Chapter 10 - The Debt of the Dead
We stayed in Savannah until evening because the bank manager refused to release copies of the account records without a formal request. I drafted the request myself, citing the trust’s fraud-screen provision and the court’s emergency guardianship order.“You are using the order against the guardian,” Marcus said.“That is what poorly drafted authority is for.”The copies arrived at six.The ledger showed payments from Celia’s network to Gertrude, Warren, Brandon, and a fourth recipient listed only as A. Vale.“A could be Abigail,” Mara said.“I was not receiving money from Celia.”“You may have been a beneficiary without knowing.”The payments to A. Vale stopped two months before my mother died. The next entry was a transfer to an account in Switzerland.Marcus frowned. “Your mother had a foreign account?”“Not that I know of.”Pike’s voice came through the phone. He had insisted on speaking from the retirement community.“Elise did not own the account,” he said. “Celia used it to hold money temporarily.”“Why list my mother?”“Because she discovered it.”“What did she do with the money?”“She tried to return it.”The paper ledger contained a notation in my father’s handwriting: E. found it. E. will testify. Protect A.“Who is A?” I asked.Pike did not answer.“Who is A?”“Your father never told me.”“You just said he wanted to protect A.”“I assumed it meant Abigail.”“You assumed.”The call ended.Mara opened the ledger under a magnifying lamp in the hotel room. “There are impressions on the next page.”She brushed a sheet of graphite over the paper. Faint writing appeared.MAYFIELD TO VESPER. BENEFICIARY: A. VALE. IF E. FAILS, USE G.“G means Gertrude,” I said.“Or Georgia.”“The initials repeat beside every payment.”“Then Gertrude was the fallback.”The hotel door opened before we heard a knock.Warren Cole entered holding a pistol.He was in his sixties, with a weathered face and a gray beard. I had seen him once at my father’s office when I was a child. He had handed me a peppermint and told me never to trust a man who hid his hands.Now one of his hands held a gun.“Give me the ledger,” he said.Marcus rose slowly. “Put the weapon down.”“You’re not law enforcement.”“Neither are you.”Warren’s eyes fixed on me. “Your father ruined everyone around him.”“You took money from Celia.”“I took what she owed me.”“For what?”“Silence.”“About my mother.”He flinched.“You knew about the brakes,” I said.“I knew Celia was dangerous.”“And you accepted payments.”“I had a daughter.”“So did my father.”“You think that makes him innocent?”“No. It makes him responsible.”Warren looked toward the ledger. “Celia is going to kill you.”“She already tried.”“That was Brandon. Celia wanted the money, not your death.”“You are defending her.”“I am telling you that she has done worse things than you know.”He placed the gun on the table but kept his hand near it.“The account in Switzerland belongs to Elise,” he said. “She took the money to expose Celia. Your father planned to use it as evidence.”“Where is the account now?”“Empty.”“When was it emptied?”“The day your mother died.”“Who withdrew it?”“A man using Thomas’s identity.”I looked at Marcus.“Celia,” he said.Warren shook his head. “No. The withdrawal came from inside Northstar.”“Who had access?”“Your father. Celia. And the person who later became his successor.”“Me.”“Not you.”The words sat between us.My father’s successor had been named in a corporate filing two years before his death. I had never read the document because Thomas had not transferred control to me. He had appointed an interim chief executive.I searched the state records.The successor was Gertrude Vale.My mother-in-law had taken control of Northstar after my father’s illness began. She had told me she was merely handling administrative matters.Warren picked up the pistol.“Gertrude did not just help Celia,” he said. “She opened the account.”He left through the service stairs before Marcus could stop him.Mara looked at me. “Do you believe him?”“I believe he wants us to blame Gertrude.”“The filing proves she had access.”“Access is not theft.”My phone rang.Gertrude’s number appeared.I answered.“I know you found the ledger,” she said.“Then you know your name is in it.”“My name is in many things.”“Did you arrange my mother’s death?”Gertrude inhaled sharply.“No.”“Did you open the Swiss account?”“Yes.”“Why?”“Because your father asked me to.”The line went silent.“That is impossible.”“Come home,” she said. “I will show you the letter.”
