Chapter 14 - The Final Call
The shrill ringing of the library telephone reverberated off the dark mahogany bookshelves, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. Evelyn and Maya froze, staring at the old-fashioned rotary phone resting on the corner of the desk as if it were a venomous snake. Clara stood motionless beside the open wall safe, the artificial peach peony flower clutched tightly in her small hands, her unblinking eyes fixed on the blinking red message light.
"Don't answer it," Maya whispered, her hand tightening around the polaroid photograph she had just picked up from the rug.
"We have to," Evelyn replied, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a steel resolve. "Whoever is on the other end of that line knows why Arthur kept this waste disposal file hidden for thirty years."
Evelyn stepped across the room, her hand hovering over the receiver for a three-second beat before she lifted it to her ear.
"Evelyn," a voice purred through the static-laced line. It wasn't Arthur, and it wasn't Julian. It was Richard.
Evelyn’s grip on the handset tightened until her knuckles turned white. "You're in federal custody, Richard. How are you calling me?"
"People in my line of work always have a contingency plan, my dear," Richard’s voice replied smoothly, sounding entirely too relaxed for a man whose criminal empire had just collapsed. "And let’s be honest, the police are far too busy untangling Arthur’s mess to pay attention to a minor administrative transfer in the booking office."
"What do you want, Richard?" Evelyn demanded, stepping toward the open window to look out at the courtyard below, where police cruisers were still stationed. "You lost. The accounts are frozen, the board is dissolved, and your co-conspirators are going away for the rest of their lives."
"Did you really think a few frozen bank accounts would stop a man like me?" Richard laughed softly, a chilling, hollow sound. "I didn't spend twenty years building this foundation just to watch it crumble over a family feud. I called because I wanted to offer you a choice."
"I don't negotiate with criminals," Evelyn hissed.
"It’s not a negotiation, Evelyn. It’s an eviction," Richard replied, his tone dropping its polite veneer, turning sharp and cold. "Look out the library window."
Evelyn turned sharply, pressing her face against the glass pane. Down in the courtyard, the last remaining patrol car’s headlights suddenly flickered and died. A thick, unnatural plume of grey smoke began billowing from the basement vent near the old boathouse, smelling faintly of sulfur and burning plastic.
"You set the estate on fire," Evelyn whispered, absolute horror freezing her blood.
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"I told you," Richard’s voice whispered in her ear before the line went dead with a sharp click. "The river never forgets what the fire tries to hide."
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