“Not taking photographs today?”
“No, ma’am.”
She looked at Cabot, and he drew in a sharp breath. “Tell me,” she said.
“Eleanor, there is a threat to the wedding tomorrow.”
She didn’t look away.
“Early this morning—five o’clock—federal agents arrested three people in the Boston area. All three were scheduled to be here for the wedding, working with your staff. They had been placed there by someone inside the household, working over a long time."
One hand reached out to grip the arm of her chair.
“At a fourth address in Auburndale, federal agents recovered an explosive device. It had a cellular trigger, and a charge designed to be placed against a structural joint in this property. The device has been disarmed. It will not come here.”
Eleanor didn’t move or speak.
“The person who arranged the placements has been inside this household for forty years.”
He stopped. Eleanor closed her eyes for a beat and then reopened them.
“It’s Maria,” Cabot said.
Eleanor looked at the coffee service. Then back at Cabot.
“Where is Maria now?”
“In your kitchen, Mrs. Harcourt,” I said.
“At this moment?”
“At this moment. We don’t think she knows federal moved this morning. We believe she’ll know inside two hours, based on a missed call from one of the men taken in Boston.”
“And then?”
“Federal will be here at three p.m. or earlier to take her into custody. Agents are staged at Edgartown PD. They will come here when they receive my call.”
“And what do you want from me?” Eleanor asked.
“We would like your permission to make the arrest on your property. The agency doesn’t require it, but we would like it as a courtesy.”
She looked at her hands.
“And I’m to be where?”
“On the terrace with Stanley.”
“No,” she said.
I waited for her to say more.
“I will be in my kitchen. I will pour coffee for us at two, as I have every afternoon I’ve been on this island for thirty-eight years. I will sit at the small table under the south window, in my chair. Maria will sit in hers. We will not speak about what is coming. When the federal agents come through the service door, I will be in my kitchen, in my chair, with my coffee. Not on the terrace.”
“Mrs. Harcourt —“
She addressed Cabot. “Stanley.”
“Yes?”