Chapter 3 - Uncovering the Web
By Monday morning, my house had transformed from a place of mourning into a war room. The girls were watching cartoons in the living room, a fragile sense of normalcy returning to their faces, though the shadows under their eyes betrayed their trauma.
I sat at my heavy oak desk with Thomas, an old friend who had spent thirty years as a criminal defense attorney before retiring. He had known Rose since she was a little girl with scraped knees. As he read through the notebook and listened to the audio recordings, his normally jovial face turned to stone.
"Charles," Thomas said quietly, taking off his reading glasses. "This is a homicide. And a financial fraud scheme of massive proportions."
"Can we go to the police right now?" I asked, my fists clenched on the desk.
Thomas shook his head slowly. "We could. The recordings are damning. But defense lawyers are sneaky. They could claim the audio is taken out of context, or that Rose was paranoid due to her illness. They could argue the medication mix-up was a pharmacy error. We need the final nail in the coffin. We need to know what's in that envelope."
"Rose explicitly told Lucy not to open it until Arthur makes a move for the house and the insurance," I reminded him. "I have to honor her last wish. She knew what she was doing. She set a trap."
Thomas nodded in agreement. "Rose was brilliant. Always was. If she set a trap, we need to let Arthur walk right into it. In the meantime, I have a buddy still working at the precinct. I'm going to have him quietly run background checks on Arthur and this 'Elena'. We need to trace the money."
Over the next two weeks, the girls settled into my home. I enrolled them in the local school and bought them new clothes, as Arthur hadn't bothered to send a single suitcase. He hadn't called once. Not to ask how they were sleeping, not to ask if they were eating. It was as if they had ceased to exist the moment the dirt hit Rose's casket.
But Thomas was busy. The information he uncovered was sickening.
Elena Vance was a twenty-six-year-old interior designer who had been seeing Arthur for over a year. They had already booked a lavish venue at a country club for mid-September. The deposit had been paid from a joint account Arthur had secretly opened. Even worse, Thomas discovered that Arthur had taken out massive secret loans against Rose's ancestral Savannah house—the house that had been in my family for generations, which I had deeded to Rose when she married.
"He's overleveraged, Charles," Thomas explained, spreading bank statements across my desk. "Arthur is drowning in debt. Bad investments. He needs that two million dollar life insurance policy, and he needs to sell the Savannah house, just to avoid bankruptcy and fund this new life with Elena."
One evening, while I was helping Rachel with her math homework, my cell phone rang. The caller ID flashed Arthur's name. It was the first time he had contacted me since the cemetery.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and answered. "Hello, Arthur."
"Charles," his voice was brisk, completely lacking any warmth. "I'm calling about some logistical matters. The insurance company requires a death certificate and some signatures from you, since you are the temporary guardian of the girls. Also, I'm putting the Savannah house on the market next week. I'll have my assistant send you the paperwork to sign over your remaining claim to the deed."
My blood boiled, but I remembered Thomas's advice: Play the fool. Let him think he's winning.
"The girls are doing well, Arthur, in case you were wondering," I said, my voice intentionally trembling to sound like a weak, grieving old man.
"Right, sure. Glad to hear it," he dismissed impatiently. "Just look out for the courier tomorrow. Sign where the sticky notes are. Don't complicate this, Charles. It's best for everyone."
He hung up. I set the phone down and looked toward the hallway. Lucy was standing there, holding the thick, sealed envelope.
"He asked for the house, didn't he?" she asked softly.
May you like
"Yes, sweetheart," I replied, a grim smile touching my lips. "He did."
Lucy walked over and placed the envelope in my hands. "Then it's time, Grandpa. Mom said it's time."
