Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE EVELYN GAVE THEM
The coffin did not open that day.
The medical examiner's office sent an investigator instead.
The funeral home chapel became an interview site.
Adrian's body remained sealed in the preparation area under preservation order until county authorities decided whether jurisdiction should be reopened.
Guests were told the service had been postponed because of “an unexpected administrative issue.”
No one believed that.
By sunset, two financial reporters were already asking why the Hart funeral had stopped midway through visitation.
Evelyn did not care yet.
She cared about the iPad.
Samuel Price brought the funeral authorization packet into Grant Bell's office.
Nine pages.
Evelyn's electronic signature appeared six times.
Disposition authority.
Embalming authorization.
Closed-casket instruction.
Transfer to Hart family mausoleum.
She stared.
“I requested closed casket?”
Samuel answered carefully.
“You approved it.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Julian leaned back.
“Evelyn, Adrian had suffered head trauma when he collapsed.”
Her eyes went to him.
“Head trauma?”
“He hit the stone edge of the hearth.”
“You told me he had a cardiac arrest.”
“He did.”
“Then why didn't you tell me about the head injury?”
Julian looked at Samuel.
Again.
Evelyn slammed one hand against the table.
“Stop looking at the lawyer every time I ask about my husband.”
Julian's expression hardened.
“I arrived after he'd collapsed.”
“Who found him?”
“Housekeeper.”
“Who called you?”
“His security office.”
“Before me?”
“Yes.”
That was true.
Evelyn had been at a museum board dinner in Boston.
Adrian collapsed at their Manhattan townhouse shortly after nine.
Julian lived twelve blocks away.
He reached the house before Evelyn even received the call.
Evelyn caught a late flight home.
By the time she arrived after midnight, Adrian's body had already been transferred.
She never saw him.
Not at the house.
Not at the hospital.
Not at the funeral home.
Every time she'd asked, someone said:
Better to remember him as he was.
And she accepted it.
Partly because she was devastated.
Partly because she was vain enough about grief to prefer a beautiful last memory.
That belonged to her too.
Evelyn turned to Nora.
“Did Adrian think someone was going to kill him?”
Nora's expression did not change.
“I don't know.”
“That's the first honest thing you've said.”
“I've barely said anything.”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“You knew he wanted an autopsy.”
“Yes.”
“You had this box.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was at this funeral home.”
“Yes.”
“And you waited until his funeral?”
“That was his instruction.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Evelyn's patience snapped.
“Who are you?”
Nora reached into her coat again.
This time she removed a folded contract.
Placed it on Grant's desk.
Adrian's signature.
Private Research Services Agreement.
Client:
Adrian Hart.
Researcher:
Nora Quinn.
Start date:
Seven months earlier.
Evelyn looked up.
“You worked for him.”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
Nora opened the second page.
The project line contained one name.
CELESTE QUINN — RECORDS 1992–1994
Evelyn looked at Nora's surname.
Then back at the page.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
Julian stood.
“No.”
The force of it made everyone turn.
For the first time all day, Julian Hart looked genuinely frightened.
Evelyn stared.
“You know Celeste Quinn.”
Julian said nothing.
Nora watched him.
Evelyn understood something ugly before she understood anything useful.
Whatever Adrian had been researching—
May you like
Julian had not just heard about it.
He had hoped never to hear that woman's name again.
