Chapter 6 - The Woman Vincent Couldn’t Buy
Vincent called Clara at noon.
No greeting.
No threat.
Just a location.
The old Costello theater in Queens.
“Come alone,” he said.
Clara almost laughed.
Men like Vincent always said that as though anyone sensible obeyed.
“What do you want?”
“To offer you what Arthur never did.”
“And what is that?”
“Respect.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“I’ll see you at 4.”
Arthur heard the entire call.
“No.”
Clara put down the phone.
“You agreed I’m not your employee anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean I suddenly support suicidal decisions.”
“Reeves will have surveillance.”
“I don’t trust Reeves.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“I trusted you.”
Clara looked at him.
“Eventually.”
Arthur had no answer.
At 3:58, Clara entered the abandoned theater.
Vincent sat beneath the ruined chandelier.
He looked almost paternal.
That had always been his greatest weapon.
Arthur frightened people.
Vincent made them comfortable first.
“You look better away from him,” Vincent said.
“I feel better.”
“That I believe.”
He gestured toward a chair.
Clara remained standing.
Vincent smiled.
“You wasted 5 years on my nephew.”
“That’s between Arthur and me.”
“No. Arthur makes everything everyone’s problem.”
He slid a folder across the table.
Inside were bank documents.
$10 million.
Clara looked up.
“Your retirement.”
“In exchange for?”
“The ledger.”
“You assume I have it.”
“I know you do.”
Clara closed the folder.
“And after I give it to you?”
“You disappear.”
“Alive?”
Vincent smiled.
“You always were intelligent.”
Clara knew then.
He intended to kill her regardless.
She needed him talking.
“You ordered Arthur’s shooting.”
Vincent’s smile faded.
“Arthur ordered his own shooting the day he decided he was invincible.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.”
Clara stepped closer.
“Why?”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“For 20 years, I built that family. His father drank. Arthur fought. I cleaned up both of them. Then his father died and suddenly the crown went to the angry little prince.”
“So you tried to murder him.”
“I tried to correct an inheritance mistake.”
Clara's hidden microphone transmitted every word.
Outside, Reeves listened.
So did Arthur.
His face remained motionless.
But his eyes did not.
Vincent continued.
“Then you ruined everything.”
“Me?”
“You moved his hospital room.”
Clara smiled faintly.
“That must have been frustrating.”
Vincent stood.
“I underestimated you once.”
His hand entered his coat.
Clara heard Arthur’s voice through the tiny receiver hidden beneath her hair.
Get down.
She did.
The theater doors exploded inward.
Arthur’s men entered from one side.
Federal agents from the other.
Vincent fired.
Chaos erupted.
Clara crawled behind the seats.
Arthur crossed the theater toward her.
“Arthur!”
Vincent’s weapon turned.
Clara saw it first.
She ran.
Arthur heard the shot.
Then Clara collided with him.
They hit the floor together.
For one terrifying second, Arthur thought she had been struck.
“Clara?”
“I’m fine.”
Arthur touched her face, shoulders, arms.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
His hands stopped against her cheeks.
Around them, agents shouted.
Vincent was being dragged upright.
But Arthur heard none of it.
Clara was alive.
That was all.
His forehead dropped against hers.
“I thought—”
“I know.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Clara could have moved.
She didn’t.
Then Vincent laughed from across the theater.
“You really did it, Arthur.”
Arthur looked up.
“What?”
“Fell in love with the help.”
Arthur rose slowly.
Clara expected rage.
Instead, Arthur looked at Vincent with something almost like pity.
“You still don’t understand.”
He reached down and helped Clara stand.
“She was never the help.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
Arthur looked at Clara.
“She was the reason any of us survived this long.”
For 5 years, Clara had wanted to hear something like that.
May you like
Now, strangely, she did not need it.
That was when she knew she had finally become free.
