Chapter 8: Every Signature Counts

The board removed me from daily control of Vescari Harbor before lunch.

Gideon did not get my seat. Helen had sent every director a copy of the preservation notice and informed them that the police held my ledger. With both partners under scrutiny, they appointed an interim manager and froze access to the Pier Nine records.

I handed over my building pass without arguing. I had spent years believing control was the same thing as responsibility. For the first time, I had neither.

Nora learned the news from me, not from a headline. She was at Grace’s kitchen table while Maisie drew a rabbit with six legs.

“Does Gideon still have access to the files?” she asked.

“No. The interim manager does. The police can request them.”

“That’s useful.”

“It cost me my position.”

“I heard you.” She placed the phone on speaker so she could keep an eye on Maisie. “I’m deciding what I think about it.”

Her honesty made me smile despite myself.

Vega called that afternoon. The ledger’s entries had given investigators a way to trace the consulting firm. They were also contacting the insurance company that held the original alarm logs.

Nora had spent the morning searching Evan’s old contacts. She found the name of the city fire inspector assigned to visit Pier Nine the morning after the fire: Walter Ames. He had retired and moved to a town two hours away.

“I want to talk to him,” she said.

Vega asked her to wait until investigators made contact. Nora agreed not to surprise him at home, but she wrote down every question she wanted answered. By the time Vega arranged an interview for the following day, Nora had filled four pages.

I drove her there. She had asked me to, though she made it clear that I would wait outside unless Ames agreed to see me.

“He may shut down if he sees your face,” she said.

“He may.”

“Then don’t make me manage your pride too.”

I stayed in the car.

Ames lived in a modest brick house with a porch that needed paint. Vega met Nora at the front walk. I watched them go inside and spent the next hour looking at a gate across the street that hung crookedly from one hinge.

When Nora came out, she did not get into the car immediately. She stood at the curb until Vega finished a call. Then she opened the passenger door.

“Ames remembers Evan,” she said.

“What did he say?”

“He was supposed to meet him at the warehouse at seven the next morning. Evan said the alarm system had been disconnected during night deliveries. Ames planned to see it for himself.”

“And the fire began before he arrived.”

“Ames said Evan called him that evening. Evan was angry. Someone had told the warehouse manager about the inspection.”

I looked toward the house. “Did Ames tell Gideon?”

“He says he didn’t.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I believe he’s afraid of what Vega already found.”

Vega had shown him a payment entry from the ledger. Ames recognized the consulting firm. He had received money through it in the weeks after the fire. He claimed the payment was for an unrelated review.

“He didn’t put that in his original statement,” Nora said. “Vega asked him why.”

“What was his answer?”

“He said nobody asked.”

Nora pulled her seat belt across her chest with an angry jerk. “Everyone in this case waited for exactly the question that would let them tell less.”

I started the car. “Including me.”

She looked over. “Yes.”

For the first time, her answer did not end the conversation.

At the insurance company’s records office, investigators were reviewing the sealed Pier Nine file. A few hours later Vega called with the first result: the alarm system had registered manual overrides on three nights before the fire. The final override occurred shortly before Evan entered the warehouse.

The records did not identify the person who used the controls. They did show that the system was functioning when my company received the report blaming faulty wiring.

Nora gripped the phone. “So the report I was given was wrong.”

“Yes,” Vega said. “We’re establishing who changed it.”

“And Tessa?”

“We’ve located a former address and a car registered to her. We haven’t found her yet.”

Nora thanked her and ended the call. We had stopped at a diner on the way back because Peter had insisted she eat. Her sandwich sat untouched.

“You should tell Maisie you’ll be late,” I said.

“I already did.”

I picked up half my sandwich and put it down again. Nora noticed.

“What?” she asked.

“I should have checked that report.”

“You should have.” She looked out at the traffic passing the diner window. “Evan would have hated you.”

“He would have had reason.”

“He also would have asked why you kept the ledger.”

“I didn’t keep it for him.”

“I know. It helped him anyway.”

The admission was small. I held on to it without asking for more.

Vega called again before we reached Grace’s house. Ames had asked to add to his statement. His first account had been incomplete.

“He says he received a second payment,” Vega told us. “He knew it was meant to make him stop asking about the manual override. He’s giving us the account details.”

“Was it Gideon’s firm?” Nora asked.

“No.”

Vega named the company that had sent it.

I pulled to the curb. I knew the name. It was a security contractor my company had hired before Caleb became head of the estate team.

Nora saw me recognize it.

“Caleb worked there?” she asked.

“For years. Gideon recommended him to me afterward.”

The road ahead blurred under a sudden rush of headlights. I remembered Caleb reviewing my security needs, patiently explaining blind spots and access controls. He had known the layout of Pier Nine before I ever showed him a plan of my house.

“He was there before the fire,” Nora said.

I nodded.

We had thought Caleb was helping Gideon cover up an old crime. He had been close enough to the warehouse to help commit it.