Chapter 6 - THE CASHMERE COAT
Arthur stepped into the conservatory. The gun in his hand was perfectly steady, pointing squarely at Tristan’s chest.
“Arthur?” Tristan’s voice was a dangerous, low rumble. He slowly stood up from Evelyn’s body. “What is this?”
“Cleaning up a mess, boss,” Arthur said casually, his voice echoing in the glass room. “Evelyn was always too sentimental. I slipped a little something into her pitcher before you arrived. Quick. Almost painless.”
My mind raced. Arthur? But Arthur was the one guarding my mother. Arthur was the one who handed Tristan the empty vial of drugs at the hotel.
“You framed Marcus,” I blurted out, the pieces suddenly locking together in a horrific picture.
Arthur’s smile widened. “Marcus is a greedy fool. He gave me the perfect cover. He thought he was hiring you, Lily, to keep you quiet. But I made sure you ended up in Tristan’s bed. I made sure the laser pointer was seen. I sent the photograph.”
“Why?” Tristan demanded.
“Because the board is voting on the CEO position on Friday,” Arthur said, taking a step closer. “Marcus wants it. But a scandal—a dead secretary, a drugged boss, a corrupt VP—that sinks both of you. And the board will hand the reins to the man who saved the company’s assets. Me.”
He gestured toward the hallway with the gun. “Now, back away from her. Both of you.”
I remembered Evelyn’s dying words. It’s in the coat.
I glanced toward the hall closet behind Arthur. I had to get there.
“Arthur, my mother is at the hospital,” I said, keeping my voice panicked, playing the terrified girl he thought I was. “Please, just let me see her.”
“Your mother is fine, Lily. She’s my insurance.”
“Insurance for what?” Tristan asked, subtly shifting his weight, placing himself slightly in front of me.
“For the vault,” Arthur snapped. “Now move!”
As Tristan stepped forward, I feigned a stumble, crashing hard into a heavy marble pedestal holding a fern. The heavy pot tipped, shattering across the tile floor.
Arthur flinched at the noise, his gun wavering for a fraction of a second.
Tristan lunged.
He slammed into Arthur, driving him backward into the hallway. The gun went off with a muffled thwip, the bullet shattering a pane of conservatory glass.
I didn’t wait. I scrambled past them as they grappled on the floor, diving for the open coat closet in the hall.
Dozens of expensive jackets hung in the dark. I frantically dug through the pockets. It’s in the coat.
My fingers brushed heavy, soft wool. A gray cashmere coat. I shoved my hand into the deep pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.
“Lily, run!” Tristan yelled.
Arthur had managed to get his knee into Tristan’s stomach, throwing him off. He leveled the gun at me.
I ducked as a bullet tore through the wooden doorframe next to my head.
Tristan grabbed Arthur’s ankle, pulling him down again. “Get to the cellar!”
I bolted down the hallway, taking the stairs to the basement two at a time. The cellar was dark, smelling of earth and vintage wine. I hit the concrete floor and scrambled behind a massive oak wine rack, clutching the envelope to my chest.
Footsteps pounded above me.
Then, a heavy metal door slammed at the top of the stairs. A deadbolt slid into place with a terrifying, final click.
Silence.
“Tristan?” I called out, my voice shaking.
No answer.
Then, a new sound cut through the dark. A soft, steady hissing.
I smelled it immediately. Gasoline.
Arthur wasn’t coming down here to shoot me. He was going to burn the house down with us inside.
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“Tristan!” I screamed, running back to the stairs, pounding on the heavy steel door.
From the other side, I heard the flick of a lighter.
