Chương 12
“I’m not with Richard.”
There was a pause.
“I see.”
“How did you get my number?”
“You are listed as a personal guarantor on the loan.”
The kitchen went silent.
I gripped the phone.
“I’m listed as what?”
“A personal guarantor.”
“I did not guarantee a Commonwealth Commercial loan.”
Another pause.
This one lasted longer.
“Mrs. Cole, perhaps it would be better if we verify your identity and then—”
“My attorney is on this call.”
Naomi spoke.
“This is Naomi Feld, counsel for Claire Cole.”
Mr. Bell’s tone changed immediately.
“I understand.”
Naomi said, “Do not disclose account-specific information until you verify her authorization.”
“Of course.”
I stared at the wall.
“Am I on the loan?”
Mr. Bell hesitated.
“I can confirm only after verification.”
“Then verify me.”
Naomi said, “Claire.”
“I need to know.”
Mr. Bell walked me through identity questions.
Address.
Date of birth.
Last four digits of my Social Security number.
A security question I did not remember creating.
“What was the name of your first pet?”
I almost laughed.
“Biscuit.”
Tessa mouthed, Biscuit?
I waved her off.
Mr. Bell returned after a short hold.
“Yes, Mrs. Cole.”
My throat tightened.
“You are listed as guarantor.”
“For how much?”
“The original guaranty was two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
I sat down.
“And the current balance?”
Naomi interrupted.
“Before answering, Mr. Bell, can you tell us the date the guaranty was executed?”
“March nineteenth of last year.”
The day after the document in my cloud folder had been created.
“Do you have my signature?”
“Yes.”
“Was it notarized?”
“According to our records, yes.”
I closed my eyes.
I had not appeared before a notary on March nineteenth.
I knew exactly where I had been.
My consulting firm had held an all-day client workshop in Charlottesville.
There were twenty-six people who could confirm it.
“I did not sign a guaranty that day.”
Mr. Bell became careful.
“Mrs. Cole, I cannot assess that statement.”
“I understand.”
Naomi’s voice cut in.
“We need copies of every document bearing my client’s signature, along with any notarization, identification records, and origination communications.”
“I’ll have to route that through our legal department.”
“Please do.”
I pressed my fingertips against the table.
“Mr. Bell, is the loan delinquent?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“How delinquent?”
Naomi said my name warningly.
Mr. Bell answered anyway.
“Forty-seven days.”
I swallowed.
“What happens next?”
“We had scheduled a default review for Monday.”
“Because payments stopped?”
“There are several covenant issues.”
“Such as?”
Naomi intervened.
“We can address those through counsel.”
Mr. Bell agreed and ended the call after taking Naomi’s information.
The moment the line disconnected, I said, “He forged my signature.”
“We do not know that yet.”
“I was in Charlottesville.”
“That matters.”
“I have calendar records.”
“Good.”
“Client invoices.”
“Good.”
“Hotel receipts.”
“Excellent.”
“I did not sign that loan.”
Naomi no longer corrected me.
“Then we establish that.”
My breath came shallow.
“And the notary?”
“We identify who it was.”
Tessa sat beside me.
“Do you know any notaries connected to Richard?”
I looked at her.
Then I knew.
Not because of brilliance.
Because of Christmas cards.
Because for years one particular envelope arrived with a silver snowflake seal and a photograph of Eleanor standing beside a woman who had worked at the county clerk’s office since Richard was a teenager.
“Eleanor’s friend.”
Naomi said, “Name?”
“Patricia Weller.”
“Are you sure she is a notary?”
“She notarized paperwork when Eleanor refinanced her kitchen.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“That does not prove she notarized this.”
“I know.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was Doug.
I answered.
“You need to come back.”
“No.”
“You need to hear this.”
“What happened?”
“Mom found something.”
“Documents?”
“No.”
His voice sounded strange.
“Cash.”
I looked at Tessa.
“How much?”
“We haven’t counted all of it.”
“Where?”
“In the basement freezer.”
For a second, I thought I had misheard.
“The freezer?”
“Inside two frozen turkey boxes.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“How much, Doug?”
“Maybe sixty thousand.”
Naomi said sharply, “Tell him not to touch it.”
I repeated her instruction.
Doug laughed bitterly.
“A little late.”
“What did you do?”
“Mom dumped it on the laundry table.”
“Of course she did.”
“I told her to stop.”
“Photograph everything where it is now.”
“We already moved it.”
“Then photograph that.”
“There’s more.”
My stomach sank.
“What?”
“There are deposit slips with it.”
“Whose account?”
“That’s the weird part.”
He shuffled papers.
“They say R. Cole Holdings.”
“Do not touch those slips again.”
Doug gave a humorless laugh.
“You keep saying that after we touch things.”
“I know.”
Naomi was speaking in my other ear through Tessa’s phone now, and I could hear keys clicking while she worked.
“Photograph the cash, the boxes, the freezer, the laundry table, everything around it,” she said.
I repeated the instructions.
Doug said, “Mom already put the turkeys back.”
“Then photograph the turkeys too.”
There was a pause.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
I heard Eleanor in the background asking why anybody would photograph frozen poultry.
For the first time in two days, the absurdity of my life became so complete that I had to sit down.
Naomi said, “I am contacting counsel for Commonwealth Commercial and the catering lender.”
“What do we do about the cash?”
“Nothing physically.”
“Could it be Doug’s repayments?”
“Possibly.”
“He said some of what he repaid was cash.”
“I heard.”
“If Richard put it in his mother’s freezer, that means—”
“It means cash was found in his mother’s freezer.”
I rubbed my face.
“You enjoy doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Stopping me one inch before a conclusion.”
“It keeps us employed.”
A new message appeared from Madison.
Dad is at my hotel.
I stood so fast the chair legs scraped the floor.
“He found Madison.”
Naomi stopped typing.
“Is she in her room?”
“I don’t know.”
I called.
Madison answered in a whisper.
“He’s downstairs.”
“How do you know?”
“The front desk called.”
May you like
“What did they say?”
“That my father is asking for my room number.”
