protect their children,” Lydia said gently.
Richard's gaze moved to Evelyn.
She went rigid.
Then the lawyer placed the anonymous package photograph beside the disputed transfer document.
“There is something else. The person who sent these photographs included one instruction.””
Lydia reached into the bottom of her briefcase and withdrew a sealed evidence envelope.
The writing on it was unmistakable.
Grace recognized her mother's handwriting immediately.
The same careful letters. The same slight slant in the final word.
Lydia held it up.
“Deliver this only if Evelyn Vale attempts to sell the necklace.””
Grace felt the floor seem to shift beneath her.
“You have a letter from my mother?””
“I have an envelope that arrived with the photographs.””
“Why didn't you contact me?””
“Because I couldn't verify who had sent it, and I didn't want to expose you to someone who might have been monitoring the investigation.””
Grace swallowed.
“Open it.””
Lydia broke the seal and unfolded the page.
She read silently at first.
Then her fingers tightened on the paper.
Richard leaned closer.
“What does it say?””
Lydia looked directly at Evelyn.
“Marianne claims the necklace was never the most valuable thing taken from her.””
Evelyn's face turned white.
Grace could barely make her voice work.
“What was?””
Lydia turned the page.
Beneath the final paragraph was a list of names, followed by an amount of money that made Richard inhale sharply.
At the bottom, written in capital letters, were five words:
*ASK WHO PAID FOR THE MEDICINE.*
Grace looked at Evelyn.
“What does that mean?””
Evelyn's eyes flicked toward the exit.
Then she looked at Thomas.
“Get her out of here.””
Thomas didn't move.
He was staring at the letter.
And when Grace reached for it, Lydia caught her wrist.
“Wait,” the lawyer whispered.
Grace turned.
Lydia's face had gone pale.
“There's a name on the back.””
She flipped the letter over.
In the lower corner, someone had written the name of the doctor who had treated Marianne during her final weeks.
Grace recognized it immediately.
*Dr. Samuel Whitmore.*
May you like
And beneath his name was a handwritten date.
The day before Marianne died.
