Chương 9
“I wanted David to know I knew,” she said.
“Then mail him a letter.”
“I mailed him seven.”
“You wanted Emily to see.”
“Yes.”
Judith sipped her bourbon. “Why?”
Eleanor looked toward the black marina. Red and green lights moved slowly between anchored boats.
“Because she kept choosing not to.”
The answer sounded righteous. It also sounded incomplete.
After Thomas died, Eleanor had avoided the villa. Every room contained evidence of the body that was no longer there: the indentation in his reading chair, the handrail installed in the shower, a bottle of antacid in the desk drawer. Emily asked to stay temporarily because the roof of her own townhouse was being repaired after a leak. Eleanor agreed.
Two weeks became two months.
Emily changed the drapes without asking. David converted Thomas’s study. Carol and Frank moved into the guest wing. When Eleanor objected, Emily accused her of valuing an empty house over living family.
Eleanor could have gone there.
She could have stood in the doorway and demanded her keys.
Instead, she stayed at Judith’s apartment, then rented a furnished condo, then instructed attorneys. She told herself she was avoiding a fight. In truth, she had been afraid Emily would look at her with the same expression she wore at the hospital: as though Eleanor had personally arranged her father’s death.
“Did she call?” Judith asked.
“Yes.”
“How was she?”
“Angry.”
“That is not a diagnosis.”
Eleanor gave her a tired look.
Judith smiled. “You hate when people use your own habits against you.”
“I do.”
“Will you help her?”
“If she asks.”
“She did ask.”
“She asked why I had not warned her.”
“That is close, for Emily.”
Eleanor set down the glass.
Her phone lit with a message from her attorney, Mara Bell, confirming that David’s counsel had filed notice of an intent to challenge the trust transfer based on alleged incapacity and undue influence.
Eleanor read it twice.
Judith watched her face. “What now?”
“He is going to say I am incompetent.”
“Are you?”
“Frequently. Not legally.”
Judith held out her hand for the phone.
After reading the message, she whistled softly. “He’s serious.”
“He’s cornered.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
Eleanor took back the phone.
Thomas had once said David became most dangerous when he was embarrassed. Eleanor had dismissed the observation as another expression of dislike. She had believed David was vain, not criminal. She had also believed Emily’s marriage, however unpleasant, belonged to Emily.
That distinction now looked like cowardice.
The next morning, Emily met Priya at a bank branch and signed documents restricting access to the remaining funds. She froze her credit, filed an identity theft report concerning the lending account, and authorized a forensic examiner to image her old tablet and laptop.
Priya warned her not to expect immediate answers.
“People think digital records are magic,” she said as they walked toward the parking lot. “They are mostly clutter with timestamps.”
“What if he deleted everything?”
“Deletion leaves some traces. It does not guarantee recovery.”
“What if I gave him permission?”
“Permission to do what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then stop using that sentence as a confession.”
Emily unlocked her car.
Priya remained beside her. “Your husband’s attorney sent the affidavit.”
She handed Emily a copy.
The document stated that Eleanor had repeatedly promised to transfer the villa to Emily, that David managed the property with Eleanor’s full knowledge, and that all renovations were authorized. It also said Eleanor showed signs of confusion after Thomas’s death and had become vulnerable to pressure from her attorney and the community foundation.
At the bottom was a space for Emily’s signature.
A second page listed examples of confusion.
Eleanor forgetting a lunch appointment.
Eleanor calling Emily twice about the same insurance bill.
Eleanor accusing a housekeeper of moving Thomas’s watch, then finding it in a drawer.
Emily recognized each incident because she had told David about them.
“I gave him this,” she said.
“You told your husband things about your mother.”
“I gave him evidence.”
“You gave him stories. He turned them into evidence.”
“Are they enough?”
“To prove incapacity? Not remotely. To create expense and embarrassment? Possibly.”
Emily read the line about the watch again.
Her mother had been frantic that day. She called Emily four times. When the watch appeared in the drawer, Eleanor accused the housekeeper of returning it secretly. Emily told David she was afraid grief had made her mother paranoid.
Two weeks later, Emily found a photograph showing Thomas wearing the watch the day before he entered the hospital. Eleanor had placed it in his drawer after collecting his belongings. Emily never told David the second part.
“Can I speak to my mother?” she asked.
“You do not need my permission.”
“Should I?”
“That depends on whether you want information or forgiveness.”
Emily folded the affidavit.
“I don’t know.”
“Then ask for information.”
Eleanor agreed to meet at a diner halfway between the hotel and the villa.
She arrived early and chose a booth facing the door. Her turquoise blouse was gone. She wore a cream sweater and dark glasses despite the overcast sky.
Emily sat across from her.
A waitress poured coffee into both cups without asking and called them honey. Eleanor added one packet of sugar. Emily added three, then felt watched even though her mother had not looked up.
“I have questions,” Emily said.
“I assumed.”
“Did you promise me the house?”
“No.”
“Did Dad?”
“Not in any legal or practical sense.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he sometimes said, ‘This will always be your home.’ He also said the boat would always be yours, and he sold it in 2018.”
“He was angry with me.”
“He was tired of paying for the dock.”
The waitress placed two menus between them.
Emily pushed hers aside. “Did you authorize David to manage renovations?”
“No.”
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“Did you sign anything giving him authority?”
“I signed a letter allowing him to speak with the security company while you were staying there. That was all.”
