Chương 7 - The Man Who Read the Will
Evelyn did not confront Martin in the ballroom.
For once, anger lost to caution.
She waited until the police released the guests two hours later.
Then she told Martin she wanted to go home.
He insisted on driving.
Exactly what she wanted.
Ethan tried to follow.
Evelyn stopped him at the hotel entrance.
“No.”
“Evelyn, whoever took that envelope threatened you.”
“And I don't know who I can trust.”
His face tightened. “You think it's me?”
“I think you lied to me for over a year.”
“I was protecting you.”
“People keep using that word when they mean controlling me.”
She got into Martin's car.
The drive to the Cross estate took thirty minutes.
For the first ten, neither of them spoke.
Then Evelyn asked, “Why did my father change his will six weeks before he died?”
Martin's hands stayed steady on the wheel.
“He wanted to restructure voting control.”
“Why?”
“He was worried about Grant.”
“Did he say anything about you?”
Martin looked at her.
That glance was enough.
“He did.”
Evelyn's pulse jumped.
“What?”
“He said if he died suddenly, I was to give you a sealed letter on the first anniversary of his death.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“That is five weeks from now.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the letter?”
Martin's jaw tightened.
“In my office safe.”
“Turn around.”
“What?”
“Take me there.”
“Evelyn, no.”
“You lied to me about my father's death. You sat in my house for eleven months and watched me grieve an accident you knew might be murder. You do not get to tell me no.”
Martin slowed the car.
Then he turned toward downtown.
His office occupied the eighteenth floor of a quiet law building overlooking the river.
At 1:14 a.m., they stepped out of the elevator.
The reception area was dark.
Martin unlocked the inner door.
Then froze.
His office light was on.
“I turned that off,” he whispered.
Evelyn's heart began pounding.
Martin reached into his coat and pulled out a small licensed handgun.
“Stay behind me.”
They moved down the hallway.
His office door stood open.
The safe behind a framed landscape painting was exposed.
Its metal door hung crooked.
Empty.
Martin swore.
Evelyn stepped inside.
Papers covered the floor.
Drawers had been emptied.
A black leather chair lay on its side.
Then she saw the photograph on Martin's desk.
It had not been there before.
A picture of her father standing beside Grant.
Between them stood Martin.
On the back, someone had written:
THREE MEN BUILT IT. ONE MAN BURNED IT DOWN.
Evelyn looked at Martin.
“Which man?”
Before he could answer, the office phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Martin picked it up.
His face went white.
He slowly handed the receiver to Evelyn.
May you like
A man's voice said, “Your father left more than one letter.”
Then the line went dead.
