Chapter 6 - A FUNERAL WITH TWO RECEIPTS
The threat turned a quiet dispute into something colder.
Naomi advised me to report it, preserve the envelope, and avoid going anywhere alone.
Brian, meanwhile, announced to relatives that I had become dangerous.
Some believed him.
Others said nothing, which had become a familiar kind of cruelty.
I could have spent days arguing with them, but the photograph directed my attention somewhere else.
Helen's grave was at Willow Ridge Cemetery, beneath a maple tree she had chosen herself.
I had visited every Sunday for nine years.
I knew the shape of every stone near hers.
What I had never checked was the cemetery's financial record.
I asked the administrator for copies of our burial invoices and maintenance charges.
The man frowned when he saw my name.
“Mr. Bennett, we received a request last month to transfer authority over this plot.”
“From whom?”
“Your son.”
The requested change would have given Brian control of the burial rights and access to the family memorial archive.
I had always regarded those records as sentimental.
Brian apparently regarded them as a key.
The cemetery's ledger also contained two receipts for the same private family vault.
One had been paid by me.
The other was issued to a firm called Vale Heritage Holdings.
I recognized the Vale name from the letter in Helen's cabinet.
Naomi traced the company's corporate history while I sat beside Helen's grave.
For the first time in years, I spoke to her without pretending I understood everything she had done.
“You left me a puzzle, Helen.”
The wind moved through the leaves.
“And I hope you left me the courage to solve it.”
Back at the office, Naomi found that Vale Heritage had been dissolved on paper, then revived under new management three years earlier.
The registered contact was an accountant named Philip Dane.
I knew Philip.
He had been my closest colleague for twenty years.
He had attended Helen's funeral.
He had helped carry her casket.
And last Christmas, he had warned me that Brian might need more money than I realized.
My phone rang before Naomi finished reading the records.
It was Philip.
His voice was affectionate, almost paternal.
“Walter, my old friend, I hear you're having trouble with Brian.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“People talk.”
He paused.
“Before you make a terrible mistake, there's something I should tell you about your wife.”
Naomi silently motioned for me to keep him talking.
May you like
Philip whispered, “Helen wasn't the woman you thought she was.”
