Chapter 2 - THE GUEST I TRUSTED
Anthony Vale had been married to my younger sister, Isabella, for eleven years.
He was handsome in the effortless way that made people trust him too quickly. He had a warm smile, an easy laugh, and a talent for remembering small details about people. He knew the names of waiters, the birthdays of their children, and which executives preferred bourbon over scotch.
He was also the last person I would have suspected of wanting Ethan dead.
When Frank showed me the footage, I watched it six times.
The man entered the kitchen at 7:42 p.m. He glanced toward the preparation counter, removed a small silver container from his jacket, and leaned over the cake. He used one finger to spread something across the frosting near the blue sugar decorations.
Then he walked out.
The footage lasted forty-three seconds.
“Where was Anthony at 7:42?” I asked.
Frank checked the event timeline. “He was listed in the east gallery with the mayor and Mr. Leland.”
“Listed?”
“We're checking the other cameras.”
“Get me the original footage. No copies sent through the house network.”
Frank nodded.
“Where is Anthony now?”
“West salon. He asked to use the phone.”
“Keep him there.”
Frank paused. “Do you want me to detain him?”
“Not yet. I want to know what he says.”
I left the study and crossed the corridor. The house seemed unnaturally quiet. The guests had been moved into separate rooms, and the musicians were waiting in the empty ballroom with their instruments packed away.
Anthony stood by the window in the west salon, speaking into his phone.
“I told you, it's handled,” he said softly. “Don't call me again tonight.”
He ended the call when he saw me.
“Dominic. This is a nightmare.”
I studied him.
He wore a black dinner jacket, a white shirt, and the gold watch I had given him. His hair was perfectly in place. He looked like a man who had been inconvenienced by a security scare, not a man whose wrist had appeared in footage of an attempted poisoning.
“Where were you at 7:42?”
His eyebrows lifted. “What?”
“Seven forty-two. Where were you?”
“In the gallery, I think. Why?”
“Who can confirm that?”
He gave a small laugh. “Is this an interrogation?”
“My son was almost killed.”
His expression changed. The smile disappeared.
“I'm sorry, Dom. I know. It's awful.”
“Take off your watch.”
He stared at me.
“What?”
“Your watch. Take it off.”
His eyes flicked toward Frank, who stood by the door.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Anthony slowly unfastened the strap and placed the watch on the table.
I didn't touch it.
“Where did you get that?”
“You gave it to me.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because a man wearing a watch identical to that one was seen touching my son's cake.”
Anthony's face went still.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Dominic, half the men in New York own expensive watches. You gave me this one. That doesn't mean I was in the kitchen.”
“Your watch has a distinctive blue stone in the crown.”
He looked down at it.
“It's a limited edition.”
“Only twelve were made.”
Anthony's mouth tightened.
I moved closer. “Tell me where you were.”
“In the gallery.”
“Who saw you?”
“Caroline. The mayor. Leland. A dozen other people.”
“Then it should be easy to confirm.”
He nodded too quickly. “Of course.”
I turned toward Frank. “Check the gallery footage and interview everyone who was there.”
Anthony took a step forward.
“Dom, listen. I know you're angry. I would be too. But don't make this into something it isn't.”
“Then help me understand what it is.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
I noticed a small cut near his right thumb. It looked fresh, with a narrow strip of skin missing.
“What's that?”
He glanced at his hand. “Kitchen accident. I caught it on a glass.”
“Tonight?”
“Earlier.”
“Where?”
“Near the bar.”
I looked at Frank. He made a note.
Anthony's voice hardened. “You can't seriously believe I would hurt Ethan.”
“I don't know what to believe.”
The words seemed to wound him. He lowered his gaze.
“Isabella will be devastated if you accuse me.”
“Isabella isn't the one I'm worried about right now.”
He looked up sharply.
I left him with Frank.
In the corridor, my phone rang. It was Isabella.
“Dominic, what is happening?” she asked. Her voice was strained. “Anthony says security is treating him like a criminal.”
“Where are you?”
“At home. He told me to stay there.”
“Did he?”
A pause.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Has Anthony said anything strange lately? Asked questions about Ethan's medical care? About his birthday schedule?”
“No. Why would he?”
“I'm asking you.”
She breathed out. “Dominic, please. He's your family.”
I closed my eyes.
“That's exactly why this is difficult.”
“Are you accusing him?”
“I haven't accused anyone.”
“Then let him come home.”
“Not until I know what happened.”
She went quiet.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Dominic, Anthony hasn't been wearing that watch all week.”
I looked back toward the salon.
“What?”
“The gold one. The one you gave him. He said he sent it for repair on Monday.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. He wore his silver watch at dinner on Tuesday. I remember because I asked him why he'd changed it.”
I ended the call without saying goodbye.
Frank came out of the salon.
“Sir?”
“Anthony said the watch was on his wrist tonight.”
“Yes.”
“My sister says he sent it for repair on Monday.”
Frank's eyes narrowed.
“Then the watch in the footage may not be his.”
“Or he has two.”
“Do you want me to search his belongings?”
“Get a warrant if necessary. I want the watch authenticated, and I want the repair shop identified.”
Frank nodded.
Then his radio crackled.
“Security to west entrance. We have a vehicle attempting to leave.”
Frank listened.
“Whose vehicle?”
A pause.
“Mrs. Vale's.”
My stomach tightened.
“Isabella is here?”
“No, sir. The driver says he was sent to collect Mr. Vale.”
Anthony had not asked to leave.
He had sent someone.
I looked toward the salon. The door was open. The watch was still on the table.
Anthony was gone.
“Lock down the estate,” I ordered.
Frank moved immediately.
I picked up the watch with a gloved hand and turned it over. On the back was the engraving I had commissioned:
To Anthony — family is everything. D.M.
For the first time in years, I wondered whether I had given the wrong man a symbol of my trust.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Isabella.
Dominic, I need you to listen. Anthony just called me. He said if you ask about the watch, I should tell you he lost it months ago.
I stared at the screen.
He had left a duplicate in my house.
And he had planned for the possibility that someone would recognize it.
Frank arranged for the watch to be photographed, sealed, and transferred to the police evidence unit. A specialist confirmed that its serial number matched the model I had given Anthony, but the caseback had been removed and replaced. The engraving was genuine; the movement was not. Someone had created a convincing duplicate using photographs and the original inscription.
That meant the watch in the kitchen footage could have been planted as a clue. It might have been designed to point toward Anthony, or to make me hesitate because the evidence seemed too obvious. Either possibility made the situation more dangerous.
I called the gift manufacturer. The original watch had been serviced only once, eighteen months earlier. The repair record showed a replacement clasp, not a replacement movement. The company had no record of a duplicate being ordered.
“Someone had access to the original,” Frank said.
“Or to the paperwork.”
He checked the guest list. Anthony had been in the house during the watch's last service appointment. So had Malcolm. Both men knew the serial number and the engraving.
I thought about Isabella's warning. Anthony had told her to claim he lost the watch months ago. That was not an innocent explanation. It was preparation for a question he expected me to ask.
I asked Frank to contact the repair shop and secure its records. Then I called Isabella again, this time asking her to write down every conversation she remembered about Ethan's allergy, the birthday party, and Anthony's movements during the previous month.
She agreed, but before she ended the call, she asked whether I believed her husband had done it.
“I believe someone used his name and his watch,” I said. “I need to know whether he was the man wearing it.”
It was the most honest answer I could give her.
May you like
Before dawn, I asked Frank to bring me the guest registry and the service entrance log. I wanted to know who had arrived early, who had stayed late, and who had been given temporary access. The list was longer than I expected. Vendors had brought flowers, lighting equipment, linens, and sound gear. Each had been checked by a different employee. Several signatures were missing.
I called the event coordinator and ordered her to preserve every invoice and delivery note. She sounded frightened, but I told her she would not be blamed for cooperating. I was beginning to understand how many people had been trained to stay silent around my name. If I wanted the truth, I had to make it possible for them to speak.
