Chapter 6 - MRS. WHITFIELD’S CONFESSION
Mrs. Whitfield did not deny it.
When Damon placed Elena’s note in front of her the next morning, she sat down and removed her glasses.
“I knew she was investigating something.”
“You knew Marcus’s crash might not have been an accident?”
“I suspected.”
Naomi stood near the fireplace.
“You let me work here for four months without telling me?”
Margaret looked at her.
“I let you work here because I recognized you.”
Naomi went still.
“You knew who I was?”
“Elena showed me your photograph.”
Damon felt the ground shift again.
Everyone in his house had apparently known pieces of his wife he had never been allowed to see.
“Start at the beginning,” he said.
Margaret folded her hands.
“Three weeks before Elena died, she came to me after midnight. She had found discrepancies in the foundation accounts. Marcus Carter had been helping her.”
Naomi whispered, “He never told me.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
Margaret looked at Damon.
“Elena believed Victor was moving money, but she thought someone else was helping him.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t know.”
Margaret’s voice broke.
“Then Marcus died.”
Naomi’s face crumpled.
“The police said he lost control on wet pavement.”
“I know.”
“He had alcohol in his blood.”
“I know.”
Naomi stepped closer.
“Marcus didn’t drink.”
Margaret nodded.
“That is why Elena became frightened.”
Damon paced.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Elena asked me not to until she had proof.”
“She died.”
Margaret looked down.
“And then Victor came to me.”
Silence.
“He knew my grandson had been arrested for embezzlement at his previous job. The charges were complicated. Victor offered legal help.”
Damon understood instantly.
“In exchange for silence.”
Margaret nodded.
“He told me Elena had become unstable. That if I repeated her suspicions, the family would accuse me of manipulating a grieving widower.”
Naomi’s anger flashed.
“So you said nothing.”
“I was a coward.”
Margaret did not defend herself.
“I have lived with that every day.”
She reached into her cardigan and removed another key.
It matched the one from Elena’s piano drawer.
“There are two keys.”
“To what?” Damon asked.
“A deposit box.”
“Where?”
“First Commonwealth Bank.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“The second copy.”
Margaret nodded.
“Elena gave me one key and told me Marcus had the other.”
Naomi stared at the key they had found.
“Then Elena got Marcus’s key after he died.”
“That would be my guess.”
Damon called the bank.
The box remained active.
Registered jointly to Elena Ashford and Marcus Carter.
But there had been activity after Elena’s death.
Damon’s face tightened.
“Who accessed it?”
The bank manager hesitated.
“Someone presented a death certificate and executor authorization eighteen months ago.”
Damon had been Elena’s executor.
He had never gone.
“Whose authorization?”
The manager emailed the scan.
Damon opened it.
His signature was at the bottom.
Perfectly forged.
And beneath it was the name of the attorney who notarized it.
May you like
Charles Ashford.
Damon’s father.
