Chapter 7 - The Money Sent to Patricia
I knew Patricia Hale as the kind of woman who arrived at holidays with an empty dessert plate and a full opinion about everyone else's cooking.
She had never liked me.
She called my nursing career respectable in the same tone someone might use for a scratched piece of furniture.
But I couldn't imagine why Thomas would send her a quarter of a million dollars.
"Was it a gift?" I asked Richard.
"The notation says temporary advance pending documentation."
"Documentation of what?"
He turned over the transfer confirmation.
The account was associated with a holding company named Elm Harbor Services.
Patricia was an officer of the company.
Daniel had once mentioned Elm Harbor as a potential investor in his business.
He'd said the deal had fallen through.
Richard arranged a review with a forensic accountant named Celia Grant.
She examined the ledgers without drama.
Then she drew three columns on a legal pad.
"Money into Daniel's company," she said.
"Money out to affiliated entities. And money that cannot yet be traced."
"Has Daniel stolen from us?"
"I won't use that word until I can establish whose money it was and why it moved."
"Everyone keeps saying we don't know," I snapped.
Celia put down her pen.
"Mrs. Sullivan, I understand why that hurts."
"Then tell me what we do know."
"We know Thomas was trying to trace funds associated with your son's business."
She tapped a row of payments.
"And we know Patricia received money shortly before his death."
I spent that afternoon reviewing my old bank statements.
Each familiar grocery purchase made the other figures feel stranger.
Thomas and I had saved coupons while hundreds of thousands of dollars moved beyond my sight.
My husband had loved me.
I knew that.
But his secrets had left me to discover the shape of our marriage from strangers.
That evening I stood at the windows and finally let myself be angry with him.
"You should have trusted me," I said to his photograph.
"I was your partner."
The apartment remained silent.
At eight forty, Daniel called.
For the first time since the funeral, he sounded young.
"Mom, please stop digging."
"Tell me why your father paid Patricia Hale."
He inhaled sharply.
"How did you find that?"
"Answer me."
"Vanessa said it was a bridge loan."
"A bridge to what?"
He sounded as if he were turning away from someone.
"She said we'd all be ruined if he didn't send it."
"Who told you that?"
Daniel was silent for so long that I thought the call had ended.
Then he whispered, "Mom, Dad wasn't the only one who kept records."
A door slammed near him.
Vanessa shouted his name.
And Daniel spoke quickly, almost desperately.
"Look under the old church donation account."
May you like
The line went dead.
