Page 78 of Canvas of Lies
I considered it, trying to determine if there was any hidden danger lurking in that decision, but ultimately I nodded. “Yeah, it’s probably better that way.”
While Kat made the phone calls, I set out our humble meal on the coffee table. Though she looked significantly less glazedthan she had after receiving the news, there were still faint smudges beneath her eyes. Catching me studying her, she gave a half smile.
“I’m fine, just worn out. This wasn’t how I expected the week to go. I meant to tell you before, I think Hanson knows we’re hiding something.”
“We’re hiding a number of things,” I replied with a slight shrug, “but nothing that has to do with the attack on us or the attack on your father. We’re as much in the dark about that as they are. I don’t know how much we could tell them without implicating me in a crime. It seems easier not to say anything than to figure out where that line is.”
Since she seemed to have come to the same conclusion, she simply focused on her sandwich. Just as she popped the last bite in her mouth, I leaned back and sighed.
“If you’re questioned and they ask you directly about anything, I don’t want you to lie for me. You need to answer them honestly. We’ll deal with the fallout if we have to.”
Her gaze shot to my face, conflict warring in the depths of her eyes. “I just want it to be over.”
I realized she’d sidestepped my instructions to tell the police the truth, but I recognized a losing battle when I saw one. Kat would no sooner implicate me than she would cut off her own arm. Still, I had to try.
“It’ll be over soon enough.” I stroked her cheek with my fingertips and smiled gently. “Why don’t I run you a nice hotbath and we’ll just relax for the rest of the day, okay? We can worry about everything else tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kat
Myfather’sattorneywasnot at all what I expected. The lawyers I’d been forced to smile at and make polite small talk with during events throughout my childhood had been very much like my father—slick and suave, with blinding smiles and perfectly tailored suits. If you’d seen one, you’d seen them all.
Wallace Compton, on the other hand, looked about as grandfatherly as I could imagine, with thin white hair and twinkling green eyes. He wore a tweed suit that looked a size too small for his robust frame and tiny gold-framed glasses that would’ve been perfect on Santa Claus.
“Ah, my dear,” he said, rising to his feet as Beardsley led us into the library. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I replied, hoping the words didn’t sound as wooden as they felt.
The sympathy in the butler’s eyes when we first arrived had nearly brought me to tears, but I mustered a tight smile as I shook Compton’s hand. It was easier to keep things simple. Surely my father’s own estate lawyer knew that I’d been practically estranged from the man. He didn’t need a rundown of the sordid details.
“If it’s acceptable to you, Katherine, the police have requested to be present during the reading of the will. They should be here any minute, along with your mother.”
My head snapped up in surprise. “My mother?”
Compton had the grace to look slightly abashed. “I’m afraid so. She is mentioned in the will, so I had to contact her, you see.”
Nico took my hand and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze. I’d hoped to avoid any real contact with my mother, but very little had gone according to plan lately, so I tamped down the urge to stomp my foot in frustration.
“Of course,” I said quietly.
Detective Hanson and Officer Ford were the next to arrive. Nico rose from his seat and spoke to them quietly, gesturing to the bookshelf where he’d placed the painting in its wooden crate. They nodded but remained standing at the side of the room when he returned to my side.
“I’ll show it to them after the will is read,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to reply, but the shrill sound of my mother’s voice in the hall prompted me to shut it with anaudible snap. For a solid three seconds, I held Nico’s gaze, summoning the strength to face the woman who’d abandoned me. When the new arrivals swept into the room, Nico and I both stood to greet them.
“Katie, my darling girl!” my mother cooed, yanking me straight into a cloud of expensive perfume. No one else had ever called me Katie, at my own request, and I tried not to grind my teeth.
Ferdinand Chesterfield stood behind her like a smarmy bodyguard, smiling in a way I was sure the man thought would appear paternal. If he so much as touched me, I was afraid I might scream. Based on the way Nico glared at the man, it seemed like screaming would be the least of our worries should Chesterfield lay a finger on me.
“Mother,” I bit out. I drew stiffly away and nodded to Chesterfield before waving a hand toward Nico. “You must remember Nicolas Beaumont?”
Nico held out a hand to my mother but was pulled into a similarly dramatic embrace. I smothered a laugh as he tried not to choke on the cloying scent of her perfume, then he scowled at the way Chesterfield leered at me.
Nico met Hanson’s curious gaze over my mother’s head. Whatever the woman babbled into his ear, I was sure he didn’t process a single word of it.
Fortunately, Compton came to the rescue. He cleared his throat and gestured to the chairs placed around the table in front of him. “If you’d all take a seat, we can get started.This shouldn’t take up much of your afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Chesterfield, my name is Wallace Compton. We spoke on the phone. I served as Mr. Willoughby’s estate lawyer. His will was updated rather recently, though the changes were only minimal.”
