Chapter 4 - Eleven Days Until Eviction
The first police officer who questioned me asked whether I needed an attorney.
The second asked whether I'd ever been arrested.
The third wanted to know how much money Dominic Rinaldi had offered me.
By the fourth question, I understood that knowing the truth and being believed were two very different things.
It was nearly two in the morning.
The private dining room had been turned into a temporary crime scene.
The untouched wine glass was gone, collected by evidence technicians.
So was the bottle.
The Italian contract had been photographed and placed into protective storage after investigators documented its position.
Daniel Harris was in intensive care.
And my name had somehow become more interesting to the police than the woman whose phone had displayed Did he drink it?
Detective Rebecca Shaw sat across from me in an empty conference room.
She had short brown hair, tired eyes, and a small scar beneath her chin.
"Let's start again."
I rubbed my hands together.
"Detective, I've told you everything."
"Then you'll have no problem telling me once more."
"Someone stole my bracelet."
"Three days ago."
"Yes."
"Someone wore it tonight."
"Yes."
"And you happened to recognize an alteration to the bottle from across the room."
"I was three feet away."
She wrote something.
"Then you challenged the wine service."
"Yes."
"And prevented Mr. Rinaldi from drinking."
"Yes."
She put down her pen.
"That's a remarkable series of coincidences."
I stared at her.
"You're right."
She waited.
"That's why I don't think they're coincidences."
For the first time, her expression changed.
"Explain."
"Someone wanted me near that table."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Someone wanted you involved with the bottle?"
"Maybe."
"Someone wanted you blamed for what happened?"
"Definitely."
"Those are two different theories."
"They could both be true."
She leaned back.
"And the Italian document?"
I closed my eyes.
"It's not a conventional provision transferring control upon death."
"Then what is it?"
"It's a survival clause attached to an existing delegation of authority."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning certain powers granted under the agreement could continue after Dominic's death or attempted revocation, depending on the controlling documents and applicable law."
She watched me carefully.
"Could that give someone a financial motive to kill him?"
"Possibly."
"How much money?"
"I don't know."
"One million?"
"Possibly."
"Ten million?"
"Detective, I don't know."
"A billion?"
I stopped.
She noticed.
"Miss Bennett?"
"I know who Dominic Rinaldi is."
"Then you understand the stakes."
"No."
I looked directly at her.
"I understand that a man was supposed to drink a glass of wine and another man is in the hospital."
"Everything else is what people with money keep telling me."
She said nothing for a moment.
Then she closed her notebook.
"Where will you go tonight?"
"Home."
"Who lives with you?"
"My mother and my brother."
"Names?"
I hesitated.
She waited.
"Elena Bennett."
"And your brother?"
"Caleb."
"How old?"
"Nineteen."
"Does he know anything about your employer's guests?"
"No."
"Does your mother?"
"No."
She nodded.
"I recommend that you avoid discussing this publicly."
I almost laughed.
"I wasn't planning to announce it on the subway."
Her expression softened.
"Do you have a safe place to stay?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
I thought of our apartment.
The deadbolt that sometimes stuck.
The fire escape outside Caleb's window.
The landlord who had threatened eviction twice this year.
"No."
The detective slid a card across the table.
"Call if anyone approaches or threatens you."
Then she paused.
"And Miss Bennett?"
"Yes?"
"If someone really planned this in advance, don't assume tonight was the end of it."
My phone contained seventeen missed calls when I finally stepped outside.
Eleven were from Caleb.
Four were from my mother.
Two were from an unknown number.
It was raining.
Cold October rain that ran down the back of my coat and made Manhattan look like a city made entirely of glass and steel.
A black sedan waited beside the curb.
Gabriel stood near the rear door.
"Your ride."
I looked past him.
"Where's Dominic?"
"Speaking with investigators."
"I can take the train."
"Not tonight."
"Is that an order?"
"No."
"Then I decline."
Gabriel studied me.
"Miss Bennett, someone may have tried to frame you for attempted murder."
"That's why I don't want to get into an unmarked car with a stranger."
For the first time, he almost smiled.
"Fair point."
He showed me his identification.
Then pointed toward a second vehicle.
"A licensed car service is available."
"Paid for by whom?"
"Mr. Rinaldi."
"Then I'll take the subway."
I walked away.
He didn't stop me.
But when I reached the corner, a voice came from behind me.
"Mara."
I turned.
Dominic stood beneath the restaurant awning.
His expensive suit looked slightly rumpled.
His face was pale beneath the streetlights.
Without the private dining room surrounding him, he looked less like an untouchable billionaire.
He looked tired.
And angry.
"You saved my life tonight," he said.
"We don't know that."
"We know enough."
I shook my head.
"Mr. Rinaldi, I don't want a reward."
"That's not why I came outside."
"Then why?"
He approached but kept a respectful distance.
"Because whoever arranged that bottle may have planned to use you as the explanation."
I looked at him.
"Do you think Celeste did it?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Celeste knows something."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
His jaw tightened.
"It isn't."
I stared at the wet pavement.
"My mother's rent is due in eleven days."
Dominic said nothing.
"My brother is behind on tuition."
"I work double shifts because we don't have savings."
"And tonight I apparently made an enemy who can afford to manufacture evidence."
My voice broke.
"How am I supposed to go home and pretend everything's normal?"
Dominic watched me.
"You shouldn't have to."
"That's a nice thing to say when you own half the buildings in Manhattan."
Something changed in his expression.
Not offense.
Recognition.
"You're right."
I looked up.
He continued.
"Money changes what risks people can survive."
"And what risks they can force other people to take."
He nodded.
"Yes."
That surprised me.
He reached inside his coat.
I stiffened.
But he only removed a business card.
"My personal attorney."
I didn't take it.
"I'm not signing anything."
"I'm not asking you to."
"If I accept help, somebody will say you bought my testimony."
"Then arrange independent counsel."
"With what money?"
"I can provide a list of organizations that offer legal assistance."
"You can't just fix this."
"I know."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Dominic said something I hadn't expected.
"I was twenty-six when someone tried to make me sign away the company my father built."
I looked at him.
"My own uncle told me it was only paperwork."
"What happened?"
"I refused."
"And?"
"My uncle spent the next twelve years trying to destroy me."
"Did he succeed?"
"No."
Dominic looked toward the restaurant.
"But he taught me how much damage can be hidden inside one sentence."
My phone vibrated.
A message from Caleb.
Mom is crying.
Then another.
Someone came to the apartment.
I stopped breathing.
Dominic saw my face change.
"What happened?"
I dialed Caleb.
He answered immediately.
"Mara?"
"Who came to the apartment?"
His breathing was uneven.
"A woman."
"What woman?"
"She said she was from your job."
My stomach dropped.
"What did she want?"
"She wanted to see Mom."
"Did you let her in?"
"No."
"Good."
"She left something."
"What?"
Caleb went quiet.
"Caleb."
He whispered.
"A silver bracelet."
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
"Where is it?"
"On the doormat."
"Don't touch it."
"Mara."
His voice cracked.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"She left a note."
My fingers went numb.
"What does it say?"
May you like
Caleb began crying.
"Next time, the wrong person drinks."
