Chapter 3 - The Red Scarf Alibi
By sunrise, the mansion no longer felt like a home.
It felt like a crime scene.
Technicians photographed the dressing room.
Police collected the styling wand, Renata’s robe, and several strands of Lily’s damaged hair.
Detective Ruiz’s team searched every room Renata had used since marrying Grant.
The search produced dozens of prescription bottles, two unregistered cell phones, and a locked metal case hidden beneath the floor of her private closet.
The case contained cash in four currencies.
It also contained a passport under the name Rachel Vale.
Renata’s birth name was Renata Vale.
The passport showed a photograph taken only three years earlier.
Before Claire’s death.
Ruiz placed it in an evidence bag.
“People do not usually create false travel documents without planning to travel somewhere unseen.”
Grant stood beside her.
“She used another woman at the Boston gala.”
“That is one possibility.”
The photographs from the charity dinner had always seemed unquestionable.
Renata appeared in dozens of images.
The black dress.
The red scarf.
The carefully arranged dark hair.
But when Ruiz enlarged the photographs, small inconsistencies emerged.
The woman in several wide-angle images wore her hair over the left shoulder.
Renata always wore hers over the right because of a scar near her collarbone.
In the close-up photographs, Renata’s face was visible.
However, the timestamps showed that every close-up had been taken before eight fifteen.
Claire died more than two hours later.
The woman photographed after nine was never shown clearly.
Someone had attended the second half of the gala dressed as Renata.
The red scarf had transformed a stranger into an alibi.
Grant looked physically sick.
“She planned it.”
“She planned something,” Ruiz said.
Renata’s attorney, Simon Crowe, arrived shortly after eight.
He was silver-haired, perfectly dressed, and smiled without warmth.
“My client will not answer further questions.”
“She attempted to burn a child,” Ruiz replied.
“My client was styling her stepdaughter’s hair when an unstable employee attacked her.”
Crowe glanced at me.
“You should consider obtaining your own attorney, Ms. Bennett.”
I stepped between him and Lily.
“You should consider staying away from her.”
His smile widened.
“I understand loyalty can be emotional.”
“I understand threats can be recorded.”
Crowe’s eyes flicked toward the officer standing nearby.
He adjusted his cuff links.
“Renata has been granted a bail hearing this afternoon.”
Grant stared at him.
“She cannot come back here.”
“She owns half this residence under your marriage agreement.”
“Not anymore.”
Crowe tilted his head.
“That is a matter for another court.”
Ruiz escorted him away.
After he left, Lily touched my hand.
“Red room.”
Her voice was faint.
Every time she spoke, Grant looked at her as though he had been given another chance to breathe.
“What red room?” I asked.
Lily pointed down the hallway.
The mansion had forty-three rooms, but none had red walls.
Grant crouched near her.
“Can you show us?”
Lily nodded.
She led us through the west wing, past the old library and the formal music room.
At the end of the corridor stood a narrow door disguised behind carved wooden panels.
Grant frowned.
“That is an old service passage.”
The door had been sealed before Lily was born.
Harris examined the lock.
“It has been opened recently.”
He inserted a master key.
The door swung inward.
Dust coated the floor.
A narrow staircase disappeared into darkness.
Lily stopped at the top.
Her breathing quickened.
I held out my hand.
“You do not have to go down.”
She gripped my fingers.
“Mommy went.”
We descended slowly.
At the bottom, the passage opened into a small storage chamber.
Faded crimson wallpaper covered the walls.
The red room.
An antique mirror leaned against one corner.
Broken furniture had been stacked against the opposite wall.
Grant turned in a slow circle.
“I never knew this room existed.”
Lily walked toward the mirror.
She knelt and touched the wooden frame.
Then she pressed one of the carved flowers.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside lay a folded piece of black fabric.
Grant pulled on gloves before removing it.
It was the sleeve of an evening gown.
The fabric had been torn near the shoulder.
A faint reddish stain marked one edge.
Ruiz entered behind us.
“Do not touch anything else.”
Lily pointed deeper into the compartment.
A small gold button rested inside.
The Hale family crest was engraved across its surface.
Grant recognized it immediately.
“Adrian’s formal dinner jacket.”
Ruiz photographed it.
“What was your brother wearing the night Claire died?”
“A black dinner jacket with gold buttons.”
“Where was he supposed to be going?”
“He said he had a meeting in the city.”
Lily reached toward the compartment again.
This time, she removed a thin silver chain.
A tiny glass bottle hung from it.
The bottle was empty.
Grant stared at it.
“What is that?”
I remembered seeing it around Claire’s neck.
“She used to carry migraine medication in it.”
Ruiz held the bottle beneath the light.
“There is residue inside.”
Grant’s eyes hardened.
“The toxicology report said Claire had taken twice her prescribed dose.”
“Someone may have filled this bottle with something else.”
Lily looked toward the antique mirror.
“She watched.”
“Who watched?” I asked.
Lily pointed at the glass.
At first, I saw only our reflections.
Then Harris moved closer and shined his flashlight against the frame.
A tiny black lens had been hidden among the carved leaves.
A camera.
Grant looked at Harris.
“Is that part of your system?”
“No.”
Ruiz carefully traced the wire.
It disappeared behind the wall.
“Someone installed independent surveillance in this room.”
Harris removed the wooden panel beneath the mirror.
Behind it, the wire led to a small recording unit.
Its storage slot was empty.
Someone had taken the memory card.
Grant looked around the room.
“Why would Claire come here?”
Lily pointed toward the ceiling.
A faint sound drifted above us.
Three knocks.
Then silence.
Harris drew his weapon.
Ruiz signaled to the officers.
Someone was inside the service passage.
They moved toward the stairs.
A shadow crossed the doorway.
The lights went out.
Lily screamed.
It was the first scream any of us had heard from her in two years.
I pulled her against me as footsteps thundered overhead.
A door slammed.
By the time the emergency lights flickered on, Ruiz and Harris had reached the corridor.
The intruder was gone.
But something had been left on the floor.
May you like
A red silk scarf.
Wrapped around Naomi Price’s missing-person photograph.
