Chương 10
I picked up the envelope.
It was sealed.
My name covered the front in Arthur’s uneven block letters.
Under it, in smaller writing, he had added five words.
For Vanessa, if Curtis disappoints me.
My fingers went cold.
Curtis looked away.
I broke the seal.
Inside was one sheet of paper and a small brass key taped to the bottom.
Arthur had written only two sentences.
Vanessa, if you are reading this, then I was right about my son in at least one way, and I am sorry for that.
The key opens the lower compartment behind the false back of the desk drawer, and what is there will explain why I changed the will.
Curtis lunged toward me before I reached the second sentence again.
Daniel caught Curtis by the forearm before he reached me.
“Back up.”
“I was reaching for the letter.”
“No, you were reaching for her.”
Curtis jerked free.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Then don’t move toward my client like that.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
Daniel stepped between us anyway.
I had backed into the console table without realizing it.
The brass key was still pinched between my fingers.
My heart beat so hard that the edges of the room seemed slightly out of focus.
Curtis looked at me over Daniel’s shoulder.
“Vanessa, listen to me.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what’s in that desk.”
“That’s the point.”
He dragged a hand through his hair.
“Dad was sick.”
“You’ve used that already.”
“I’m not talking about the will.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Daniel glanced at me.
“Do you want to leave?”
I looked toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s study.
“No.”
Curtis swore under his breath.
“Vanessa.”
I walked past him.
Daniel followed.
Curtis followed us both.
The study door was closed.
I had not been inside since the week Arthur died.
My hand hovered over the brass knob for a second before I opened it.
The room smelled stale.
Arthur’s books still filled the shelves.
His old green reading lamp sat crooked on the desk.
The leather chair where he used to complain about doctors was pushed beneath the window.
Someone had removed the framed photograph of Arthur and his wife from the corner of the desk.
That made me stop.
“Where’s the picture?”
Curtis stood in the doorway.
“What picture?”
“The one of your mother.”
“I don’t know.”
“It was right there.”
“Maybe Dad moved it.”
“He didn’t.”
“How would you know?”
Because I had dusted around it every week for three years.
Because Arthur had touched the edge of the frame whenever someone mentioned her.
Because after chemotherapy, when the drugs made him confused, he sometimes asked why she had not come home yet even though she had been dead for fourteen years.
I did not say any of that.
I crossed to the desk.
The stubborn bottom drawer resisted exactly as it always had.
I pulled once.
Nothing.
Twice.
It opened with a wooden scrape.
Inside were hanging files, an old calculator, a box of pencils, and a stack of property tax statements.
Curtis stayed near the doorway.
Daniel stood beside the bookshelf, watching both of us.
I removed the files.
The back panel looked solid.
I pressed it.
Nothing moved.
Then I remembered Arthur once showing me how the drawer could come entirely off its rails when the humidity swelled the wood.
I pulled harder.
The drawer slid farther than usual.
Behind it, near the bottom edge, was a tiny brass lock I had never noticed.
Curtis’s breathing changed.
That was all.
Just one deeper inhale.
It told me more than anything he had said.
I inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
A narrow panel released inward.
Behind it sat a black document pouch no larger than a paperback book.
I stared at it.
Curtis said, “Don’t.”
Daniel looked at him.
“That’s enough.”
“I’m telling her this is private.”
“Her name is on the letter.”
“That doesn’t mean everything in the desk belongs to her.”
“The study contents were specifically bequeathed to her.”
Curtis’s face tightened.
“You really memorized the will.”
“It’s my job.”
I took out the pouch.
Inside were three items.
A flash drive.
A small spiral notebook.
And an envelope from First State Bank marked Fraud Review.
Curtis turned away.
I opened the bank envelope first.
The pages inside were photocopies of transfer confirmations.
The amounts varied.
Twenty-two thousand.
Forty thousand.
Seventy-five thousand.
One transfer was only nine thousand eight hundred, which somehow made it seem more deliberate than the others.
Each moved money from Arthur’s private account into a company called CBL Strategic Holdings.
I looked at Curtis.
“What is CBL?”
He stared at the floor.
“An investment vehicle.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Do not ask him substantive questions without counsel.”
“I’m standing in my father-in-law’s study holding papers that say my husband moved almost nine hundred thousand dollars.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think anybody understands.”
Curtis finally looked up.
“Dad knew about those transfers.”
“Then why is there a fraud review?”
“He got confused.”
“You already said that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Daniel said, “Curtis, stop talking.”
Curtis ignored him.
“He funded investments for me before.”
“With nine hundred thousand dollars?”
“Not at once.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“He gave me access.”
“Then why did you tell Margaret you didn’t remember the confrontation?”
His face changed.
Only for a second.
But it changed.
Daniel noticed too.
Curtis looked toward him.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want lawyers in here.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“You invited one by changing the locks.”
I opened the notebook.
Arthur’s handwriting covered the first page.
Dates.
Amounts.
Short observations.
One entry read, Curtis says transfer was authorized, cannot produce authorization.
Another read, claims verbal approval during hospital stay, impossible because I was unconscious after procedure.
I swallowed.
The next page contained a list of names.
Some I recognized from Curtis’s golf club.
May you like
Others meant nothing to me.
Beside several were amounts and initials.
