Chapter Two The Garden Gate
No one spoke for several seconds.
Arthur Wexler's eyes remained fixed on Camille, but it was Margaret who finally broke the silence.
"Ask Mr. Donovan to bring the footage here."
Paul inclined his head.
"Right away."
He disappeared from the library, closing the door gently behind him.
Camille exhaled slowly.
"This is becoming ridiculous."
Margaret folded her hands.
"Then explain."
"I couldn't sleep."
"So you left the estate before sunrise?"
"I went for a walk."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Through the locked garden gate?"
Camille hesitated.
"I have a key."
"You have a house key," Margaret corrected. "Not a security key."
"I borrowed one."
"From whom?"
No answer.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she had suddenly become someone he had never met.
"When did lying become so easy for you?"
The question struck harder than any accusation.
Camille's eyes glistened.
"I am not lying."
"Then tell us where you went."
"I..."
She looked toward the window overlooking the east lawn.
"I can't."
Lena noticed the choice of words.
Not won't.
Can't.
There was a difference.
Before anyone could respond, Dr. Nathan Shaw entered the library carrying a leather medical case.
The physician had treated Arthur for nearly twenty years.
Tall, gray-haired, and impossible to rattle, he greeted everyone with a brief nod before setting his bag on a side table.
"Margaret said there was a problem."
Without a word, Margaret handed him the sealed glass jar containing the partially dissolved capsule.
Dr. Shaw adjusted his glasses.
He didn't touch the capsule directly.
Instead, he turned the jar slowly in the light.
His expression changed almost immediately.
"Where did this come from?"
"It was in Arthur's morning tonic."
The doctor's eyes lifted.
"Who put it there?"
Silence answered him.
"I need the truth," he said firmly.
"Lena saw Camille."
Dr. Shaw looked at Camille.
"Did you?"
She swallowed.
"Yes."
The room seemed to grow smaller.
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
Dr. Shaw didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he unscrewed the lid just enough to smell the contents.
Then he closed it again.
"I'll need laboratory confirmation."
"But?"
"It doesn't smell like any medication I've prescribed."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
"What does it smell like?"
The doctor looked uncomfortable.
"Bitter almonds."
Lena frowned.
The phrase sounded oddly familiar.
Margaret noticed.
"You've heard that before?"
Lena nodded slowly.
"My father."
"When I was little."
"He used to say certain poisons smelled like almonds."
No one spoke.
Dr. Shaw finally broke the silence.
"Not everyone can detect that scent."
Arthur's face remained unreadable.
"Are you suggesting someone tried to poison me?"
"I'm suggesting that I won't speculate until the capsule is tested."
"But you have concerns."
"Yes."
Serious ones.
An hour later, Bellweather House no longer felt like a home.
It felt like a crime scene.
The breakfast staff had been quietly dismissed.
Housekeepers worked only in the west wing.
Every exterior door remained locked.
Margaret insisted that no one leave the property.
Lena sat in the small medical room beside the kitchen while Dr. Shaw examined her shoulder.
"No fracture."
He wrapped her elbow carefully.
"Severe bruising."
"I'll live."
He smiled faintly.
"So I've heard."
After he finished, he paused.
"Lena."
"Yes?"
"You've worked here a long time."
"Nineteen years."
"Have you ever seen anything unusual involving Camille before today?"
Lena hesitated.
She didn't like gossip.
Never had.
But this wasn't gossip anymore.
"There were little things."
"What kind of things?"
"Phone calls she'd end the moment someone entered."
"Packages delivered to the greenhouse instead of the front door."
"She dismissed staff earlier than necessary."
"And twice..."
She frowned, remembering.
"I saw her searching Mr. Wexler's study."
Dr. Shaw looked up.
"Searching?"
"As though she was looking for something."
"Did she find it?"
"I don't know."
He made no notes.
Instead, he thanked her quietly and left.
Lena remained seated for several moments.
Her shoulder ached.
But something else bothered her more.
Camille had never behaved like a woman trying to become part of the Wexler family.
She had behaved like someone trying to gain access to it.
Meanwhile, Margaret entered Arthur's private office.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and old books.
Every major decision in Wexler Industries had once been made here.
Arthur was standing at the window despite Dr. Shaw's instructions to rest.
"You shouldn't be up."
"I needed to think."
Margaret closed the door behind her.
"About Camille?"
"No."
Arthur surprised her.
"I'm thinking about timing."
She frowned.
"What timing?"
"The capsule."
"The security footage."
"My illness."
He turned toward her.
"None of this happened by accident."
Margaret knew that look.
It was the same expression Arthur wore before discovering financial fraud inside his own company years earlier.
Pieces were already fitting together inside his mind.
"Three weeks ago," Arthur said quietly, "someone convinced me I had pneumonia."
"You did have pneumonia."
"Yes."
"But what if..."
He paused.
"...someone needed me weak?"
Margaret felt a chill.
"You think this started before today."
"I think today was only supposed to be the ending."
Late that afternoon, security director Michael Donovan arrived carrying a tablet computer.
Former FBI.
Methodical.
Careful.
He connected the device to the large television in Arthur's office.
"I've reviewed every exterior camera."
The footage began.
6:12 a.m.
The eastern garden gate opened.
Camille stepped through wearing dark athletic clothes instead of the elegant dress she had later appeared in.
A baseball cap hid most of her face.
She looked over her shoulder twice before walking toward the woods beyond the estate.
The video skipped ahead.
6:47 a.m.
She returned.
This time carrying something inside her jacket.
She paused before re-entering the grounds.
Reached into her pocket.
Looked at a small object in her hand.
Then slipped it away.
"What was that?" Arthur asked.
Michael enlarged the frame.
The image became grainy.
Still...
One detail stood out.
A tiny red capsule.
Exactly the same color Lena had seen disappear into the tonic.
Arthur slowly lowered himself into his chair.
"So she brought it back."
Michael nodded.
"It appears so."
Margaret looked at the timestamp again.
"Can we see where she went after entering the house?"
Michael's expression darkened.
"That's the problem."
"What problem?"
"Camera Four."
The screen switched.
Static.
Nothing but black.
"For exactly eleven minutes."
Arthur looked up sharply.
"Equipment failure?"
Michael shook his head.
"No."
"The recording was manually deleted."
Silence filled the office.
Only three people had authorization to erase security footage.
Michael Donovan.
Margaret Wexler.
And...
Arthur frowned.
"...Camille."
Michael nodded once.
"When you married her last year, Mr. Wexler authorized full household access."
Arthur closed his eyes.
He remembered signing the paperwork.
It had seemed harmless.
An act of trust.
Now it looked like the worst decision he had made in years.
Just then, Michael's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
"I've just received a call from the laboratory."
"So quickly?" Margaret asked.
"They rushed the sample because Dr. Shaw marked it urgent."
Arthur stood.
"What did they find?"
Michael looked from Arthur to Margaret before answering.
"The capsule contained traces of a rare cardiac suppressant."
Margaret's breath caught.
Arthur remained perfectly still.
"It wouldn't kill a healthy adult."
Michael continued quietly.
"But according to the toxicologist..."
He swallowed.
"...given Mr. Wexler's current heart condition after pneumonia..."
"...one capsule could have caused complete cardiac arrest within an hour."
The room fell silent.
There was no longer any doubt.
May you like
Someone had not merely endangered Arthur Wexler.
Someone had carefully calculated exactly how to make his death look natural.
