Chương 7
Investigators from the state charity bureau requested an interview with Elise.
Daniel arranged for separate counsel.
Her new attorney, Simone Park, was younger than Daniel by nearly a decade and spoke with a calm that did not invite argument. During their first meeting, Simone asked Elise to describe every foundation payment she had approved, including legitimate ones.
“There were hundreds,” Elise said.
“Then we start with the approval process.”
“I already gave Daniel everything.”
“Daniel represents you in connected matters that may not align perfectly with your interests here.”
“He said that.”
“Good.”
“I don’t like being passed between lawyers.”
“You are not being passed. You are being represented for different risks.”
Elise studied Simone’s office. There were no family photographs, only a ceramic mug filled with pens and a dying plant near the window.
“Do you think I need criminal counsel?” Elise asked.
“I am criminal counsel.”
The directness made her stomach tighten.
Simone opened a notebook. “I need the unflattering version of you.”
“I have approved two payments I shouldn’t have.”
“That is a fact. I asked for the version.”
Elise looked down at her bandaged hand.
“I liked being trusted by the Bellamys.”
Simone waited.
“I told myself I didn’t care about their name. That was not entirely true. Rooms changed when Lucinda entered. People returned Grant’s calls. When I became treasurer, I thought it proved they respected my work, not just that Grant had married me.”
“Did you ever ignore a concern because raising it might threaten that position?”
“Yes.”
“Which concern?”
Elise thought of Martin Hale avoiding her eyes during a board meeting eighteen months earlier. He had presented administrative expenses that increased despite a decline in fundraising costs. She asked one question. Lucinda interrupted to announce a new hospital partnership. Elise never returned to the expense line.
“I saw overhead rising,” she said. “I accepted an explanation that did not make sense because everyone else accepted it.”
“Did you benefit financially from foundation payments?”
“Not directly.”
“That answer has a hinge in it.”
“The foundation paid Bellamy Holdings for office space. Grant’s compensation from the company supported our household.”
“Did you know the rent was above market?”
“No.”
“Was it?”
“I don’t know.”
Simone wrote something.
Elise felt heat move up her neck. “I reported this.”
“Yes.”
“I brought them the records.”
“Yes.”
“You speak as if that doesn’t matter.”
“It matters greatly. It does not turn earlier conduct into innocence by declaration.”
The interview lasted four hours.
By the end, Elise had admitted to ignoring expense increases, approving payments too quickly, sharing passwords with Grant, and signing board minutes she had not read carefully. None of those admissions proved she knowingly joined a fraud. Together, they destroyed the version of herself she had used to explain why the fraud belonged entirely to other people.
Outside Simone’s office, Elise stood on the sidewalk while pedestrians divided around her.
Her phone showed six missed calls.
One was from Nina Alvarez, the foundation’s program director.
Elise had known Nina for five years. Nina managed literacy grants, food-access partnerships, and a network of after-school programs. She wore bright scarves, hated catered lunches, and could remember the names of children she had met once at rural libraries.
Elise called back.
Nina answered but did not speak.
“Nina?”
“You shouldn’t call me from your phone.”
“You called me.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have.”
Elise stepped away from the curb. “Are you the person who emailed me?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly enough to be either true or practiced.
“Are you safe?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“All right.”
“I need to know what happens to the programs.”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone says you’re trying to shut us down.”
“I’m trying to find out where the money went.”
“Those are the same thing to people who get paid Friday.”
Elise closed her eyes.
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nina.”
“I called because Martin is deleting calendar entries.”
Elise opened her eyes.
“How do you know?”
“He asked me to confirm that meetings with Arbor never happened.”
“Did they?”
“Some did. Not with Arbor people. With Grant and his mother.”
“What were the meetings about?”
Nina breathed into the phone.
“I can’t do this.”
“You already did.”
“No. I told you one thing. I have a mortgage. I have twelve staff members who think I can keep them employed. My mother lives with me. Lucinda knows which school my niece attends because she sends Christmas gifts. Do you understand what it is like to have powerful people be kind to your family?”
Elise leaned against a building wall.
“Yes.”
Nina laughed once, without humor. “Of course you do.”
“Do not delete anything,” Elise said. “Do not take documents you are not authorized to take. Write down what you personally remember, with dates if you can. Call a lawyer who represents you, not the foundation.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“I’ll pay.”
“No.”
“Then let Daniel find someone independent who may advise you before discussing fees.”
“I said no.”
“Nina—”
“You paid attention after they stopped loving you. Some of us had to pay attention while they still signed our checks.”
The call ended.
Elise remained against the wall.
A delivery cyclist swore at a taxi. Someone nearby opened a paper bag, releasing the smell of warm bread. The city continued at full speed around her, uninterested in whether one sentence had found the exact place to hurt.
That night, Lucinda called.
The number was private, but Elise recognized her voice after the first word.
“We should speak without attorneys.”
“No.”
“Grant is frightened.”
“He should be.”
“You always enjoyed sounding harder than you are.”
Elise walked through her kitchen, checking the locks though the security panel showed them secured.
“What do you want?”
“To prevent unnecessary damage.”
“You sued me.”
“The board sued you.”
“You control the board.”
“I influence people who respect my judgment.”
“You mean people who owe you money.”
May you like
Lucinda paused.
“That sounded rehearsed,” she said.
