Chương 4
“She found out one of the partners was running client money through side accounts,” Richard continued. “Not stealing exactly. Hiding losses. Moving things around before quarterly statements went out.”
“And Evelyn?”
“She started moving money too.”
“To hide his fraud?”
“At first.”
Margaret frowned.
“At first.”
Richard nodded.
“Then she realized no one was watching the internal transfer accounts closely enough.”
“So she took some.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Richard’s mouth twisted.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Debt.”
“What debt?”
“Gambling.”
Margaret stared at him.
Richard held her gaze.
“Online sports betting. Casinos. Atlantic City. Private games.”
“No.”
“She hid it.”
“Evelyn hated gambling.”
“She hated losing.”
Margaret almost denied it again.
Then she remembered Evelyn at twenty-six, furious after losing twenty dollars at a church raffle because Margaret had teased her about it.
A stupid memory.
Tiny.
Useless.
Real.
Richard continued.
“She took eighty thousand first. Put it back within a month.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Then?”
“Two hundred.”
“Thousand?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Put most of it back.”
“Most.”
“She kept digging.”
Margaret pressed her lips together.
“Four-point-eight million.”
“That was the total movement. Not what she kept.”
“How much did she keep?”
“About nine hundred thousand.”
Margaret laughed without humor.
“What a relief.”
“She was going to be caught.”
“So she staged her death.”
“No.”
Richard’s answer came quickly.
Margaret watched him.
“No?”
“The accident was real.”
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“She was driving with a woman named Laura Bennett.”
“Who?”
“Someone from the firm.”
Margaret waited.
“Laura had discovered the transfers,” he said. “Evelyn was trying to convince her not to report them until she could replace the money.”
Margaret’s stomach tightened.
“The woman in the car.”
“Yes.”
“Laura Bennett died.”
Richard looked at the table.
Margaret did not need more.
“And Evelyn survived.”
“Yes.”
“Badly injured?”
“Concussion. Broken ribs. Burns on one arm. She was thrown clear.”
“How did police think Laura was Evelyn?”
“Evelyn’s purse was in the car. Her phone. Her wallet. Laura was wearing Evelyn’s coat.”
Margaret felt ill.
“Why?”
“It was raining. Laura didn’t have one.”
The detail was so ordinary that Margaret believed it immediately.
Richard continued.
“The body was badly burned. The hospital admitted Evelyn without identification. She gave a false name when she woke up.”
“And you identified Laura as Evelyn.”
“I believed it was her.”
“How?”
“The jewelry.”
Margaret’s throat tightened.
Evelyn’s wedding ring.
“The ring?”
Richard nodded.
“Laura had taken it off Evelyn’s hand earlier that night.”
“Why?”
Richard looked uncomfortable.
“Evelyn had been talking about leaving me.”
Margaret stared at him.
“She took off the ring during the argument. Laura put it on her own finger as a joke.”
Margaret frowned.
“What kind of joke?”
“Something about knowing what four carats felt like.”
For one second Margaret could hear Evelyn laughing.
Not a memory exactly.
An echo.
She pressed her thumb against her palm.
“Six weeks later,” Richard said, “Evelyn called me.”
“From where?”
“A pay phone outside Bridgeport.”
Margaret looked at him.
“She said she’d been discharged from the hospital.”
“And she asked you to help her disappear.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you?”
Richard took a long time to answer.
“Because I loved her.”
Margaret stared.
“That’s your explanation?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I loved her, and I was afraid of what would happen if the truth came out.”
“To her?”
“To everyone.”
“What does that mean?”
Richard looked toward the rain.
“The company was already under investigation. Laura had died. Evelyn thought if she came forward they’d blame her for the crash.”
“Was she driving?”
“Yes.”
Margaret shut her eyes.
“Drunk?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Speeding?”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“They were arguing.”
Margaret opened her eyes.
“Did Evelyn cause Laura’s death?”
Richard said nothing.
“Did she?”
“She caused the accident.”
The sentence settled between them.
Margaret looked down at the receipt.
The thin paper had absorbed a little water from the broken glass. The ink near the bottom was beginning to feather.
“Why didn’t the police discover the identification mistake?”
“Dental records were requested. The comparison was inconclusive.”
“Inconclusive isn’t confirmation.”
“No.”
“So somebody pushed it through.”
Richard looked at her.
Margaret understood.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I knew someone.”
“Of course you did.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It is always like that when rich people say it wasn’t like that.”
His face tightened.
“I was thirty-nine, Margaret. My wife was dead. I was barely functioning.”
“And six weeks later?”
“I was functioning very well.”
He accepted the insult.
Margaret leaned back.
“Then what?”
“I gave Evelyn money.”
“How much?”
“Thirty thousand cash.”
“You had thirty thousand in cash?”
“I withdrew it.”
“That leaves records.”
“It did.”
“And no one asked?”
“No.”
“Where did she go?”
“Chicago first.”
“What name?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s built a life.”
Margaret stared at him.
“She built a life after attending her own funeral in absentia.”
“She didn’t attend.”
“You know what I mean.”
Richard nodded.
For the first time he looked tired rather than frightened.
“She lived in Chicago for three years. Then Portland. Then somewhere in New Mexico.”
“And now Brooklyn.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
“Why is she here?”
Richard looked at the receipt.
“That’s the part I don’t understand.”
Margaret’s phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Claire.
The message contained three words.
COME DOWNSTAIRS. NOW.
Margaret stood.
Richard glanced at the phone.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
“I should come.”
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“Stay here.”
“She’s my wife.”
Margaret looked at him.
“So was Evelyn.”
The elevator ride down felt longer than the ride up.
Margaret stood alone under the soft gold ceiling lights, staring at her reflection in the mirrored wall.
Short silver hair.
Black suit.
White blouse.
Gold name badge.
She looked exactly as she had an hour earlier.
That offended her.
The doors opened into the hotel lobby.
Claire stood near the revolving doors, rain-dark city beyond the glass.
She had not put on her coat.
Margaret walked toward her.
Claire held out the receipt.
“Look.”
Margaret did.
Claire had unfolded it completely.
May you like
EVELYN J. MERCER.
Below the card information was the transaction time.
