Chương 6
“Yes.”
“So maybe we can postpone deciding which of us is the bigger asshole.”
That earned a real laugh.
Brief and broken, but real.
“Deal.”
At three, the private document examiner called.
The original transfer document had become available.
Claire put him on speaker.
“How?”
“Someone couriered it to my office this morning.”
Claire and Michael looked at each other.
“Who?”
“No return name.”
“Don’t touch anything else,” Claire said.
The examiner paused.
“I’m a handwriting analyst, Mrs. Bennett, not a bomb technician.”
Michael mouthed, Bomb technician?
Claire ignored him.
“Photograph the packaging.”
“I already did.”
“Can you examine it?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“If you want a preliminary comparison, tomorrow.”
They drove to the examiner’s office.
The courier envelope contained the original trust-transfer document.
Nothing else.
Thomas Bennett’s supposed signature appeared in blue ink.
The examiner, Dr. Samuel Greene, placed it beneath magnification.
“I can tell you one thing immediately.”
“What?” Michael asked.
“This is not a photocopied signature.”
Claire felt disappointment.
Then Greene continued.
“That does not make it genuine.”
He showed them microscopic breaks in the ink line.
“Hesitation.”
Michael leaned closer.
Greene pointed.
“Natural signatures have rhythm. Even elderly writers tend to maintain habitual movement. This has tremor in places where tremor doesn’t make anatomical sense.”
“Meaning?”
“Someone may have drawn it slowly.”
Claire asked, “Can you prove who?”
“No.”
“Can you prove it wasn’t Thomas?”
“With sufficient genuine samples and proper examination, I may be able to form an opinion. Proof is a legal word. I avoid it.”
Michael appreciated that answer.
Claire could tell.
They supplied samples from Thomas’s old birthday cards, contracts Michael could lawfully access through the company, and a handwritten note Thomas had mailed Sophie.
Greene examined the note last.
He frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
He looked at Michael.
“Where did this come from?”
“My daughter’s room.”
“Are you certain your father wrote it?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
Michael read it.
Soph—
Your grandmother says seven is too young for a real toolbox. Your grandmother is wrong about many things.
Happy birthday.
Grandpa T.
Sophie had received it four months before Thomas died.
Greene compared the signature.
Then he looked at Claire.
“The questioned signature resembles this one more than the corporate signatures.”
“So?”
“So I want more personal samples from his last year.”
Michael called Daniel.
Daniel provided access to several legitimate originals.
By six that evening, Greene was willing to say something.
“The transfer signature is almost certainly simulated.”
Michael sat very still.
“And the death certificate?”
“That one is more interesting.”
“Why?”
“It isn’t Thomas Bennett’s signature.”
Claire frowned.
“It looks identical.”
“Yes.”
“Then whose is it?”
“I don’t know. But whoever produced it copied the simulated signature from the transfer document.”
Michael looked at Claire.
“The fake copied the fake.”
Greene nodded.
“Likely.”
“Why would anyone create a fake death certificate?”
“I analyze writing.”
“Right.”
Greene removed his glasses.
“For what it’s worth, Mr. Bennett, people usually forge signatures to make something happen. Sometimes they forge records afterward to make what happened look ordinary.”
On the drive home, Michael said, “Someone forged Dad’s signature before he died.”
“Yes.”
“Then created a fake record after.”
“Probably.”
“And Mom knew enough to panic.”
“Yes.”
“But none of this explains Sophie.”
“No.”
At 7:03, the laboratory called.
The documented paternity test would take two business days.
Michael said okay.
Claire watched him hang up.
“You’re disappointed.”
“No.”
“You wanted the answer tonight.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
They picked Sophie up from Claire’s sister, who had collected her after school when the examination ran late.
On the way home, Sophie asked why adults were always saying they were five minutes away when they were actually fifteen.
Neither had a good answer.
That night Michael slept in the guest room.
He did not ask.
Claire did not tell him to.
The next morning, Bennett Holdings’ general counsel called Michael before seven.
There had been an emergency board notice.
Diane Bennett, acting as controlling trustee, had suspended Michael from his executive role pending an internal investigation into unauthorized access to confidential corporate records.
Michael sat on the edge of the bed reading the email.
Claire stood in the doorway.
“She knows we have the document.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s trying to discredit you.”
“Or contain me.”
“What’s the difference?”
“About six million dollars a year in company decisions.”
Claire stared.
Michael gave a tired shrug.
“You asked.”
By noon, his company email had been disabled.
His building access was revoked.
Two board members called privately to tell him they were sorry but could not get involved.
One did not call at all.
The family conflict had become professional.
Money did what money always did in families that claimed money wasn’t important: it revealed the price of loyalty.
Michael spent the afternoon calling attorneys.
Claire called none.
At three, an unknown number texted her.
You need to stop looking at Thomas’s records.
Claire showed Michael.
He immediately wanted to call the police.
“And tell them what?” Claire asked.
“That someone threatened you.”
“They told me to stop looking.”
“After Mom threatened you in an airport.”
“That’s still not a crime.”
“It’s intimidation.”
“It’s a text.”
Michael paced.
Claire watched him.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Trying to solve fear by turning it into a task.”
He stopped.
“What would you like me to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the problem.”
“No. Sometimes not knowing is just not knowing.”
He looked annoyed.
Then, reluctantly, he sat down.
They reported the message to their attorney instead.
That evening, Claire received another text.
Ask Diane about May 12, 4:40 p.m., Harbor Medical Center.
Michael searched the name.
Harbor Medical Center was a private diagnostic clinic in Boston.
Claire said, “Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t what?”
“Start calling people and announcing who you are.”
“What else do you suggest?”
“We find out why someone wants us there first.”
The next morning they went in person.
May you like
The receptionist would not discuss Thomas Bennett.
Good, Claire thought.
