Page 31 of One Last Lie

She’s still smiling as she says, “That’s exactly what you meant to do, Mary.” She lets out a sigh of resignation and says, “Jonathon was right about that woman.”

I'm not certain she intends to say more, but I feel like she's on the cusp of extending her confidence to me. If Elijah has information that could help me solve this case, then Cecilia must have far more, so I just wait politely for her to continue.

She does. “He intended to oust her from the company. There are buyback provisions for everyone’s stock. I didn’t understand all of it. I’ve had to give myself an education. The truth is, I wish she was anyone other than Elena Serrano because I’d rather hand the decisions to someone else.”

“I don’t think so, Cecilia. You don’t want to hand the decisions to someone else. You just need time to recover from your loss first.”

She nods slowly. “You hired me so that I could take care of your children. You didn’t hire me to hand the decisions to anyone else.”

“I think I’m coming to rely on these talks,” she says.

Her chuckle is the oddest thing. It seems like a combination of gratitude, resignation, admiration, and bitterness. I suppose such a combination isn’t actually all that odd for a woman who’s just lost her husband.

“Well,” she says, “I have some phone calls to make. I’d rather put out whatever fires Elena intends to create before she creates them.”

I should just let her go, but I need more information. So far, the only evidence I have that Elena could be the murderer is her aggressive demeanor toward Cecilia and Johnathan’s possibly paranoid speculations.

“Was Elena always like this?” I ask.

She chuckles bitterly. “I think she was. Johnathan didn’t. When they met…” she chuckles again, not quite as bitterly. “Actually, I thought they were having an affair.”

I’m genuinely surprised to hear that. “An affair? With her?”

She laughs again, and all the bitterness is gone. “You’re very sweet, Mary. But men are attracted to more than just physical beauty. Elena is very intelligent and like I said, I’ve had to take a crash course in business after Johnathan’s death. He never said it out loud, but I could tell he wished that I was a little more knowledgeable about what he did for a living. He used to talk to her for hours on end.

“It wasn’t until she gained real power that she showed her true colors. She would go behind Johnathan’s back and try to convince other officers in the company that Johnathan wasn’t qualified to make decisions. She would smile to his face and spread rumors behind his back. When he confronted her, she would deny everything, but eventually, she couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Then she got vicious. She tried on three separate occasions to have the board vote him off. She somehow discovered he was seeking treatment with…” she catches herself, unaware that I know of his sessions with Dr. Harrow. “Well, she became aware of some proprietary information and tried to raise doubts about Johnathan’s competence again. It didn’t work. The third time, it backfired on her badly enough that she actually had to beg Johnathan to keep her job.”

She frowns. “I begged Johnathan not to defend her. I saw right through her crocodile tears.

“But Johnathan was kind.” Her frown fades, and once more she only looks tired. “That was his greatest weakness.”

“He allowed her to stay?”

“Worse. He spoke in favor of her to the board. They were ready to cut her out, but he…” she lifts her hands and lets them drop. “I don’t know. Maybe he just couldn’t admit that the woman he saw so much potential in had fooled him all along. Anyway, she’s still here, and Johnathan isn’t. And I don’t know how long I can hold on.”

“As long as you need to,” I insist. “For the children’s sake, you must.”

She looks past my shoulder at the door. “It’s the children that make me wonder if I should just let this all go. We have money. We have comfort. We don’t need the business.”

“You must for the memory of their father.”

A sneer comes to her face. It's an ugly look and not one I'm accustomed to seeing on her. "Oh yes. Their dear father."

She catches herself again and smiles at me. “Well, like I said. I need to make those phone calls. You should return to the children.”

It’s spoken softly, but I know a command when I hear one. I smile at her and say, “Of course. Good luck, ma’am.”

I head outside. The children greet me with laughter, but the trees reach toward me as menacingly as they ever did.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Anne’s face seems distraught as she places the folded paper in my hand. She still looks lovely. She still looks perfect. She always looks perfect. Where I am short and rather stumpy, she is tall and graceful. I have a face that is kindly called cute or perhaps even pretty. Her features are noble, feminine and beautiful.

At the moment, her perfect face is distraught. I want to ask her why, but for some reason, I can't speak. Perhaps the moment seems too significant for words.

She frowns and looks past me. I turn around. There’s nothing, just the pond that’s always been in the backyard.

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