Raoul had been at his desk since leaving his apartment.
The financial records had a logic to them once you knew what you were looking for. Vincent had organised them oldest first and Raoul worked through them in that order, three years of the Vale family's money moving in the directions it moved. Most of it was Eleanor's. Clear from the account names and the patterns of it. It was all clean, nothing out of order at all.
Nero's contributions were easier to identify by contrast. Fewer transactions, larger amounts, and a habit of moving money in ways that assumed no one was paying attention. Eleanor's accounts had the structure of someone who expected scrutiny. Nero's had the structure of someone who had never received any.
Raoul found the first thing worth noting about forty minutes in.
Eleanor's payments to Virgil and Violet had been consistent for years. A regular monthly contribution toward their work, their studio time, their equipment. Not extravagant. Just steady financial support paid out roughly once or twice a month without any real cover up.
These payments ran without interruption through Eleanor's illness, through her decline, right up until the month she died.
The month after she died they stopped.
Nero had assumed control of the accounts within weeks of Eleanor's death and the first thing that changed was that. Before any other adjustment to how the money moved, he'd cut the direct payments to his own children's work. Instead smaller payments hidden as charitable donations were made to organizations seemingly related to the younger Vales. It was a blatant attempt to appear magnanimous at the expense of his own kin.
Raoul could almost laugh at the absurdity. Never once did Raoul get the impression that Nero would be the kind to care for his children's ambitions. It might as well be a publicity stunt, but Raoul knew better than to jump to conclusions. He hadn't talked to Nero yet. Bias would skew the results of the investigation, and the good detective was biased enough.
So Raoul went back to the files.
He kept going. The payments to the private practice were there the way Vincent had described. Structured across multiple transactions, careful in the way that assumed invisibility rather than withstanding examination. Raoul traced them forward and backward and found the shape of them. Not a single large payment that might attract attention. A series of smaller ones spread across ten days, totalling an amount that suggested something specific had been purchased and paid for in installments.
He wrote the practice name down again and looked at what the page was becoming.
The picture it painted was not a comfortable one.
He was still looking at it when his office door opened without a knock.
Detective Constable Marsh sauntered into the room, coffee mug in hand, and walked over to Raoul. It could easily be a senior checking on his subordinate, but Raoul knew better than to entertain the man. He didn't need to say anything, Marsh would in due time.
He looked at Raoul's desk, at the financial records spread across every available surface, at the autopsy results, at the accumulated documentation of several weeks of investigation, and then he looked at Raoul.
"Still at it I see."
"Clearly."
Marsh dropped into the chair across the desk. "Vale case?"
"Vale case."
"Cause of death confirmed?"
"Anaphylactic shock." Raoul kept his hands on the records. "The investigation is still ongoing."
Marsh looked at him. "Anaphylactic shock isn't a crime, son."
"No," Raoul agreed. "It isn't."
"So what exactly are you still doing then? You could shut this down right now."
Raoul looked at the page in front of him, trying not to lose place in the flood on his desk. "Following threads."
"What threads?" Marsh leaned forward slightly. "You've got a dead boy with an allergy and a missing epipen. Tragic, yes. Criminal, not obviously. What exactly do you hope to achieve here."
Raoul was quiet for a moment, not wanting to admit that Marsh was right. He knew he could close the case down right now. But that stolen letter with Virgil's last request hung over his head. He could almost understand the strain of Eleanor Vale's will hanging over the family. Almost.
Raoul looked straight at Marsh with almost cold irritation. "I'm not done looking," he said.
Marsh stared back at him for a long moment with the expression of a man deciding whether patience was worth the expenditure. "Nero Vale's legal team has been in contact twice this week asking about timelines."
"It remains confidential until this case is solved." The lie came a little too easily to the detective, but he also knew better. They were both lying. Raoul chose to call Marsh's bluff.
"Is it now?" He set his coffee down. "Because from where I'm sitting it looks like a kid stuck on his first significant case. A kid who's little project has gotten him turned around. A kid who doesn't know how to find his way back out."
Raoul kept his expression blank and dull, maintaining his pokerface if only to prevent from snapping at his superior. "I appreciate the assessment."
Marsh was unconvinced by Raoul's insincerity. He lowered his head and studied the contents spread across the faded wood. "Is there something on that desk that justifies all the time you're wasting on this mess?"
Raoul gave a brief, half interested nod. "There will be."
"That's not an answer."
"No," Raoul said almost a bit too smug. "It isn't. And you likely won't get an answer if you keep disturbing my work." Marsh sneered in disgust and shook his head. With an annoyed click of his tongue Marsh stepped away from the desk and began walking towards the door. For a moment Raoul's shoulders dropped, feeling relieved that he could continue his work in peace. Though just as Marsh reached the door, Raoul recalled something that had been bothering him. He may as well put Marsh to work for once. Perhaps he'd learn something useful. "Detective Marsh, can I ask you something?"
Marsh spun on his heel, spilling a bit of coffee on his coat. He looked annoyed but clenched his jaw and tried to look patient. "What is it, kid?"
Raoul leaned back into his chair. "Juvenile detention, a charge that results in a custodial sentence for a minor. Does that legally carry through to adulthood?"
Marsh frowned, thought about it for a few seconds, and shook his head. "Not at all. They're sealed on reaching adulthood."
"Any lasting legal consequences?"
"None. As far as the law is concerned, the person would have a clean record from eighteen." He paused. "Why?"
"Just needed to be sure." Raoul leaned forward and began reading through the records once more. "Thanks for the info."
Marsh didn't leave immediately, instead watching him a moment longer. "Whatever you're looking for, I suggest you find it quickly. Or close it out and move on." He turned back and opened the door to leave. "Your father never let a case run this long."
Raoul tensed at Marsh's comment. His head shot up as he prepared to shoot back, but the older man was long gone by then.
Raoul sighed, suddenly feeling his earlier momentum leave his body. He sat in the suddenly quiet office for a long while just trying to think.
'Sealed on reaching adulthood. No legal consequence.'
The juvenile record carried no consequence. Virgil's record was clean. Had been clean since he turned eighteen. Virgil didn't know, and instead spent however long believing he'd gain nothing in the end.
Raoul sat with that for a while, just trying to figure out why. His death was too intentional to have been a spur of the moment decision, but Raoul couldn't pin a motive for Virgil's suicide. He also didn't understand why Virgil wanted him to investigate Nero.
Nero Vale.
Raoul knew he hadn't been as thorough as he should have been during this investigation. He couldn't afford to drag it out much longer either. He'd gained enough information from Vincent and Violet, and he suspected he wouldn't learn much more from either.
The only Vale he hadn't spoken to yet was Nero. This investigation wasn't over just yet.