Two survived. One did not. "The case is open." Richard looked at her steadily. "Mr. Caldwell, before I ask you anything else, I need to know one thing."
Is there anyone in your life right now, anyone at all, who would benefit financially from your death? I'm not asking you to accuse. I'm asking you to think. Richard was already thinking. He thought of Howard Henley's hand on his shoulder at Elena's funeral.
He thought of the amendment to the trust, signed in November, the language of which he had skimmed in a hurry because he had been late for a flight to Tokyo. Yes, he said quietly, I'm afraid there is. He told her in the short, careful sentences a man uses when he is trying very hard to separate what he knows from what he merely suspects because 30 years of business had taught him that the difference between those two categories was the difference between a lawsuit you win and a lawsuit you lose. He told her about Howard Henley, attorney, 58 years old, partner at Henley, Marsh and Cole. He told her about the trust, restructured in November, the amendment whose precise language he could no longer fully recall, but which he had a sudden cold suspicion had moved something significant in the trustee's direction.
He told her about the dinner six weeks ago at which Howard had asked, with the careful tone of a man fishing in shallow water, whether Richard had given any further thought to his estate planning. And had Richard considered that the foundation Elena had loved might be better served if certain discretionary powers were consolidated. He told her about the way Howard's hand had paused on the wine bottle when Richard had said he would think about it in the morning. Detective Marsh wrote, without looking down at her notebook. The pen moved across the page in small, steady strokes.
Elijah watched her hand with the quiet interest of a child who has not had many adults write things down on his behalf. "How long have you known him?" Detective Marsh asked. "thirty-one years. He drafted my first will the year I bought this house. Has he been to the property recently?" "Two weeks ago. He came for lunch."
He sat in the garden room. He was alone with the house for about 20 minutes while I took a call upstairs. The side gate has a keypad. He knows the code. He has known it for years.
Mr. Caldwell, I need to ask you to do something difficult. I need you to not call him. I need you to not text him. I need you to not signal in any way by your absence from a scheduled event or by any other behavior that something has changed. We are going to put a discreet detail on his office and his residence within the hour.