The Missing Money Was Older Than Lauren

Chapter 06 - The Missing Money Was Older Than Lauren

The safe-deposit box could not be opened until morning.

That did not stop anyone from trying to explain themselves before midnight.

Peter Walsh was first.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I looked at him.

“Do you?”

“You think I took money.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

He said it cleanly.

I believed him more than I believed my husband.

That realization hurt.

Peter continued.

“Four years ago, I found irregular transfers from three development accounts.”

“How much?”

“About nine hundred thousand.”

Rebecca closed her eyes.

Daniel stared at Peter.

“You never told me this.”

Peter laughed once.

“I did.”

“No.”

“I emailed you.”

“When?”

“Three days before Margaret died.”

Daniel’s face changed.

My mother’s timing again.

Peter pulled out his phone.

He still had the email.

Subject: URGENT — WESTFIELD / GLENVIEW / LARKIN DISCREPANCIES.

Sent.

Opened.

No reply.

Daniel stared.

“I don’t remember this.”

Peter looked at him with something close to disgust.

“You were sleeping with Lauren by then?”

Lauren had told me their affair began seven months ago.

Four years earlier made no sense.

“No,” I said.

Peter nodded.

“My point exactly. The money problem existed before Lauren.”

Rebecca shifted.

Everyone looked at her.

She lifted both hands.

“I did not steal nine hundred thousand dollars.”

“Did you know about it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Daniel turned.

“What?”

Rebecca sighed.

“Dad told me.”

Daniel’s father, Frank Harrison, had been dead five years.

He founded a small carpentry company that eventually became part of Harrison Custom Homes.

Frank had never liked me.

He called my payroll systems “secretarial stuff.”

At our wedding, he told Daniel not to put property in both names because “women get ideas.”

I had spent twenty-two years pretending those comments were old-fashioned rather than hostile.

“What did Frank know?” I asked.

Rebecca’s voice softened.

“He thought Daniel was moving money.”

Daniel stood.

“That is insane.”

“Dad thought lots of things.”

“He was sick.”

“He was dying, not stupid.”

The words landed.

Rebecca continued.

“He showed me transfers into a company called HCH Materials Consulting.”

Peter nodded.

“That was one of the vendors.”

Daniel looked genuinely confused.

“I have never heard of it.”

Michael spoke from below the stage.

“I have.”

Every head turned.

He looked sick.

Of course.

Of course he did.

I almost laughed at the absurdity.

“Michael.”

“It was one of Uncle Robert’s companies.”

My father’s brother.

My uncle.

Dead eight years.

The Cole side of my family.

Suddenly the Harrison scandal had crossed the aisle.

“What did Uncle Robert have to do with our company?”

Michael rubbed his forehead.

“He loaned Daniel money during the recession.”

Daniel looked at him.

“That was private.”

I turned.

“Private from your wife?”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“Claire.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

I stared.

We nearly lost our home during the recession.

I took freelance bookkeeping jobs at night.

I stopped buying clothes for two years.

Daniel had borrowed half a million dollars from my uncle and never told me.

“What happened to the money?”

“It saved the company.”

Peter shook his head.

“Not all of it.”

Daniel glared.

Peter did not back down.

“Three hundred thousand entered company accounts. Two hundred went elsewhere.”

Rebecca whispered, “Oh God.”

I looked at Daniel.

“Where?”

He sat down again.

“I paid Frank.”

“Your father?”

“He had debts.”

“What kind?”

Daniel hesitated.

Ellie spoke quietly.

“Gambling?”

Everyone looked at her.

She shrugged.

“Grandpa used to watch horse racing all day.”

Daniel’s face broke slightly.

“Yes.”

My daughter had solved in five seconds what adults had concealed for fifteen years.

“Dad owed dangerous people money.”

“So you used my uncle’s loan.”

“Yes.”

“Without telling me.”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

Daniel rubbed his hands together.

“I repaid Robert over time.”

“Through HCH Materials Consulting?”

“No.”

Michael answered.

“Yes.”

Daniel looked at him.

“What?”

Michael swallowed.

“Uncle Robert set it up so repayments looked like vendor expenses.”

Daniel stared.

“That was his accountant’s idea.”

“And after Robert died?”

Michael lowered his eyes.

“I inherited the company.”

The room went silent.

I felt suddenly cold.

“You continued billing Harrison Custom Homes.”

Michael nodded.

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

“How much?”

His voice was barely audible.

“Six hundred and forty thousand.”

My cousin had stolen from us.

Not once.

Monthly.

Quietly.

While handling my mother’s estate.

While helping Daniel draft divorce papers.

I stood.

Ellie grabbed my hand.

Not to stop me.

Just to be there.

Michael began quickly.

“I was going to pay it back.”

“Of course.”

“I had debts.”

“Of course.”

“Claire, I never meant—”

“Stop.”

He stopped.

My voice surprised me.

It was calm.

“Everyone tonight has had a reason.”

Daniel looked away.

Rebecca lowered her eyes.

Michael stared at the floor.

“Bankruptcy. Illness. pressure. love. fear. debt.”

I looked at all of them.

“Reasons are not the same as permission.”

No one answered.

Peter cleared his throat.

“The nine hundred thousand doesn’t fully match Michael’s withdrawals.”

I turned.

“What?”

“He took six-forty. The discrepancy was closer to nine.”

“Meaning someone else took the rest.”

“Yes.”

Rebecca looked toward Daniel.

Daniel looked at Peter.

Michael looked at Rebecca.

Ellie held up the little brass key.

“Maybe Grandma knew.”

I looked at my daughter.

She seemed exhausted now.

Thirteen.

Too young for any of this.

I knelt beside her.

“Enough for tonight.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Ellie.”

“Grandma gave me the password three years ago.”

I froze.

“What?”

“She sent me emails.”

My heart stopped.

“After she died?”

Ellie nodded slowly.

“Scheduled emails.”

My mother.

Of course.

One every birthday, perhaps.

One every Christmas.

I had no idea.

Ellie looked scared now.

“I didn’t tell you because Grandma said some messages were just for me.”

“That’s okay.”

“There was one last night.”

My skin prickled.

“What did it say?”

Ellie opened her phone.

An email from Margaret Cole.

Delivered at 6:00 p.m.

Before the awards dinner.

Subject:

IF LAUREN IS WEARING THE PEARLS.

I stared.

My mother had been dead four years.

Lauren had worked for Daniel less than two.

“That’s impossible.”

Ellie shook her head.

“It wasn’t written by Grandma.”

She looked toward Rebecca.

“It came from Grandma’s account.”

Then she read the first line aloud.

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