Chapter 5: Whispers in the Servants' Quarters
Downstairs, the front door clicked shut as the second wave of crime scene investigators arrived, carrying heavy silver aluminum cases and specialized lighting equipment. Clara slipped away from the foyer before any of the officers could question her further, retreating down the narrow service stairs that led to the subterranean floor housing the laundry and the servants' quarters.
The basement was cool and damp, illuminated only by intermittent fluorescent tubes that hummed with a low, irritating frequency. Clara unlocked the door to her small room—a cramped, tidy space dominated by a single iron-framed bed and a battered wooden desk covered in textbooks and nursing school pamphlets.
She slammed the door shut, locking it securely behind her, before pulling a burner phone out from beneath her mattress. Her hands were no longer shaking. The hysterical crying upstairs in the dining room had been a masterpiece of physical performance, timed down to the exact second to ensure Rohesen discovered the decoy syringe exactly when and where he was meant to find it.
She dialed a local number, pressing the plastic device tightly against her ear. It rang twice before a raspy, familiar voice answered on the other end.
"It’s me," Clara said, her tone entirely devoid of the trembling vulnerability she had projected upstairs. "The trap worked. Rohesen found the syringe. Vance has Eleanor locked down in interrogation, and Rohesen just went through her vanity. He’s currently having a psychological breakdown upstairs reading the Zurich medical files."
"Are you certain he bought the setup?" the voice on the other end asked, laced with heavy skepticism.
"He bought every word of it," Clara replied, a cold smile touching the corners of her mouth. "He thinks Eleanor was trying to save him by gathering evidence of his own self-administered toxicity, while simultaneously believing she was the architect of his slow demise. The man is completely disoriented. He doesn't know who to trust, which means he's entirely in our hands now."
"And the police?"
"Vance is focused entirely on Eleanor's supposed financial motives and the physical evidence on the chair leg. They haven't looked at the estate's internal financial transfers from six months ago—the ones routing millions through offshore shell accounts managed by Rohesen's own holding company."
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"Keep him isolated," the voice commanded. "Do not let him leave the house tonight. If he starts talking to independent legal counsel outside our sphere of influence, the entire foundation collapses."
Clara hung up without saying goodbye. She walked over to the small mirror hanging above her tiny sink, wiping away the remaining fake tear streaks from her cheeks, and stared at her own reflection with cold, calculating eyes.
