Chapter 11 - The Dress and the Wire
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By six-thirty that evening, Bellavista blazed with light against the twilight sky. Valets in black livery directed a steady procession of Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and armored government sedans up the gravel sweep, while a string quartet played Vivaldi under the crystal chandeliers of the grand ballroom.
Upstairs in the second-floor library, Dominic’s chief legal counsel, Arthur Vance, sat beside a bank of high-definition audio receivers alongside Detective Lieutenant Reeves of the Rhode Island State Police Major Crimes Unit.
Down the corridor inside the conservatory dressing room, Marin stood in front of a gilt mirror. At Dominic’s insistence, she was not wearing her grey caregiver scrubs tonight; instead, she wore an understated, tailored midnight-blue silk dress that Isabella had chosen from the estate wardrobe, with a high lace collar and long sleeves that concealed both the purple bruise on her left wrist and the sub-miniature transmitter wired beneath her collarbone.
The conservatory door clicked open without a knock.
Vivien Morrow swept inside, radiant and regal in a custom Valentino gown spun from silver thread and white silk, a diamond tiara comb glittering in her blonde hair. She shut the heavy mahogany door behind her and engaged the brass privacy latch.
"Well, look at you," Vivien said, her voice dropping its ballroom sweetness the instant the lock clicked. She walked slowly around Marin, inspecting the midnight-blue silk with a curl of her lip. "Did Dominic buy you a costume so the help wouldn't embarrass us on the main stage?"
Marin kept her hands folded calmly in front of her skirt, her gaze steady in the mirror.
"Mrs. Varelli asked me to wear this tonight, Miss Morrow," Marin said quietly.
"Mrs. Varelli doesn't know what day of the week it is," Vivien snapped, stepping close enough that her reflection crowded Marin’s in the glass. "Listen to me very carefully, Marin. In twenty minutes, after my father finishes his toast, Dominic and I will step up to the dais beside Isabella’s wheelchair. I am going to ask Isabella if she gives her formal blessing for our marriage and for the consolidation of the Varelli voting shares into the Morrow family trust. Isabella will tap that pathetic little board of hers, and you will lean into the microphone and announce that she said yes, unconditionally."
"You broke her board yesterday," Marin said evenly, giving the state police recording team upstairs the exact verbal prompt they needed. "Right before you reminded me about Eli’s blue backpack and his asthma inhaler at St. Francis Academy."
Vivien smiled coldly into the mirror, completely blind to the trap closing around her throat.
"Then it’s a good thing you have such a sharp memory for details, isn't it?" Vivien whispered, reaching out to smooth the lace collar at Marin’s throat with two icy fingers. "Because if you stumble over a single word at that microphone tonight, the man who took those lovely photographs of Eli on Elm Street will be waiting at the bus stop on Monday morning—and he won't be carrying a camera next time. Do we understand each other?"
"Perfectly, Miss Morrow," Marin said.
Upstairs in the library, Detective Lieutenant Reeves took off his headphones and looked up at Dominic, who stood silently behind the console in a razor-sharp black tuxedo.
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"That’s felony witness tampering, first-degree extortion, and conspiracy to harm a minor on a clean state wire," Lieutenant Reeves said grimly. "My troopers are in the service hallway whenever you want to pull the pin, Mr. Varelli."
"Give her twenty minutes, Lieutenant," Dominic said, adjusting his silver cufflinks. "Her father is about to make a toast."
