Chapter 61: The Greenhouse Rule

 

Elara read her mother's note three times before she trusted herself to speak.

“The room beneath the greenhouse,” she repeated.

Rhys knelt beside her. “There is no room beneath the greenhouse.”

“You're certain?”

“I played there as a boy. My grandfather kept orchids under glass. The floor is stone.”

“Stone can cover a staircase.”

Brandt's officer sealed the note in an evidence sleeve. “No one is taking the keys anywhere until they're photographed and logged.”

Elara withdrew her hand from the cedar chest.

“I wasn't going to steal them.”

“I didn't say you were, madame.”

But she had been imagining the brass turning in a lock, the first breath from a room Lucille had wanted her to find.

She bent over the open chest once more. Beneath the scorched spoon lay a strip of dried green ribbon. She lifted it with her eyes, not her hands, and remembered her mother tying the same shade around sample bottles. Green had meant a formula wasn't finished. Not ready to be worn. Not ready to be sold.

Perhaps the room wasn't finished with them either.

Rhys stood. “We can request access to the grounds.”

“From Augustin?”

“From the estate's legal custodian. At present, that's me.”

Priya looked up from her tablet. “Not quite. Your grandfather transferred maintenance authority for the greenhouse to a family trust last month.”

“Which trust?”

“The Augustin Calloway Botanical Foundation.”

Elara let out a brittle laugh. “Another foundation.”

Priya continued scrolling. “Theo is listed as a trustee.”

Rhys's expression cooled. “Of course he is.”

 

They left the keys with the officer and returned to the hospital. Outside Odette's room, Elara stood for a long time with the photograph of the note on her phone.

Lucille had written when she is old enough to ask.

Old enough to ask whom? Odette? Augustin? The dead?

She had spent most of her marriage asking permission to use work she'd created. Now a dead woman's handwriting appeared to offer her something that had always been hers, and an old man could shut a gate against her. The unfairness made her fingers stiff. She put the phone away before anger could turn her careless.

Rhys came to stand beside her.

“I'm going to call Theo,” he said.

“You don't trust him.”

“No.”

“Then don't ask him to help us secretly. Ask him where we stand, and listen to what he refuses to say.”

Rhys regarded her. “You make suspicion sound almost civilized.”

“It should be. Otherwise it becomes another excuse to hurt people.”

He dialed.

Theo answered with a weary, “What now?”

“Who controls the greenhouse?” Rhys asked.

A pause. “Why?”

“There's a possibility an older structure lies beneath it. I need access to inspect the floor.”

“Don't go there.”

Elara exchanged a glance with Rhys.

“Is that advice,” Rhys asked, “or an order?”

“Neither. Grandfather had the locks changed yesterday. The gardeners were sent away. He says there's a contamination problem.”

“What kind?”

“He wouldn't tell me. But he had men cover the glass with tarpaulins.”

Rhys's voice became dangerously quiet. “Is anyone inside?”

“I don't know.”

“Find out.”

Theo exhaled. “Rhys, if you go charging in, you'll give him exactly what he wants.”

The call ended.

 

Brandt would not authorize an immediate search based solely on the note. The greenhouse was private property, and the key had not been tested against any lock.

Elara hated how reasonable he sounded.

“We can ask the estate to preserve the site,” he said. “And check whether the contamination claim has been reported to local authorities.”

“Do it,” Rhys replied.

As Brandt left, Elara glanced at Rhys. “You're going to House Calloway anyway.”

“I was considering it.”

“Then consider something else.”

“What?”

“Let me come with you when we can go lawfully. It's my mother's note.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

“I was afraid you'd say that.”

“Because it's dangerous?”

“Because I'm beginning to care more about keeping you safe than being right.”

Elara felt warmth climb her throat.

“Those aren't always opposite things,” she said.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered, then fell away as Priya entered.

“Rhys. A gardener from the estate called our office. He asked for Elara by name.”

“Why?”

“He says he knew Lucille.”

Elara's heart knocked once, hard.

Priya handed over her phone. A man's frightened voice emerged from the speaker.

“Madame Quinn? Your mother made me promise never to open the lower door without her daughter present.”

Elara gripped the phone. “Where are you?”

“Not at the house. They dismissed me yesterday.”

“Who did?”

The man drew a shaky breath.

“Your husband's grandfather. And before he sent us away, he gave one instruction.”

“What instruction?”

“Burn everything growing beneath the glass.”