Chương 5
“The transfer dates.”
“I saw them.”
“Look at the first one.”
June 12.
Six weeks earlier.
“I don’t understand.”
Tony tapped the page.
“When did your mother move in?”
“May.”
“When did Barron first complain about her being there?”
I thought about it.
He had complained about small things.
Her television being too loud.
Her leaving the hall light on.
Her buying a different brand of coffee.
Nothing serious.
“Maybe three weeks ago.”
“And when did he first suggest she might need another place?”
I stopped.
My mother looked at me.
Two weeks earlier, over dinner, Barron had casually mentioned a senior apartment complex near Quincy.
He said he had driven past it and thought it looked nice.
My mother had joked that she was not moving somewhere with scheduled bingo.
At the time, I had thought he was making conversation.
“Two weeks ago.”
Tony said nothing.
A cold feeling spread slowly through my chest.
“He started taking money before he wanted her gone.”
“That appears to be the timeline.”
“You think those things are connected.”
“I think we don’t know enough yet.”
My phone vibrated.
This time it was not Barron.
It was his brother Bruno.
You need to call me.
I showed Tony.
“Do you want to?”
“No.”
Another message arrived.
I’m serious.
He’s losing it.
Then a third.
He says you stole the savings.
My fingers went cold around the phone.
My mother read the message over my shoulder.
“Well,” she said softly.
“That was quick.”
Bruno called before I could decide whether answering him would be a mistake.
Tony held out his hand.
“Speaker.”
I accepted the call and put the phone between us.
Bruno did not say hello.
“What the hell is happening?”
His voice came fast and breathless, the way it always did when he had already chosen a side but wanted credit for asking questions.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Barron says you cleaned out the account and took your mother somewhere.”
My mother looked at Tony and mouthed, Somewhere.
Tony raised one finger, warning both of us not to interrupt.
“I didn’t take the money.”
“Well, he says you did.”
“The account history says otherwise.”
Silence.
Then Bruno said, “What does that mean?”
“It means the money was transferred out over the last six weeks.”
“By who?”
“I’m trying to find that out.”
Another silence followed, longer this time.
I heard traffic behind him and the faint rhythmic clicking of a turn signal.
“Bruno, where are you?”
“In my truck.”
“Are you driving?”
“I’m parked.”
He sounded offended that I had asked.
“Barron called me at six this morning.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That you went crazy because your mother stole cash from him, and when he asked her to leave, you took off.”
I looked at my mother.
Her jaw tightened.
“Did he tell you he hit her?”
Bruno stopped breathing loudly into the phone.
“What?”
“He slapped Mom across the face.”
“No.”
My mother leaned closer.
“Yes.”
Bruno cursed under his breath.
Then he said, “Okay, hold on.”
There was movement on his end, a door opening, then closing.
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“I assumed he didn’t.”
“He said she pushed him.”
“She put a hand against his chest after he started throwing her belongings around.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“You called me accusing me of stealing seventy-nine thousand dollars.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“You said he says I cleaned out the account.”
“That’s different.”
Tony shut his eyes briefly.
Bruno had always possessed a special talent for treating grammar as moral exoneration.
I said, “Did Barron ask you for money recently?”
The question came to me before Tony could stop it.
Bruno went quiet.
Tony’s eyes opened.
“What kind of money?”
“Any money.”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
“Bruno.”
“I said no.”
My mother sat straighter.
Tony wrote something on the back of the property sheet and slid it toward me.
Do not push.
I ignored him.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You always clear your throat before you lie.”
Bruno cleared his throat.
My mother looked at me.
Despite everything, I nearly smiled.
“I have to go,” Bruno said.
“Why?”
“I’m at work.”
“You just said you were parked.”
“In the parking lot.”
“Did Barron give you money?”
“No.”
“Did he transfer money to you?”
Bruno swore again.
“Adela, this is between you and your husband.”
“It stopped being private when he accused my mother of theft and told everyone I stole our savings.”
“I didn’t tell everyone anything.”
“Did he give you money?”
Tony shook his head firmly now.
I waited.
Bruno exhaled.
“He helped me with something.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“How much?”
“Jesus.”
“Bruno.”
“Twenty thousand.”
The number landed like a physical object.
Tony stopped writing.
My mother stared at the phone.
“When?”
“About a month ago.”
“What did you need twenty thousand dollars for?”
“That’s personal.”
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
“My marital savings paid for it.”
“I’m paying him back.”
“Did he tell you the money was his?”
Bruno hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Did you know it came from our joint account?”
“No.”
I believed that answer more than the others.
“What was it for?”
“I said it’s personal.”
“Then I’ll find out through lawyers.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“Apparently nothing is unnecessary anymore.”
Bruno breathed out slowly.
“My business is in trouble.”
He owned a small residential flooring company that had survived almost entirely on referrals and his ability to make customers like him.
Three months earlier, he had bragged at dinner that he was booked through autumn.
“What kind of trouble?”
“A supplier issue.”
Tony shook his head again.
I listened to the lie stretch between us.
“Try again.”
Bruno muttered something I could not hear.
Then he said, “I owe payroll taxes.”
My anger shifted shape.
It did not disappear.
It simply became heavier.
“How far behind?”
“Enough.”
“Does Celina know?”
“No.”
“Does your wife?”
Another pause.
“Some of it.”
May you like
My mother looked away.
Bruno’s wife, Marissa, had spent most of the previous year telling anyone who would listen that the business was doing wonderfully.
