Chapter 3 - THE PAGE MISSING FROM THE WILL
Kent survived.
June learned that at 4:12 a.m. in the emergency department waiting room.
The poison in his water was not the same compound used on Eleanor.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
A sedative combined with blood-pressure medication.
Enough to incapacitate.
Possibly kill if no one found him.
Someone wanted time.
Not necessarily his death.
That distinction mattered.
June sat with Camille Gallagher on one side and Walsh pacing on the other.
Police had taken statements.
Detective Mara Ruiz? We should create Detective Lena Ortiz to avoid reused. Detective Lena Ortiz arrived at dawn.
Forty.
Major Crimes.
No patience for mafia secrecy.
She looked at Walsh.
“You withheld the first toxicology report from police.”
Walsh said nothing.
Kent’s attorney? Perry missing.
Ortiz continued.
“You privately investigated a homicide.”
Walsh answered.
“We did not know homicide until yesterday.”
“You knew suspicious wiretap.”
“Yes.”
“You hid it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Family.”
Ortiz laughed without humor.
“That word is going to ruin my week.”
June liked her.
Ortiz turned.
“Ms. Whitfield.”
“Yes?”
“Why were you at estate?”
“Because someone threatened Kent.”
“Why you?”
June thought.
“Because I notice flowers.”
Ortiz stared.
“Try again.”
June explained everything.
Wrong bouquet.
Belladonna materials.
Nina Perry.
Phone threat.
Ortiz wrote.
“Why did you tell Camille Eleanor was poisoned?”
“Because I needed reaction.”
“That’s not your job.”
“No.”
“Do not do it again.”
June almost said okay.
Then:
“I’ll try.”
Ortiz sighed.
“Wonderful.”
Camille sat pale.
“I didn’t know.”
Ortiz looked at her.
“About poison?”
“No.”
“About Nina?”
“What about her?”
“She’s missing.”
Camille stopped breathing.
Nina Perry had not returned home.
Phone off.
Car found at O’Hare long-term parking.
Flight?
No ticket in her name.
Could be staged.
Her father, family attorney Charles Perry, also missing.
Interesting.
The will page.
Ortiz obtained copy from probate backup.
Good.
No need mysteries if legal records existed.
Eleanor Gallagher’s will had twelve pages.
Page eight contained disposition of a private trust.
Named:
The Eleanor Gallagher Restitution Trust.
June frowned.
“What is that?”
Walsh looked shocked.
He did not know.
Camille began crying quietly.
Ortiz read.
Eleanor had set aside forty percent of her personal estate—approximately $26 million—to compensate families harmed by illegal Gallagher debt collection and protection operations over past twenty years.
Silence.
Walsh’s face changed.
Kent’s organization.
His mother had planned restitution.
Then another clause.
Upon Eleanor’s death, independent audit of Gallagher Recovery Services must begin.
Gallagher Recovery.
Kent’s debt arm.
If audit identified unlawful interest, coerced transfers, or violence, trust expanded through forced sale of Eleanor’s voting shares.
Who inherited those shares?
Kent.
But subject to audit.
Motive.
Anyone whose power or money depended on keeping audit buried could kill Eleanor.
Who knew will?
Charles Perry.
Attorney.
Maybe Nina.
Kent likely not.
Walsh whispered, “Mrs. Gallagher never told him.”
Ortiz said, “Why?”
No one knew.
June thought she did.
“Because he would stop her.”
Walsh looked offended.
Camille looked away.
That was answer.
Kent loved his mother.
Maybe obeyed her.
But forty percent restitution and forced audit could destabilize empire.
Eleanor may have known love would not automatically make him choose accountability.
June stared toward ICU doors.
Interesting.
Even dead, mothers were planning around men who thought protection meant control.
Ortiz continued.
Page eight had been removed from physical will but not legal backup.
“Then stealing it was useless.”
June said.
“Unless killer didn’t know backup existed.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Or wanted delay.”
Time.
Enough to move money.
Destroy files.
Shift ownership.
Walsh’s phone buzzed.
North side warehouse fire.
Gallagher Recovery archive.
Ortiz swore.
“Who has access?”
Walsh gave list.
Kent.
Charles Perry.
Chief financial officer.
Recovery director Nolan? Let's choose Victor Sloane.
Operations controller.
Two IT administrators.
June frowned.
“Fire now.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Delay.”
Someone was destroying audit trail.
Police moved.
June stood.
Walsh said, “Where are you going?”
“Shop.”
“No.”
She glared.
He corrected.
“Someone threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Police protection.”
Ortiz said, “Already arranging patrol.”
June looked at her.
“I cannot stay here.”
“Fine.”
“Can I see Kent?”
“No.”
That hurt unexpectedly.
Why?
She barely knew him.
Maybe because last thing he said had been joke.
Maybe because he had been cold, controlling, impossible.
Alive.
She wanted confirmation.
Ortiz softened slightly.
“When he wakes and doctors allow.”
Good.
June went home? Shop.
At Whitfield Flowers, front window had been broken.
Nothing stolen.
On floor:
One white rose.
Belladonna ribbon.
Message.
STOP ARRANGING OTHER PEOPLE’S FUNERALS.
June stood outside with police.
Fear became anger.
Not cinematic.
Practical.
Broken glass cost money.
Her grandmother’s display vase shattered.
Someone had entered the only place June owned and tried turning flowers into threats.
She hated that most.
Officer photographed.
June called landlord.
Insurance.
Boarded window.
Normal responses.
No Kent.
Good.
At noon, Daniel Bell arrived.
Police checked him.
He looked terrible.
“My father’s funeral is tomorrow.”
June swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“He was scared before he died.”
“I know.”
“He left something.”
June stared.
“What?”
Daniel held notebook.
Patrick Bell’s appointment calendar.
One entry repeated every Friday for six weeks:
E.G. — private bedside flowers.
N.P. assist.
Nina Perry.
“She went with him.”
June’s pulse changed.
“So Nina had access to Eleanor weekly.”
“Yes.”
“Did Patrick know wiretaps?”
“Maybe.”
Daniel pointed to another entry.
CALL C.P. — tell him stop using Nina.
Charles Perry.
Father.
Patrick wanted attorney to stop using daughter.
Using for what?
Then last line day before Patrick died:
NINA SAYS SHE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT MEDS.
June froze.
Nina knew something.
Denied medication.
Meaning Patrick confronted her.
Maybe Nina planted listening devices but did not poison.
Different actors.
Important.
June called Ortiz.
This time before investigating.
Good.
Ortiz arrived.
Took notebook.
Then said:
“Charles Perry turned himself in.”
June stared.
“Where?”
“Federal building.”
“Why federal?”
“He requested witness protection.”
Walsh called same minute.
Kent awake.
Asking for June.
June’s stomach moved.
Ortiz saw.
“You can go if hospital approves.”
“Police there?”
“Yes.”
Good.
At hospital, Kent looked wrong.
No suit.
Hospital gown.
IV.
Power stripped to physiology.
He hated it.
June entered.
He looked at her boarded-window cuts? She had tiny scratch from glass cleanup.
“What happened?”
“My shop.”
His face turned cold.
“Who?”
“Unknown.”
“I’ll—”
“No.”
He stopped.
June noticed.
Good.
“Police are handling.”
His jaw tightened.
“Fine.”
“Your mother had restitution trust.”
Kent went still.
There.
He did not know.
June watched.
“Forty percent.”
Silence.
“Mandatory audit of Gallagher Recovery.”
He closed eyes.
Long.
Then:
“She didn’t trust me.”
June said nothing.
He opened.
“That’s what you think.”
“I think she knew what you would choose at the time she wrote it.”
His face hardened.
“You know nothing about my mother.”
“No.”
“Or me.”
“No.”
“Then?”
June stepped closer.
“I know you paid my rent without asking because you thought solving a problem gave you permission.”
He stared.
She continued.
“Twenty-six million is a bigger problem.”
Silence.
That landed.
Kent looked away.
Then:
“She asked me to shut Recovery two years ago.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It financed legitimate businesses.”
“And?”
“Eight hundred employees depended on it.”
“Anything else?”
He looked at her.
“Profit.”
Good.
Truth.
“What did she say?”
“That I was becoming my father.”
June sat.
“Was that bad?”
Kent laughed softly.
“My father broke fingers for late payments.”
“Then yes.”
He looked at ceiling.
“I stopped physical collections.”
“Did everyone?”
Silence.
No.
There.
Kent whispered, “I don’t know.”
June understood why Eleanor built audit outside him.
Ignorance can become policy when power benefits.
Kent looked back.
“Who has will?”
“Police.”
“Perry?”
“Turned himself in.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Why?”
“Witness protection.”
Kent started sitting.
Pain.
June raised hand.
“Don’t.”
He glared.
She corrected.
“Would you like to reopen internal bleeding?”
He almost smiled.
Then stopped.
“Perry knows.”
“Probably.”
“Walsh.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Police.”
His face became cold.
“This is my mother.”
“Yes.”
“My family.”
“Yes.”
“My organization.”
“Yes.”
“June.”
She stared.
“Your mother used court documents and an independent trust because she did not want this handled only as your family business.”
Silence.
He hated it.
Good.
Then door opened.
Ortiz entered.
“Mr. Gallagher, Charles Perry gave us a statement.”
Kent’s face hardened.
“He says Eleanor discovered someone inside Gallagher Recovery was laundering money through debt settlements.”
“Who?”
Ortiz looked at him.
“Your uncle.”
Kent stopped.
“Which uncle?”
“Thomas Gallagher.”
His mother’s younger brother.
Front row at funeral.
Family.
The killer may still be sitting in front row.
June remembered opening line she never knew she was living.
Ortiz continued.
“Perry says Thomas knew about restitution trust and audit.”
Kent’s jaw tightened.
“Did he poison her?”
“Perry says no.”
“Then who?”
Ortiz looked at June.
“Nina.”
Silence.
“Nina Perry administered the compound.”
June felt sick.
“Why?”
Ortiz continued.
“According to her father, under coercion.”
“By Thomas?”
“Yes.”
Kent’s face became empty.
“And wiretap?”
“Nina planted it.”
“So she could monitor Eleanor?”
“No.”
Ortiz took a breath.
“So she could record Thomas confessing.”
Everything changed.
Nina was not simply killer.
She had poisoned Eleanor because Thomas forced her.
Then bugged funeral to collect evidence?
Why funeral after Eleanor dead?
Maybe Thomas would speak.
Or will conversations.
Kent whispered:
“Where is Nina?”
Ortiz said:
“We don’t know.”
Then June’s phone rang.
Unknown.
She answered.
Nina Perry whispered:
“I need your help.”
May you like
And before June could speak, she added:
“I didn’t mean to kill Eleanor.”
