Chapter 5 - DON’T TOUCH THE BIRTHDAY CAKEIt was a small key.
Nathaniel closed his fist around it.
I saw the movement.
So did Thomas.
“Place the item on the table,” the security director said.
Nathaniel frowned.
“It’s my car key.”
“Then placing it down should not be a problem.”
Nathaniel opened his hand.
The key was brass.
Old.
Too small for a car.
It belonged to one of the castle’s interior cabinets.
“Which lock?” I asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“You carried it in your dinner jacket without knowing what it opened?”
“It may be from my office.”
His office was in Charleston.
The key bore a tiny engraved W.
Whitaker.
Rebecca wiped her tears.
“I gave it to him.”
Nathaniel turned toward her.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
She looked at me.
“It opens Father’s document cabinet in the library.”
My late husband’s cabinet had remained locked since his death.
It contained family papers, private letters, and older estate records.
I kept the only key in my bedroom safe.
At least, I believed I did.
“How did you obtain a copy?”
Rebecca’s voice fell.
“I borrowed yours.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Why?”
“Nathaniel needed an old property map.”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “I never asked for that.”
Mother and son stared at each other.
Their alliance was failing.
Rebecca had admitted enough to implicate him.
He was willing to abandon her immediately.
I looked at the cake.
“Thomas, preserve everything in this room. No food or drink leaves.”
“Understood.”
Nathaniel laughed without humor.
“You think someone poisoned a birthday cake?”
“I think someone prepared a marked serving.”
“That isn’t evidence.”
“It is a reason not to eat it.”
Rebecca moved toward the cake.
Thomas stopped her.
“I only want to cover it,” she said.
“No one touches the table.”
She stepped back.
The house staff waited in the corridor.
Several had helped prepare the party.
I asked whether any had seen the blue bottle.
No one had.
The pastry chef confirmed that the sugar pearl was not part of the design.
Someone added it after delivery.
Only four people had been alone in the dining hall that evening.
Nathaniel.
Rebecca.
The family physician, Dr. Lawrence Hale.
And the event coordinator.
Clara had been present most of the time but left briefly to change her dress.
“Where is Dr. Hale?” I asked.
Nathaniel answered.
“On his way.”
“For a party that begins tomorrow?”
“He wanted to check your blood pressure.”
“At night?”
“You’ve been tired.”
“I am ninety. Fatigue is not a conspiracy.”
Snow called from the library.
“Blue bottle!”
Then he imitated the sound of a cork leaving glass.
Clara appeared in the doorway.
“Grandmother, Snow keeps saying something else.”
“What?”
She looked at Nathaniel.
“Change the will before midnight.”
May you like
I turned toward my grandson.
His confidence finally disappeared.
Related Stories
