The Dead Man Who Could Not Have Killed Anyone

Chapter 05 - The Dead Man Who Could Not Have Killed Anyone

Larkin found the contradiction before the federal accountants did.

“My father died three years ago.”

Mara Ellis looked up.

“Yes.”

“Daniel Vale died eighteen months ago.”

“Yes.”

“Then how exactly did Malcolm murder him?”

Silence.

Warren Pike’s recorded statement sat on the screen between us.

Because Evelyn is alive.

And she told Thomas that if he wanted proof Malcolm had murdered Daniel—

Impossible.

At least literally.

Mara rewound the interview.

Warren had not said Malcolm’s men.

Not Malcolm’s organization.

Malcolm.

Larkin leaned back.

“He’s lying.”

“Or repeating someone else’s lie.”

I looked at the transfer diagram.

“Or using a dead man because dead men don’t deny things.”

Mara glanced at me.

“Good.”

I was becoming fond of that word.

Thomas was found twelve hours later.

Not hiding in Europe.

Not fleeing to Mexico.

He was in a private clinic in Westchester with a fractured wrist and three cracked ribs.

He claimed two men pulled him from his car after the gala.

No ransom demand.

No theft.

They took his phone and asked one question:

“Where is Evelyn?”

Then left him in a parking garage.

Convenient.

Maybe true.

His injuries were real.

Security footage showed two masked men.

That proved assault.

Not motive.

Thomas agreed to interview.

His lawyer sat beside him.

The smugness had disappeared.

He looked younger without it.

“Did you create the account in Penelope’s name?” Mara asked.

He stared at the table.

“Yes.”

The word did not surprise me.

Still landed.

“Why her?”

“Warren chose her.”

I looked at Warren’s empty chair in my mind.

“Why did you agree?”

Thomas glanced at me.

“Because nobody looked at you.”

There.

Not because I was suspicious.

Because I was forgettable.

Or had made myself so.

“You thought I’d be easy to blame.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know my apartment would be searched?”

His face changed.

“No.”

“Did you send the threat?”

“No.”

“Can you prove that?”

“No.”

Good.

Mara asked:

“Why Hartwell?”

Thomas swallowed.

“Daniel.”

“Vale.”

“Yes.”

“Your cousin’s driver.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know he was Evelyn’s son?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Two years before he died.”

“From who?”

“Warren.”

Larkin’s eyes narrowed.

“Not Daniel.”

“No.”

“Did Daniel know you knew?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Thomas laughed weakly.

“Because he didn’t trust you.”

That hurt Larkin.

He let it.

“Why?”

“Because you were Malcolm’s heir.”

Silence.

Thomas continued.

“Daniel thought you cleaned the family up cosmetically.”

“Was he wrong?”

Thomas looked at him.

“Not entirely.”

Larkin’s face went still.

Good.

No family loyalty reflex.

Mara asked:

“What did Daniel want?”

“Money returned.”

“To Evelyn.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Malcolm stole her share when he forced her out.”

“How much?”

“Eleven million originally.”

“Then why the additional sixteen?”

Thomas looked toward Warren’s empty seat.

“That wasn’t Daniel.”

There.

“Whose plan?”

“Warren’s.”

Of course.

Thomas continued.

“Daniel wanted the old amount adjusted with investment growth. He had calculations.”

“How much?”

“About fourteen million.”

“So eleven point eight through Hartwell plus another two or three.”

“Yes.”

“Not twenty-eight.”

“No.”

Mara leaned forward.

“Then explain Monday’s sixteen-million transfer.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

“Warren said Evelyn changed the demand.”

“Did you verify with Evelyn?”

“No.”

“Did you ever speak to Evelyn?”

Silence.

Larkin looked at him.

“Thomas.”

“No.”

There it was.

He had never spoken to the woman whose money he claimed to be returning.

“Then how did she communicate?”

“Encrypted messages.”

“From?”

“Daniel’s old account.”

Mara’s expression changed.

“After he died.”

“Yes.”

“Who had access?”

Thomas looked toward the floor.

“Warren.”

The room went still.

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because the answer had been sitting inside the question for months.

Warren introduced Thomas to Daniel’s story.

Warren approved Hartwell.

Warren controlled old vendor structures.

Warren told Thomas Evelyn wanted more.

Warren chose me as the scapegoat.

Thomas had been greedy, cruel, stupid, and willing.

Maybe not architect.

Larkin asked:

“Why did you go along?”

Thomas’s mouth tightened.

“Because I wanted you weakened.”

There.

Finally something personal.

“You inherit everything.”

Larkin looked at him.

“We were raised together.”

“Exactly.”

Thomas laughed without humor.

“Same house. Same tutors. Same family dinners.”

His eyes filled.

“Then Malcolm decided you had a brain and I had hands.”

Larkin said nothing.

“He sent you to Wharton.”

“Columbia.”

“Whatever.”

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

“He sent me to collect debts.”

Thomas looked toward the hospital window.

“By twenty-five you had a title. I had scars.”

“That doesn’t explain framing Penelope.”

“No.”

Good.

He looked at me.

“I wanted an audit crisis on your side.”

“My side?”

“You were Larkin’s employee.”

“I was nobody’s side.”

“I know that now.”

Too late.

“Why the gala?”

Thomas looked ashamed.

“Because if you spent money, it helped.”

I stared.

“And humiliating me?”

His jaw tightened.

“That was entertainment.”

There.

No excuse.

Good.

Mara continued.

“Who searched her apartment?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Not me.”

“Who threatened her?”

“No idea.”

“Who assaulted you?”

“No idea.”

That could all be true.

Warren was now missing again.

His Atlantic City hotel room empty after release pending warrant processing because the financial charges were still being assembled.

An administrative delay.

Expensive lawyers thrive in hours like that.

Then Mara’s team traced Daniel’s encrypted account.

Login after Daniel’s death.

IP addresses.

One belonged to Warren’s Manhattan townhouse.

Another did not.

A retirement community in coastal Maine.

Registered resident:

Evelyn Hart Steves.

Alive.

Sixty-four.

Real.

And according to the facility director, she had lived there under her own name for nine years.

No secrecy.

No bodyguards.

No fortune.

No sign she had received eleven million dollars.

Mara looked at Larkin.

“If that’s your aunt, she’s been easier to find than your family made her sound.”

Larkin stared at the address.

“Then why did nobody?”

I answered before thinking.

“Because people usually don’t search for women after deciding they disappeared.”

The room became quiet.

Larkin looked at me.

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That sentence was larger than Evelyn.

So was his expression.