Chapter 14: Not One Piece of Paper

Constance's suite had a lake view and a tea tray set for two.

She poured before I sat down.

"Sugar, dear? You always took two."

"No, thank you."

I had left Jamie with Rocco and Vittorio, on the floor of my flat with the wooden train.

Quentin sat on the sofa behind them, watching all three.

It was the strangest childcare I had ever arranged.

Constance folded her hands in her lap.

"I want to start by saying I never stopped being fond of you," she said. "That's true, whatever you decide to believe."

"You bought my ticket at six in the morning."

"I did."

"And you gave me the bangle at seven."

"I did that too."

She smiled, and it was the warm smile from the sitting room.

"I wanted you gone, Sabina," Constance said. "I'll say that to your face in a room with no one else in it."

She sipped her tea.

"I would never say it in front of a judge."

The tea went cold in my hand.

"You cut the recording."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"You forged the transfer."

"Prove it," Constance said pleasantly. "The recording is your voice. The transfer is your account."

She set down her cup.

"The ticket was a kindness, and my driver will say I was weeping when I handed it over."

"You were not weeping."

"I have spent thirty years being very careful, my dear. You have not got one piece of paper that names me."

"I have a mailroom stamp," I said. "The forged file left the executive floor at ten past six."

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