My Husband Called It a Lesson Until I Opened His Mother’s Purse

“You know her?”

“She works for Ryan’s company.”

Claire corrected herself.

“She handles their books.”

Silence settled over the kitchen.

Margaret looked down at the transfer records.

Claire followed her gaze.

A bookkeeper.

A business in financial trouble.

Money moved out of Margaret’s account.

Ryan insisting some transfers went to the company.

Some did not.

Claire’s stomach tightened.

She looked at Martinez returning from the dining room.

“Officer.”

He stopped.

Claire raised the phone.

“I think I know who the other woman is.”

Martinez’s expression remained cautious.

Claire continued.

“She works in Ryan’s bookkeeping.”

Daniel’s face changed as the implication reached him.

Margaret closed the blue notebook.

“And if she handles his books,” she said quietly, “she may know exactly where my money went.”

Martinez looked at the photograph without taking Claire’s phone.

“Do not contact her.”

Claire lowered the screen.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Daniel gave her a look.

She added, “Not anymore.”

Martinez nodded as if he had heard the missing half of that answer before.

“If she has access to business accounts or records, that becomes something investigators may need to preserve.”

Margaret shifted on the stool.

“Will someone tell the bank?”

“You should contact the bank directly and report suspected unauthorized transfers.”

Martinez looked at Claire.

“But given what’s happened today, I’d recommend your mother do that with someone she trusts and document every conversation.”

Margaret gave Claire a tired sideways glance.

“We’re running low on candidates.”

Claire felt the remark exactly where it was intended.

Daniel set a hand on Margaret’s shoulder.

“You’ve still got me.”

Margaret looked at him.

“You tried to install a ceiling fan backward.”

“That was once.”

“It spun backward.”

“It spun.”

Despite herself, Claire smiled.

Then Elena touched Margaret’s arm.

“We really should go.”

Margaret’s expression flattened.

“You are very persistent.”

“It’s one of my worse qualities.”

Elena helped her stand.

Claire took the clean cardigan and held it open.

Margaret shrugged out of the stained beige one carefully.

A bruise was beginning to darken along the top of her left arm.

Claire saw it.

So did Elena.

Margaret followed their eyes.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

Elena said, “People say that a lot right before I tell them we’re still going to the hospital.”

Margaret sighed and put on the clean cardigan.

Claire gathered her purse, then stopped.

“Mom, where is your wallet?”

Margaret frowned.

“My purse.”

Claire opened it.

The wallet was there.

So were tissues, peppermint candies, two pens, reading glasses she apparently no longer remembered putting in the side pocket, and a folded church bulletin.

Claire checked the card slots.

Driver’s license.

Insurance card.

Debit card.

One credit card.

She closed it.

“I’m taking this with us.”

Margaret gave her a look.

“It is generally customary to take one’s purse when leaving the house.”

Claire nodded.

“Right.”

The reflex to manage everything had arrived fast.

Too fast.

She loosened her grip on the straps and handed the purse to Margaret.

Her mother took it.

That small transfer felt important.

Daniel noticed too.

“I’ll follow you.”

Claire looked at him.

“What about the railing?”

He stared at her.

She almost laughed again.

“Sorry.”

“No.”

Daniel picked up his toolbox.

“I’m fixing that railing before I leave tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I came here to fix a railing and apparently I need one thing today to be what I thought it was.”

Margaret nodded solemnly.

“That makes sense.”

Martinez stepped toward Claire.

“Before you leave, I need your contact information.”

Claire gave it to him.

He also asked if she had any photographs of Margaret’s injuries from before the officers arrived.

“No.”

“That’s okay.”

Elena said, “We’ll document what we see medically.”

Claire glanced toward the dining room.

“Is Diane staying here?”

Martinez’s expression remained neutral.

“We’re still determining next steps.”

“Is she allowed in my mother’s house?”

Margaret answered before he could.

“No.”

Martinez looked at her.

“That’s your decision regarding future access, assuming there’s no separate legal arrangement.”

“There isn’t.”

Margaret’s voice sharpened.

“And I want my key back.”

Bell, standing near the island, lifted the key ring in its evidence bag.

“We may need to retain it temporarily.”

Margaret frowned.

“I want the locks changed.”

Daniel raised a hand.

“I can do that.”

Claire looked at him.

“You own a drill.”

“That is dangerously close to expertise.”

Margaret almost smiled.

Martinez said, “Changing the locks is reasonable if Ms. Ellis wants that.”

“She does.”

Margaret glanced at Claire.

“I can speak for myself.”

Claire closed her eyes briefly.

“Yes.”

Margaret softened a little.

“I know you’re trying.”

“That doesn’t make it less annoying.”

“No.”

They stood facing each other for a second.

Then Margaret reached up and straightened the collar of Claire’s blouse.

It was such an old maternal gesture that Claire had to look away.

Elena guided Margaret toward the foyer.

Claire followed.

At the front door, Margaret paused.

“My notebook.”

Daniel hurried back and brought it.

Margaret tucked it inside her purse.

Claire looked at Martinez.

“Should that stay here?”

He shook his head.

“Keep it secure.”

Margaret nodded.

“It has been secure.”

Daniel opened his mouth.

Margaret raised a finger.

“Do not say anything about sewing baskets.”

He closed it.

The ambulance was parked at the curb, lights off.

A neighbor stood at the end of her driveway pretending to water a plant that had received more attention in ten minutes than most houseplants received in a year.

Margaret saw her.

“Oh, wonderful.”