Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE THAT LISTENED
Marian removed the camera using a pair of medical tweezers.
It was smaller than a coin.
A thin wire ran behind the wall and disappeared beneath the wallpaper.
“This wasn’t installed today,” she said.
“How long?”
“Judging by the dust around the casing, several weeks.”
Eleanor looked down the hallway.
Every familiar object suddenly felt altered.
The portraits.
The smoke detectors.
The decorative vents.
The antique clocks Richard had insisted on having repaired.
“How many more?” Eleanor asked.
“Probably enough to watch your routine.”
“Could they hear us?”
Marian examined the device.
“This model may record sound.”
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Put it back.”
Marian stared at her.
“You can’t be serious.”
“If Richard discovers that we found it, he will remove the others.”
“You’re assuming there are others.”
“I am assuming there are many.”
They returned the camera to its hiding place.
For the next hour, they inspected only areas outside its field of view.
They found a listening device beneath the dining table, another inside the library telephone, and a third behind a decorative mirror in Eleanor’s private sitting room.
The devices had not been placed randomly.
They covered every location where Eleanor held business conversations.
By noon, Eleanor understood the purpose.
Richard was not merely watching her.
He was collecting fragments he could manipulate.
A forgotten name.
A repeated question.
A moment of frustration.
Anything that might support the story that Eleanor Whitmore was losing control of her mind.
At one o’clock, Richard and Caroline returned.
Eleanor was in the library, deliberately reading the same page of a book.
Richard paused at the doorway.
“You’re home.”
“I live here.”
He entered.
“Caroline said you visited a doctor.”
Eleanor’s eyes remained on the book.
“Did she?”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t remember.”
Richard studied her.
It was a small performance, but Eleanor saw the satisfaction in his eyes.
“You don’t remember the doctor’s name?”
She touched her temple.
“It will come back to me.”
Richard sat opposite her.
“Has this been happening often?”
“Has what been happening?”
“Forgetting things.”
Eleanor looked confused.
“What things?”
He leaned forward.
“You know, Eleanor, there is no shame in admitting you need help.”
“Did Caroline ask you to speak to me?”
“We both care about you.”
“How kind.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Richard placed a hand on her book.
“Would you consider a full neurological examination?”
“Perhaps.”
He blinked.
“You would?”
“If you arrange it.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“Then perhaps I misjudged you.”
Richard’s expression softened.
Not with affection.
With victory.
That evening, Caroline came to Eleanor’s bedroom.
She closed the door and stood beside the dresser.
“Richard said you agreed to an examination.”
“I did.”
“Thank you.”
Caroline looked relieved, but she also looked frightened.
Eleanor sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
Her daughter hesitated before sitting beside her.
“When did you begin believing I was ill?” Eleanor asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“You forget appointments.”
“Which appointments?”
“The luncheon with the hospital board.”
“I canceled it.”
“You left the oven on.”
“We have not used that oven since the kitchen renovation.”
Caroline’s face changed.
“Richard said the housekeeper found it.”
“Which housekeeper?”
“Diana.”
“Diana was visiting her sister in Florida that week.”
Caroline looked toward the bedroom door.
Eleanor touched her hand.
“What else has he told you?”
“He said you nearly transferred money to a fraudulent account.”
“That transfer paid for emergency equipment at the Baltimore clinic.”
“He said you called him by Father’s name.”
Eleanor stared at her.
“I have never confused Richard with your father.”
Caroline pulled her hand away.
“Why would he lie?”
“That is the question you should be asking.”
“He loves me.”
“Perhaps.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I believe Richard loves what being married to you gives him.”
Caroline stood abruptly.
“You have never accepted him.”
“I accepted him until he began isolating you from everyone who might challenge him.”
“That isn’t true.”
“When did you last speak to your cousin Julia?”
Caroline opened her mouth, then closed it.
“When did you last have lunch without Richard knowing where you were?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“When did you last make a decision he had not already made for you?”
Caroline stepped toward the door.
Eleanor spoke before she reached it.
“Did you authorize cameras in my house?”
Caroline stopped.
Slowly, she turned.
“What cameras?”
For a moment, Eleanor saw genuine surprise.
Then the bedroom door opened.
Richard stood outside.
He had been listening.
“Caroline,” he said quietly, “go downstairs.”
She looked between them.
“What cameras?”
“Your mother is confused.”
Eleanor rose.
“You entered without knocking.”
“This is my family’s home.”
“It is my home.”
“For now.”
The words escaped before Richard could stop them.
Caroline stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Richard recovered quickly.
“It means that if Eleanor’s health continues to decline, we may need to move somewhere safer.”
“That is not what you said,” Eleanor replied.
Richard looked at his wife.
“She is twisting my words.”
Caroline backed away from both of them.
“I can’t do this tonight.”
She walked downstairs.
Richard waited until her footsteps faded.
Then he entered Eleanor’s bedroom and shut the door.
“You think you’re clever,” he whispered.
“I think you are careless.”
“You visited Larkin.”
Eleanor’s pulse quickened.
Richard smiled when he saw her reaction.
“He called Pike.”
“Then Dr. Larkin is more frightened than I realized.”
“He is practical.”
“Is that what you call people after you threaten their children?”
Richard’s smile vanished.
“You should be very careful about accusations.”
“You should be careful about cameras.”
They stared at one another.
Richard stepped close enough that Eleanor could smell mint on his breath.
“You won’t win.”
“Win what?”
“This house. The company. Caroline.”
“My daughter is not a prize.”
“No. She is a signature.”
He opened the door.
Before leaving, he glanced toward the portrait camera across the hall.
It was not an accidental glance.
He wanted Eleanor to know that he knew she had found it.
Later that night, Marian called from her apartment.
“I checked the recorder system we discussed. The waterproof model will arrive tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“I searched Richard’s name through the federal court database.”
Eleanor sat upright.
“And?”
“He used a different last name until he was twenty-nine.”
“What name?”
“Richard Mercer.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Eleanor knew that name.
Twenty-two years earlier, a Whitmore manufacturing plant had closed after an internal fraud investigation.
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The plant manager had vanished before he could be arrested.
His name was Thomas Mercer.
