Chương 13
“Who took that?” she asked.
Miriam raised one hand, asking her to wait.
Richard said, “Dad sent me that picture.”
“When?”
“Last summer.”
“After you searched the room?”
“I didn’t search anything.”
“Why did he believe you had found the box?”
“You would have to ask him.”
“He is dead.”
Richard looked at Althea. “Conveniently.”
Claire stood so abruptly that her chair rolled backward.
“You watched him die,” she said.
“Sit down.”
“You watched him die, and you still say that.”
“Claire.”
“You grabbed his pillow before his body was cold because you knew he hid things there.”
Richard’s face went flat. “Sit down.”
She walked out.
The court reporter stopped typing.
Gordon requested a break.
In the hallway, Claire leaned against a vending machine and cried with both hands over her mouth. Althea stood several feet away, unsure whether to touch her.
“I believed him,” Claire said.
“About what?”
“That he didn’t know. I believed he made mistakes because he was scared.”
“He was scared.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
Claire wiped her face with a tissue. “He used Grandpa’s money to pay my rehab bill.”
Althea said nothing.
Claire looked at her. “You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“When I was twenty-four, I spent three months in treatment. Dad said insurance covered it. It didn’t. He paid almost thirty thousand dollars.”
The vending machine hummed behind her.
“Some of the money went to the company,” Claire said. “Some went to me.”
“That was not your decision.”
“He did it because of me.”
“He did it because he was your father.”
“He stole because he was my father.”
Althea sat on the bench across from her.
After a while, Claire joined her.
“My mother knew,” Claire said.
“About the money?”
“She knew the company was bad. She knew Dad borrowed from Grandpa. I don’t know how much.”
“You don’t have to solve this today.”
Claire laughed bitterly. “You sound like Ruth.”
“That’s insulting. Ruth has training.”
Claire’s laugh became a sob.
Althea handed her another tissue.
When the deposition resumed, Richard admitted entering Bill’s room while Bill was hospitalized the previous summer. He said he searched for insurance documents. He denied opening the wall compartment.
Miriam asked why his fingerprints were found on the blue box.
Gordon objected. There had been no forensic examination.
Miriam nodded. “You are correct. Withdrawn.”
Richard looked at her, furious.
The question had done what she intended. It showed how easily suspicion could be made to sound like evidence.
Althea understood the lesson.
She did not enjoy it.
Denise’s deposition the next day was less dramatic and more damaging.
She admitted hearing Richard call Bill an old bastard as he pulled the pillow away.
“I didn’t want to get involved,” she said.
“You were already in the room,” Miriam replied.
Denise twisted a ring around her finger. “Richard helped my husband get work two years ago.”
“Were you afraid he would retaliate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you believe telling the truth would harm him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe remaining silent would harm Althea?”
Denise’s eyes filled. “I tried not to think about it.”
She also testified that Bill had complained months earlier about Richard taking money.
“He said, ‘My own son thinks inheritance starts before burial.’ I thought he was being dramatic.”
“Did he appear confused when he said it?”
“He always appeared angry when he talked about Richard. I don’t know whether that counts.”
The adult protective services investigation concluded six weeks later.
The report found insufficient evidence of neglect or financial exploitation by Althea. It criticized incomplete medication documentation and informal financial practices but noted that hospice staff considered the care consistent with Bill’s directives. The report also referred the bank transfers involving Richard to law enforcement for review.
Althea read the letter twice.
She felt relief for approximately ten seconds.
Then she saw the referral.
She called Miriam. “Can we stop that?”
“No.”
“I don’t want him arrested.”
“This may not result in criminal charges.”
“But it could.”
“Yes.”
“I told Sonya about the ledger.”
“The bank had already reported suspicious activity.”
“Claire’s rehab money—”
“Does not make an unauthorized transfer lawful.”
Althea paced the kitchen.
“This is what Bill wanted,” she said.
“What makes you say that?”
“He told me not to destroy the ledger because I felt sorry for Richard.”
“That does not mean he wanted prosecution.”
“He put everything where it would be found.”
“He wanted the transfers considered in his estate plan.”
“He wanted Richard punished.”
Miriam was quiet.
Althea stopped pacing. “You think so too.”
“I think Bill wanted several incompatible things. Most people do. He wanted to protect you, recover money, avoid confronting Richard directly, preserve some image of himself as a father, and control what happened after his death.”
“He succeeded at the last one.”
“Only if you let his fear make every decision for you.”
Althea looked toward Bill’s empty room.
“What can I do?”
“You can decide what claims you pursue. You cannot erase bank records or direct the state.”
Richard called that evening.
It was the first time he had called Althea directly since the porch conversation.
“Did you report me?”
“The bank did.”
“You gave them the ledger.”
“Adult protective services asked for it.”
“You could have said no.”
“They had a subpoena.”
“You wanted this.”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe you’re fighting for the house but worried about what happens to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Althea sat at the dining table.
Because she had seen him sing at his father’s funeral. Because he remembered Evan’s bad shelves and had paid for Claire’s treatment with money he had no right to take. Because Bill’s final judgment, however accurate, did not contain every truth.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Richard breathed into the phone.
“The prosecutor called Gordon.”
“What did he say?”
“They’re reviewing financial exploitation charges.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“All right.”
“If this destroys the company, fourteen people lose jobs.”
“You said that before.”
May you like
“Because it is true.”
“So is what you did.”
