Chapter 5 - The Photograph Taken Before Dinner

For three days, the newspapers described the incident as an engagement celebration interrupted by a dispute over family records. They knew a guest had been accused and a woman had been taken to the hospital. They didn't know what had been in the wine, and Detective Ward had asked everyone involved not to discuss the evidence publicly.

That request made sense to me. I had spent one night listening to thirty people fall silent, and I could imagine what would happen if those same people began explaining events they hadn't understood.

My mother heard the rumors before I could visit her. She asked whether I was in danger.

"Not at this moment," I said. "The police are involved."

She wasn't satisfied, but she didn't press me. My younger brother called afterward and asked whether I was leaving the mansion.

"I might," I told him. "I just need to know what comes next."

It was the most truthful answer I had.

The bandage beneath my collarbone was smaller now. My strength had returned, although I still tired easily. Dr. Chen had confirmed that the sedative caused no lasting injury in the tests completed so far. She also warned me not to confuse recovery with an obligation to resume normal work immediately.

On the third afternoon, Detective Ward requested another interview. She had brought a photograph taken by the engagement photographer before the dinner began.

It showed Bianca standing beside the ballroom's side entrance, smiling toward someone outside the frame. A second photograph, taken seconds later, showed Charles Whitcomb accepting a flat cream envelope from her hand.

I leaned closer. "That's before the toast."

"The photographer's time records agree," Ward said. "Six forty-two."

"She had already been upstairs."

"Yes. We think the envelope may have contained the missing documents."

I could see only a corner of paper through its opening. That wasn't enough to identify anything. Ward made the distinction before I could ask.

"It's evidence of a transfer," she said. "We still have to prove what was transferred."

She showed Gabriel the same photographs when he joined us. He studied Bianca's smile, then Whitcomb's hand closing around the envelope.

"I invited him," he said.

"Bianca encouraged you to," Ruth Bell reminded him. "But you didn't ask her to steal from you."

Gabriel said nothing. I could see that he wasn't ready to separate his own trust from what others had done with it.

The photographs had come from a simple choice. The photographer, who had watched my humiliation turn into an investigation, agreed to preserve his entire original memory card rather than just the images selected for the engagement album. The police obtained the files with the photographer's cooperation. A detail meant to record the beauty of a celebration now showed a moment no one had expected to examine.

Ward also had news from Daniel's interviews. He had admitted generating a temporary study credential earlier that afternoon. He said he had written it on a note for Bianca, along with the words about the midnight meeting, because they intended to return to the study after the toast.

"What for?" Gabriel asked.

"He says Bianca told him Whitcomb wanted every remaining record connected to your father's final investigation. The original plan was to sedate you, disable the cameras, and take the files after midnight."

"Then why did she open the safe at six nineteen?"

"Daniel claims she moved ahead without telling him."

Gabriel's jaw tightened. "He still prepared the code."

"He acknowledges that. He has not explained his reason honestly enough for us to accept it."

It was the first major piece that made the timeline fit. Daniel's plan hadn't magically happened before the toast. Bianca had used the access he'd arranged to take part of the files early. The midnight instruction was still intended to conceal a more complete removal afterward.

That afternoon, officers obtained a warrant to search records and relevant possessions connected to Bianca's communications with Whitcomb. They also examined the vehicle that had taken Whitcomb away from the mansion. Ward wouldn't promise what would be found.

I watched Gabriel listen. He was accustomed to making decisions and seeing them carried out immediately. Now the people who could investigate his father's death properly needed evidence, judicial approval, and patience. The waiting was harder on him than he admitted.

In the winter garden, he finally told me what Whitcomb had meant to his family.

"My father thought he was a useful business partner. After the accident, Whitcomb attended the funeral. He offered to help me understand accounts I was too young to manage."

"Did he?"

"For a while. Later, I separated most of our interests. I thought I was protecting the family from old debts."

I looked toward the dark lawn. "And Bianca?"

"We met through charitable events Whitcomb supported. I liked that she never seemed frightened of my name."

He sounded embarrassed to say it.

"You don't need to explain why you trusted someone," I said.

"I do if my trust gave them access to hurt you."

I touched the edge of my bandage. Bianca had known exactly how little power I believed I had. Daniel had known it, too.

"I wanted to tell you in the cellar," I admitted. "Then Daniel pushed me into the cabinet. All I could think about was how fast I could lose my wages."

"You should never have had to choose between keeping your job and reporting an assault."

"That doesn't change how it felt."

"No. It doesn't."

For a while we sat without speaking. Gabriel didn't offer me a new role or ask me to forgive anyone. I was grateful for that.

Ward called as evening fell. Investigators had examined the accounting records for the redevelopment partnership mentioned in the missing statement. One contractor repeatedly appeared in payments processed during the month before Gabriel's father died: North Quay Logistics.

"The company dissolved seventeen years ago," she said. "But its payment history survived in banking records. We're obtaining the underlying authorization documents."

"Was Whitcomb connected?" Gabriel asked.

"He signed some of the partnership approvals. That alone isn't proof of murder."

"I understand."

Then Ward told him something else. Daniel had asked to give a formal statement with counsel present. He wanted to correct the account he'd provided about the night Gabriel's father died eighteen years earlier.

Gabriel held the phone very still.

"He was there," he said after the call ended. "Daniel told me he was nowhere near my father's car."

May you like

[COMPLETED] “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DRESS! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN OLD SEAM...

[COMPLETED] At the Mafia Boss's Engagement Party, I Served His Hungry So...

[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Tried to Dismiss His Father’s Loyal...

I saw the old betrayal settle beside the new one. The folded note in my apron had led us to the study. The photograph had shown Bianca passing something to Whitcomb. But Daniel's request suggested the story reached back much further than either of those moments.

The man who had guarded Gabriel for almost twenty years was finally willing to say where he'd really been on the night his father died.