Chapter 6: The Name Eleanor Gave Them
The prosecutor's name was Ms.
Vance.
She called Mr.
Sterling at half past ten and spoke for eleven minutes.
He sat at his desk with a notepad in front of him and wrote down two things.
When she finished, he read them back to her to confirm he had them right.
Then he sat for a long time looking at what he had written.
The first thing was a name: Victor Hale.
The second was a relationship: Eleanor's nephew.
A financial consultant.
Formerly employed by a private wealth management firm that had handled part of Mr.
Sterling's estate portfolio — until Mr.
Sterling had moved his accounts four years ago, following a dispute over unauthorized transactions.
He remembered Victor Hale.
He remembered the meeting where he had terminated the arrangement.
Victor had been polite.
Measured.
He had shaken Mr.
Sterling's hand at the door and said, without any particular expression, "I hope you won't regret this decision."
Mr.
Sterling had not thought about him again until now.
He called Garrett.
"Victor Hale," he said when Garrett picked up.
A short silence.
"I know that name."
"Eleanor gave him up this morning.
She says he approached her eight months ago.
He told her about the will change — he had a contact inside the solicitor's office, apparently — and he told her what it would mean for her.
He's the one who sourced the compound.
He's the one who told her how much to use."
"And Eleanor agreed."
"Eleanor agreed." Mr.
Sterling paused.
"She told the prosecutor she was frightened of him.
That once she understood what he was proposing, she wanted to back out, but he told her it was too late."
"Do you believe that?"
He thought about Eleanor's smile in the doorway.
The practiced way Cora had described her movements in the pantry.
The label, already written, pressed carefully onto the neck of the decanter.
"No," he said.
"I don't."
"Neither do I." Garrett's voice was steady.
"I'll contact the financial crimes unit.
If he ran unauthorized transactions through your old accounts, there may already be a file on him.
And if he sourced a controlled compound, that's a separate charge entirely."
"Find him quickly.
If Eleanor has already told them his name, he may already know she talked."
"Understood.
Sir — one more thing.
Ms.
Vance mentioned that Eleanor's solicitor is pushing the narrative that she was coerced.
That Victor was the architect and she was a frightened woman who didn't know how to say no."
"I heard."
"If that narrative gains traction—"
"It won't," Mr.
Sterling said.
"Because Cora watched her work.
And a frightened woman who doesn't know how to say no doesn't write a label in her own handwriting and press it onto a decanter with a silver stopper." He paused.
"Make sure Ms.
Vance has Cora's full statement in writing.
Every detail."
"Already done."
He ended the call and looked at the notepad again.
Victor Hale.
He wrote the name a second time, slowly, as if the act of writing it made it more real.
Then he thought about the dark saloon car.
The blue sticker on the rear window.
A crest of some kind.
He picked up his phone and called Diane.
She answered on the second ring.
"Did something happen?"
"Eleanor gave them a name.
Victor Hale.
Does that mean anything to you?"
A pause.
"No.
Should it?"
"He managed part of my estate portfolio until four years ago.
I terminated the arrangement after I discovered unauthorized transactions."
"You never told me about that."
"I handled it quietly.
I didn't want to involve the family." He paused.
"The car you saw, last spring — I think it was him.
I think he came here to finalize the plan with Eleanor."
Diane was quiet for a moment.
Then: "He was in our house."
"Yes."
"He stood on our front steps."
"Yes."
Her voice went tight in a way he recognized — not fear, but something harder than fear.
"What happens to him?"
"Garrett is working on it now.
If they find him quickly, he'll be charged alongside Eleanor.
Sourcing a controlled compound for the purpose of harm — that carries serious consequences."
"And if they don't find him quickly?"
He looked at the window.
The gravel outside was still smooth from the morning's raking.
"Then we make sure there is nowhere comfortable left for him to be," he said.
Diane didn't answer immediately.
Then she said: "Dad.
There's something I haven't told you yet.
I didn't think it mattered until just now."
He waited.
"The morning after you were discharged from hospital last spring — the cardiology visit, the one where they adjusted your medication — Eleanor called me.
She said she was worried about you.
She asked me very specific questions about what the doctor had said.
What your new dosage was.
Whether they'd mentioned any interactions to watch for."
The room was very still.
"I told her," Diane said.
"I thought she was asking because she cared.
I thought she needed to know so she could look after you properly." Her voice dropped.
"I told her exactly what the doctor said about your heart."
He didn't speak.
"She used what I told her," Diane said.
"Didn't she.
To know how much would be enough."
The silence between them lasted a long time.
"You didn't know," he said finally.
"That doesn't help."
"No," he said.
"But it's still true."
May you like
Outside, a bird landed on the garden wall, looked around once, and flew away.
And somewhere across the city, Victor Hale had not yet been found.
