Chương 6
I could still hear myself telling him to stop doing that.
He had waved me away.
“At my age, hackers can have the electric bill.”
I swallowed.
“Was it from his computer?”
“Possibly.”
“Curtis was in that study sometimes.”
Margaret watched me carefully.
“How often?”
“Not often.”
I thought about it.
“Usually when Arthur was asleep.”
Her pen moved.
“What?”
“I’m not interviewing you formally.”
“You’re writing things down.”
“I write things down when they matter.”
I looked at the legal pad.
For the first time, I understood why Arthur had trusted her.
She was irritating in the exact way careful people often are when the truth is still incomplete.
“Curtis used to go through mail,” I said.
Margaret stopped writing.
“What kind of mail?”
“Bank statements, property reports, investment envelopes.”
“Did Arthur know?”
“I assumed he did.”
“Why?”
“Because Curtis acted like he belonged there.”
The sentence embarrassed me as soon as I said it.
Margaret did not react.
“Did you ever see him remove anything?”
“No.”
“Photograph anything?”
“I don’t know.”
A memory surfaced because of the word photograph.
Curtis standing beside Arthur’s desk one afternoon with his phone held over a document.
I had entered carrying tea.
He had lowered the phone and smiled.
“Dad wants this sent to accounting.”
Arthur had been upstairs sleeping after chemotherapy.
I had believed him.
The memory made my skin prickle.
“I saw him taking a picture once.”
Margaret’s eyes changed.
Not dramatically.
Only enough that I noticed.
“When?”
“I don’t remember the date.”
“Before Arthur discovered the transfers?”
“Yes.”
“How long before?”
“Months, probably.”
“Did you see the document?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“He said Arthur wanted it sent to accounting.”
“Did that seem normal?”
“At the time.”
“And now?”
“Nothing seems normal now.”
Margaret wrote again.
I looked at the memo.
“Did Arthur confront him?”
“Yes.”
That answer came too quickly for me not to hear the weight behind it.
“What happened?”
“Curtis denied taking money.”
“Of course he did.”
“He said your father had authorized several short-term advances and forgotten.”
I almost laughed.
“Arthur forgot where he put his glasses.”
“He did.”
“He did not forget nine hundred thousand dollars.”
“That was his position too.”
I rubbed my thumb along the tissue until it tore.
“So the codicil is because Curtis stole from him?”
“The codicil is partly because Arthur no longer trusted Curtis with unrestricted control.”
“What’s the other part?”
Margaret leaned back.
“Arthur was afraid Curtis would do something reckless once he believed the inheritance was certain.”
The room felt colder.
“Reckless how?”
“He did not specify one act.”
“Margaret.”
“He mentioned debt.”
“What debt?”
“He suspected Curtis owed money privately.”
I stared at her.
Curtis had always complained about money, but he complained the way rich men complain about traffic.
Everything was irritating, nothing was dangerous.
We had a mortgage payment we did not make because the house belonged to Arthur.
Our cars were paid for.
Curtis earned more in a year than I had ever earned before leaving work to care for Arthur.
I had never seen an overdue notice.
“How much debt?”
“We don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I am not going to turn suspicion into fact just because fact would be more satisfying.”
I looked away.
Through the glass wall, people crossed the reception area carrying coffee and laptops.
One woman laughed at something on her phone.
A delivery man argued quietly with the receptionist about where to leave a package.
The normality of it irritated me.
I wanted the entire floor to understand that my marriage had become evidence.
“Did Arthur think the missing money went toward the debt?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know who Curtis owed?”
“No.”
“Was it gambling?”
“Possibly.”
I turned back.
“That means yes.”
“It means possibly.”
“Did he gamble?”
“You were married to him.”
“That isn’t an answer either.”
Margaret’s face softened.
“No, it isn’t.”
I hated that she had managed to make me feel ashamed without accusing me of anything.
Curtis played cards.
He bet on golf.
He liked private poker games with men whose watches cost more than my first car.
I had seen chips stacked in front of him at charity events and listened to him laugh about dropping ten thousand in Vegas.
But he always called it entertainment.
I had never asked whether he lost more than he admitted.
I had never asked where the money came from when he suddenly bought something expensive after claiming we needed to cut back.
For years, I had treated not knowing as a form of peace.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
Margaret folded the transfer memo and placed it back in the folder.
“Right now, nothing.”
“You brought it out for a reason.”
“Yes.”
“What reason?”
“Because Curtis may believe you know more than you do.”
I felt the muscles in my shoulders tighten.
“And if he believes that?”
“He may pressure you.”
“He’s already going to pressure me over the trust.”
“Yes.”
“So what are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you not to meet him alone until we understand what he thinks you know.”
I stared at her.
“He’s my husband.”
Margaret did not say anything.
The word sounded weaker after it left my mouth.
I looked down.
“Was.”
“You are still legally married.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
There was no pity in her voice, which helped.
I stood and walked to the window.
Twenty-one floors below, cars moved through the intersection in slow lines.
Arthur used to hate traffic lights because he believed every red light was mistimed specifically to annoy him.
He once spent an entire car ride explaining how he could redesign the city’s signal system.
He had been eighty-one years old and nauseated from chemotherapy.
I had laughed until he became offended.
Then he laughed too.
The memory came so sharply that my eyes burned.
“I miss him.”
Margaret’s voice was quiet behind me.
“So do I.”
May you like
“I’m angry at him.”
“That is allowed.”
