Chapter 6: The Envelope and the East Gate
Harmon was a large man who had worked the Rossi estate for three years and had never once looked Beatrice in the eye.
He looked at her now.
He was sitting in the small security office beside the east gate, and he was looking at her the way people look at someone they underestimated and are only now understanding they should not have.
Mateo stood behind him.
Two of Leo's other men stood at the door.
Leo sat across the table from Harmon.
Beatrice stood to the side, close enough to hear, far enough to make clear she was a witness and not a participant.
"The envelopes," Leo said.
Harmon's hands were on the table.
He had not been told why he was pulled from the gate.
He had not been told what they knew.
He had simply been walked in here, and that walk had been enough to change the color of his face.
"I don't know what you're—"
"Every second Friday," Leo said.
"For six months.
The last one arrived eight days ago.
I have the delivery log."
Harmon's jaw moved without producing words.
"I'm not interested in what you spent it on," Leo said.
"I'm interested in what you gave them in return.
Specifically, what you told them about tonight."
"I haven't told anyone anything about tonight.
I didn't know anything about tonight."
"But you have a contact number."
Harmon said nothing.
"Harmon." Leo's voice did not rise.
"My daughter stopped breathing today.
In my house.
While you were on that gate." He leaned forward slightly.
"Give me the number."
The silence lasted eleven seconds.
Beatrice counted.
Then Harmon's hand moved to his jacket pocket.
He placed a folded piece of paper on the table.
Leo did not touch it.
He looked at Mateo.
Mateo photographed it, unfolded it, photographed the number inside, and handed it to one of the men at the door.
"Is that the only contact?" Leo asked.
"Yes."
"Has anyone called you tonight?
Since you came on shift?"
"No."
"If anyone calls that number from this property in the next six hours," Leo said, "I will know.
And I will know it was you." He stood.
"You're done here.
Don't leave the grounds."
Harmon nodded.
His hands were shaking slightly.
Beatrice followed Leo out of the security office and into the cold night air.
The gravel was damp.
The estate lights cast long shadows across the lawn.
"You knew about Harmon for six months," Leo said.
It was not an accusation.
It was a question wearing the shape of a statement.
"I suspected," Beatrice said.
"I saw the envelopes twice.
I didn't know who was sending them."
"But you connected it to Victoria."
"I connected it to the pattern.
Victoria needed eyes on the estate when you weren't here.
She needed to know when deliveries arrived, when your schedule changed, when guests came through the east gate." Beatrice paused.
"She needed to know things that a fiancée shouldn't need to know."
Leo stopped walking.
He turned to look at the main house — the lit windows, the long facade, the place he had built for his family and which had, without his knowing, been infiltrated so completely that the woman he trusted had been feeding information to the man who had k*lled his wife.
"How did I not see it?" he said.
It was not a question he was asking her.
But she answered it anyway.
"Because you were grieving," she said.
"And she was very good."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Go back inside," he said.
"Check on Lily."
"Leo." She used his name without thinking, without the Mr.
Rossi she had trained herself to say.
He didn't correct her.
"Victoria said tonight wasn't over.
She meant it."
"I know she meant it."
"Her father has resources that—"
"I know what her father has." He turned to look at her.
In the estate lights, his face was tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour.
"Beatrice.
I need you to trust that I understand the size of this."
She held his gaze.
"I need you to understand that I have been watching this house for three years and I have seen things that no one asked me to see, because no one thought to ask me.
I am telling you now.
Whatever Victoria is planning, she will not wait for morning."
He studied her face.
"What do you think she'll do?" he asked.
"I think she'll try to get to Elena before Elena can talk to anyone official.
I think she'll use her father's people to do it.
And I think she already made one call before she left this house tonight — from a phone you don't know she has."
Leo was very still.
"A second phone," he said.
"I've seen her with it twice.
She kept it in the lining of her coat.
The ivory one she wears to evening events."
Leo turned back toward the house.
He was already reaching for his phone.
"Mateo," he said when the call connected.
"The ivory coat.
In her dressing room.
Find it."
He walked back inside.
Beatrice stood alone on the gravel for a moment, the cold air settling around her, the estate quiet in the way that things are quiet just before they stop being quiet.
Then she went inside too.
May you like
She had a child to check on.
And the night was far from over.
