Chapter 6 - VICTOR DIDN’T KILL HELENA WOODS, BUT HE HAD SPENT FOURTEEN YEARS PROTECTING THE MAN WHO DID
Victor confessed in Gunther’s study.
Not to murder.
To silence.
“I told Keene not to request autopsy.”
“Why?”
“Because Helena had made me promise.”
Gunther’s fists tightened.
“No more dead people making convenient requests.”
Victor flinched.
Fair.
“What did she tell you?”
“Night before she died, she said if anything happened, I had to protect you from Arthur’s partners.”
“Arthur was dead.”
“His partners weren’t.”
“Who?”
Victor named three old captains.
Two dead now.
One alive.
Leon Barrett.
Seventy.
Retired in Florida.
Gunther remembered Barrett.
Uncle Leon.
Not blood.
One of father’s oldest allies.
“What did Barrett have to do with Helena?”
“She had evidence he was stealing.”
“Everyone was stealing.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked ashamed.
“But this was different.”
Barrett used employee-relief accounts to wash proceeds from narcotics shipments Arthur had forbidden.
Helena discovered.
Rachel Gable stumbled onto same numbers.
Barrett shifted blame to Rachel.
Helena protected shelters by staying quiet temporarily while collecting proof.
Then Arthur died unexpectedly.
Helena planned to expose Barrett.
Two weeks later, medication overdose.
“Why suspect Barrett?”
“Because one of his men visited estate pharmacy room.”
“Who?”
Victor said:
“Derrick Moss’s father.”
Silence.
Moss again.
Family.
Generational.
Caleb later hired Derrick Moss because Barrett recommended him.
Gunther felt nausea.
The “clean” side and dirty side intertwined more deeply than one villain.
“Where does Caleb fit?”
Victor answered:
“He found Helena’s evidence after she died.”
“Then?”
“He used it.”
“For blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“Against Barrett.”
Why?
To finance civic-development projects without Gunther knowing.
Caleb forced Barrett to channel money into WCD.
At first perhaps reclaiming stolen funds.
Then became leverage.
Barrett helped Northstar.
Northstar trafficking.
Caleb knew portions.
Covered.
The chain.
Gunther whispered:
“So my brother didn’t kill our mother.”
“Not that I know.”
“Did he know Barrett might have?”
“Yes.”
“And stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
“For money.”
“Yes.”
Gunther laughed.
Everyone.
Every silence had price.
Victor continued:
“I stayed silent too.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
Gunther looked at him.
“Stop saying that.”
Victor closed eyes.
“You were twenty-four.”
“Your father dead.”
“Your mother dead.”
“You inherited men waiting to see if you were weak.”
“I thought if you learned Barrett may have killed Helena, you would start a war.”
“I would have.”
“Yes.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen years.”
“Yes.”
Gunther wanted to hit him.
Didn’t.
“What else?”
Victor looked surprised.
“What?”
“If we are doing this, all of it.”
Victor told him.
The Chicago gunfight eight years earlier?
Barrett funded rival indirectly.
The union tension?
Some captains wanted Gunther destabilized.
Northstar?
Barrett people used it for illicit freight before Caleb discovered and monetized cover-up.
Victor had spent years extinguishing pieces without showing Gunther whole pattern.
“I thought controlling information controlled danger.”
Gunther looked toward hall.
Kayla had said similar without knowing.
“You trained me to trust you by making yourself only person who knew everything.”
Victor’s face changed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“But that’s what happened.”
“Yes.”
A friendship built on asymmetric truth.
Gunther understood why he preferred empty rooms.
Everybody around him had edited reality.
Some out of love.
Some fear.
Some profit.
All still edits.
Federal investigators reopened Helena’s death.
Barrett, elderly but lucid, denied.
Then old pharmacy logs surfaced.
Derrick Moss’s father, Peter Moss, had signed as maintenance contractor.
Witness nurse remembered him asking where Helena kept medication.
Evidence circumstantial.
Then Barrett’s former accountant agreed to cooperate.
He had kept handwritten ledger.
Payment:
P.M. — H.W. medicine problem — 50k
There.
Gunther stared.
Enough to investigate.
Peter Moss had died six years ago.
Barrett alive.
Charges possible.
Caleb had known ledger existed.
Why no action?
Because Barrett’s silence protected Caleb’s Northstar cover-up.
Mutual blackmail.
One brother had been criminal openly.
The other had become respectable by blackmailing older criminals while hiding their crimes.
Which was worse?
Kayla said:
“Does it matter?”
Gunther looked.
“What?”
“You keep trying to rank who was worse.”
“Maybe so you can decide who you are.”
“Are you Barrett?”
“No.”
“Caleb?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Then stop using them as measuring stick.”
That irritated him.
Good.
“What should I use?”
“Your own choices.”
Simple.
Brutal.
Gunther opened everything.
Not immediately to public.
First lawyers.
Investigators.
Victim advocates.
Workers.
Northstar trafficking records.
Old employee-relief diversions.
Woods investments.
Threat tactics.
His own.
That was hardest.
One attorney said:
“We can disclose historical Northstar exposure without discussing operational intimidation.”
Gunther looked at him.
“No.”
“Mr. Woods, there are communications under your name that could create criminal exposure.”
“I know.”
“You told men to pressure union leaders.”
“Yes.”
“Competitors.”
“Yes.”
“Potential witnesses.”
Gunther paused.
“Yes.”
“Some could be construed as extortion.”
“Yes.”
“You could lose licenses.”
“Yes.”
“Control.”
“Yes.”
“Money.”
“Yes.”
The attorney stared.
“Why?”
Gunther thought of Sam in a brace.
Kayla unconscious in his bed.
Rachel in prison.
Helena dead.
“Because every person before me kept saying silence was cheaper.”
“It wasn’t.”
That became beginning.
He stepped back from syndicate operations.
Cooperated through counsel.
Some charges emerged.
Not murder.
Financial crimes.
Extortion conspiracy.
Labor intimidation.
He negotiated eventual plea and monitoring.
Power started shrinking.
Men called him weak.
One captain left.
Another threatened.
Victor asked:
“Want me to handle him?”
Gunther stared.
Old language.
Handle.
“No.”
“Lawyer.”
“Police if necessary.”
Victor nodded.
Learning too.
Kayla watched from distance.
She had been medically cleared after treatment and removal of exposure.
Her arsenic levels fell.
Energy slowly returned.
Gunther offered paid leave.
She accepted because it was legally owed, not charity.
Then resigned.
He stared at resignation letter.
“Why?”
“You’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Because I was poisoned in your house.”
Fair.
“Because my job was arranged without my knowledge.”
Fair.
“Because my brother’s injury is tied to your companies.”
Fair.
“And because whatever this is—”
She gestured between them.
He went still.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“That’s the problem.”
She took breath.
“I cannot figure it out while you sign my checks.”
There.
Gunther understood immediately.
The power imbalance.
“I could transfer—”
“No.”
He stopped.
Kayla almost smiled.
“Good.”
“Where will you work?”
“That is not your responsibility.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He struggled.
“Trying.”
She nodded.
“I have an interview at a rehabilitation center.”
“Administrative?”
“Patient services.”
“Why?”
“Sam spent four years navigating systems designed to exhaust injured people.”
“I’m good at not disappearing.”
He smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
She was.
Then she said:
“And Gunther?”
“What?”
“Do not offer Sam money privately.”
He had been about to.
“How did you know?”
“You have billionaire face.”
“What does that mean?”
“Like you’re trying to solve something with a wire transfer.”
He almost laughed.
“What would be acceptable?”
“Independent restitution process for everyone harmed.”
“Not just us.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Done.”
“No.”
She shook head.
“Not done.”
“Started.”
Gunther corrected.
“Started.”
Better.
She walked away.
For the first time since he saw her asleep in his bed, he did not stop her.
May you like
It hurt more than he expected.
And that was exactly why he knew it mattered.
Related Stories
