Chapter 9 - Margaret'S Version Of The Truth
The first thing Raymond did after hearing Margaret's younger voice on the recording was ask Detective Reyes to play it again.
The second thing he did was ask her not to tell Margaret they had it.
Emily disagreed.
"I want to see her face when she hears it."
Raymond looked at her carefully.
"That is an emotional reason."
"Yes."
"And a bad investigative reason."
"Probably."
"You still want it?"
"Yes."
Detective Reyes almost smiled.
"We are not confronting her yet."
Emily leaned back against the pillow.
"Then I hope you enjoy being more disciplined than I am."
Reyes turned serious again.
"The recording is important, but it is nineteen years old."
"My mother's voice is on it."
"I believe you."
"Raymond recognized Margaret."
"Recognition helps."
"But?"
"But defense counsel will argue contamination, editing, mistaken identification, and chain-of-custody problems."
Raymond gestured toward the screen.
"The device was hidden in a locker Simon controlled."
"Exactly."
Reyes's tone stayed measured.
"Which means I need to know how it got there and why Simon had the key."
Emily looked toward the door.
"Is he awake?"
"Not yet."
"What if he dies?"
"Then the note in his coat becomes even more important."
"The note that blames Preston."
"Yes."
Emily folded her hands over her stomach.
"I don't believe it."
Reyes lifted one eyebrow.
"You don't believe Preston is involved?"
"I believe Preston is selfish, dishonest, controlling, and desperate to get my signature."
She swallowed.
"I believe he let Vanessa hurt me."
Her voice thinned at that admission.
"But the evidence is being arranged too neatly around him."
Raymond nodded slowly.
Reyes wrote something down.
"That matters."
"Why?"
"Because victims often see relationship patterns investigators don't."
"Preston is not innocent."
"I didn't say he was."
Emily looked at the old recorder on the secure video feed.
"I think someone wants him guilty of everything so no one looks past him."
Raymond crossed his arms.
"Margaret."
"Maybe."
"You heard her voice."
"I heard a voice you recognized."
Raymond's gaze sharpened.
"You think I am wrong?"
"I think I just learned you hid evidence for nineteen years."
He accepted the blow.
"Fair."
The room went quiet.
At noon, Dr. Hart allowed Emily to eat.
Every item came sealed.
The nurse opened each package in front of her while security watched.
Emily hated it.
She also ate every bite.
She was halfway through soup when her father called for real.
This time Raymond verified the number through a second call before Emily answered.
"Emily?"
Her father's voice almost broke her.
"Hi, Dad."
"Why are police at your house?"
She closed her eyes.
There was no gentle way to say it.
"I'm in the hospital."
Silence.
"The baby?"
"He's okay right now."
"You?"
"I'm being monitored."
"What happened?"
Emily looked at Raymond.
He turned away to give her privacy.
"Preston's mistress kicked me."
Her father said nothing for several seconds.
Then she heard a chair scrape.
"His what?"
"Mistress."
"He brought another woman near you?"
"Yes."
"And she kicked you?"
"Yes."
Her father's breathing changed.
"I'm coming."
"Dad, you're six hours away."
"Then I have six hours to be angry before I arrive."
Emily laughed through tears.
"Please don't drive angry."
"I'm flying."
"Okay."
"And Emily?"
"Yes?"
"Do not go home with him."
The sentence landed with painful tenderness.
"I won't."
"Good."
He paused.
"Your mother would burn the city down."
Emily looked at the black case containing Catherine's recorder on the tablet screen.
"I think she tried to warn us before anyone had to."
Her father went quiet.
"What does that mean?"
"I'll explain when you get here."
After they disconnected, Emily sat with the phone in her lap.
She had expected shame when telling her father about Preston.
Instead she felt relief.
One lie had been removed from her life.
There were still too many left.
At 1:17 p.m., Margaret returned to the hospital with two attorneys.
She did not ask permission to enter the maternity floor.
Security stopped her at the elevator.
The resulting argument carried halfway down the corridor.
Emily could hear Margaret's voice from her room.
"I am a foundation officer and the mother of an executive board member."
The security supervisor replied evenly.
"Neither title gives you access to a protected patient."
"She is my daughter-in-law."
"She has declined visitors."
"Raymond is isolating her."
"Mrs. Whitmore declined you personally."
Margaret lowered her voice, but Emily still heard the next words.
"She is not in a state to make decisions."
Emily's hands curled into fists.
Dr. Hart looked up from the chart.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Let her blood pressure become your problem."
Emily looked at the monitor.
"Can I talk to her from here?"
"I am a doctor, not security."
Emily pressed the intercom button to the nurse's desk.
"Please tell Mrs. Whitmore I will speak to her for five minutes in the family consultation room if Detective Reyes and security are present."
Raymond, who had been on a call near the window, turned sharply.
"Emily."
"You said facts matter more than assumptions."
"They do."
"Then I want hers."
He stared at her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
The consultation room was twenty yards from Emily's bed.
Dr. Hart allowed the transfer only by wheelchair with the monitor temporarily portable.
It was humiliating and empowering at the same time.
Emily entered the room wearing a hospital gown beneath her beige cardigan, one hand on her belly, Raymond at her left and Detective Reyes at her right.
Margaret sat at the table in cream wool as if nothing in her life had ever been allowed to wrinkle.
Her attorneys stood behind her.
When she saw the monitor strapped around Emily's abdomen, her face flickered.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
"This is unnecessary," Margaret said.
Emily sat opposite her.
"You came back."
"Because your uncle has frozen access to foundation accounts and suspended three hospital executives."
Raymond spoke from the wall.
"Temporary preservation measures."
Margaret looked at him.
"The language thieves use when they seize things."
Emily leaned forward.
"Did you know I was coming to the hospital this morning?"
Margaret's attorney raised a hand.
"My client is not here for interrogation."
Detective Reyes said, "Then she is free to leave."
Margaret looked at the detective.
"I am not afraid of questions."
"Good," Emily said.
"Did you know?"
Margaret folded her gloves on the table.
"Preston mentioned you had an appointment."
"When?"
"Last night."
Emily's skin went cold.
Preston had told her he saw the appointment on the calendar last night.
That matched.
"Did he tell you why?"
"He said you had been secretive."
"Did he tell you about my divorce consultation?"
Margaret's expression barely changed.
"I learned about that this morning."
"From Preston?"
"Yes."
Emily watched her closely.
"Who wrote the incident clarification you brought me?"
"Counsel."
One of the attorneys behind her shifted.
Detective Reyes noticed.
"Which counsel?"
Margaret's eyes hardened.
"Hospital outside counsel."
Raymond spoke.
"No one in our legal department authorized it."
Margaret looked at him.
"Your legal department is not the only legal department in the world."
Emily's voice stayed calm.
"Why did it include a proxy?"
Margaret paused.
"It did not."
Raymond placed a reconstructed photocopy of the torn page on the table.
Margaret read it.
Her face did not change.
That bothered Emily more than surprise would have.
"That is a standard temporary authorization provision."
"For corporate actions," Raymond said.
"If a patient is incapacitated, someone must preserve continuity."
Emily stared at her.
"You were trying to make Preston my proxy."
"I was trying to protect your marriage from a moment of hysteria."
Detective Reyes's eyes narrowed.
Emily felt the old temptation to defend herself from the word.
She let it pass.
"Were you at a board dinner with my mother the night she died?"
For the first time, Margaret's composure cracked.
It was small.
A tightening around the eyes.
A pause before breath.
"What does Catherine have to do with this?"
Emily watched her.
"Answer."
Margaret's attorney leaned toward her.
"You do not have to discuss events from two decades ago."
Margaret waved him away.
"Yes."
"Did she become dizzy?"
"I don't remember."
"Did she leave early?"
"She was always dramatic when she didn't get her way."
Raymond stepped away from the wall.
"Careful."
Margaret looked at him.
"There you are."
Her smile was thin.
"The loyal brother."
Emily's stomach tightened.
"Did you ask my mother to change the Saint Claire trust?"
Margaret's eyes went directly to Raymond.
That was enough.
"You told her," she said.
Raymond answered coldly.
"She had a right to know."
"Catherine wanted it private."
Emily leaned forward.
"You knew the trust converts when my child is born."
Margaret's face became unreadable.
"I knew Catherine wrote a sentimental clause that could destabilize a billion-dollar institution."
"Sentimental."
"Yes."
"You mean my son."
Margaret's lips compressed.
"I mean governance."
"My unborn child is a governance problem to you?"
"Do not twist business into emotion."
Emily almost laughed.
"You brought a proxy to a woman who had just been kicked while pregnant."
"Because Raymond would otherwise exploit you."
"Did you put something in my mother's wine?"
The question landed like a glass breaking.
Margaret stared at her.
Her attorneys moved immediately.
"This conversation is over."
Margaret did not stand.
"No."
Her voice was quiet.
She looked at Emily with something almost like pity.
"If Raymond is telling you I killed Catherine, then he has finally become the liar I always said he was."
Raymond's hands curled at his sides.
Emily kept watching Margaret.
"I didn't say Raymond told me."
Margaret went still.
A tiny mistake.
Emily felt it.
Detective Reyes felt it too.
"Then who did?" Margaret asked.
Emily did not answer.
Margaret's eyes moved from Emily to Reyes to Raymond.
She understood.
"You found something."
No one spoke.
Margaret stood.
"Whatever you found, ask where it has been for nineteen years."
She looked at Raymond.
"Ask who benefited from hiding it."
Then she turned to Emily.
"And ask your uncle why Catherine called me at 11:57 that night instead of calling him."
Emily's pulse jumped.
"What?"
Margaret smiled faintly.
"He didn't know that part?"
Raymond's face changed.
Margaret picked up her gloves.
"Catherine called me fifteen minutes after that little recording."
"What did she say?" Emily asked.
Margaret walked toward the door.
"She said she had made a terrible mistake."
Emily's heart raced.
"What mistake?"
Margaret looked back.
May you like
"She said she had trusted the wrong Saint Claire."
Then she left.
