Chapter 10: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The bank had approved a request to release my husband's estate using my signature.
But I hadn't signed anything.
"Where was the document submitted?"" I asked Helen.
"At the downtown branch yesterday afternoon. The request was processed electronically, but the original authorization was delivered in person.""
"Who delivered it?""
Helen hesitated.
"We have a name.""
"Tell me.""
"Eleanor Brooks.""
Daniel slammed his fist against the desk.
"I knew it! She was working with Richard!""
James Miller shook his head.
"Don't jump to conclusions. Eleanor might have submitted the paperwork believing it was legitimate.""
I looked at the blue ledger.
"Then why is her name on the first suspicious transaction?""
James opened the book and examined the entries.
"Because she was managing the company's accounts when the money disappeared. That doesn't necessarily mean she stole it.""
Daniel paced across the office.
"How many people do we have to trust before we discover another betrayal?""
I reached for his hand.
"Your father trusted us to find the truth. We can't start accusing everyone without evidence.""
Helen called again.
"Margaret, there's another problem.""
I closed my eyes.
"What now?""
"The bank has temporarily frozen the estate, but whoever submitted the release request also attempted to transfer $1.2 million into an outside account.""
My knees weakened.
"One million two hundred thousand?""
"Yes. Fortunately, the bank's fraud department flagged the transaction.""
Daniel leaned toward the phone.
"Can they tell us where the money was supposed to go?""
"Yes. The beneficiary account belongs to a company called Southern Heritage Holdings.""
James immediately looked up.
"I know that company.""
Everyone turned toward him.
He opened his notebook and searched through several pages.
"That's one of the shell companies I discovered six years ago. Richard and Robert used it to receive payments from Bennett Construction.""
Daniel stared at the page.
"So Eleanor was helping them.""
James didn't answer.
Helen continued.
"There's something else. The authorization contains a witness signature.""
"Whose?"" I asked.
"Daniel's.""
My son went completely still.
"That's impossible.""
Helen's voice softened.
"Daniel, your signature appears beneath your mother's.""
He took the phone from my hand.
"Someone forged my signature too.""
"I believe you," Helen replied.
"But we need to establish that with the original documents.""
I looked toward the office door.
"We're coming to see you.""
"Good. Bring the ledger. And Margaret, don't let anyone else handle that document.""
We left the construction office through the rear entrance.
James insisted on taking the ledger himself. He wrapped it in his jacket and placed it inside his bag.
As we approached the parking lot, Daniel stopped.
"Mom.""
"What is it?""
He pointed toward the street.
A black SUV was parked opposite the building.
Its windows were dark.
The driver's door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Eleanor Brooks.
She was seventy years old, with neatly styled white hair and a familiar brown handbag. I had known her for more than thirty years.
She had attended my husband's funeral.
She had brought me casseroles when I couldn't bring myself to cook.
She had hugged me and promised that Thomas's business would always be protected.
Now she was standing beside the vehicle holding a large envelope.
"Margaret," she called.
Daniel stepped in front of me.
"Stay away from my mother.""
Eleanor looked genuinely hurt.
"Daniel, please. I need to explain.""
I stared at her.
"Did you submit a document using my signature?""
She lowered her eyes.
"I submitted documents that I believed Thomas had authorized.""
"Thomas has been dead for six years.""
Her face tightened.
"Not everything was as simple as you believed.""
James stepped forward.
"Eleanor, do you recognize this?""
He opened his bag just enough to reveal the blue ledger.
Her expression changed immediately.
For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
"Where did you get that?""
"Thomas hid it," I answered.
She looked toward the SUV.
Then she lowered her voice.
"Margaret, you need to give me that ledger.""
"Why?""
"Because you have no idea what you're holding.""
Daniel shook his head.
"That's exactly what people say when they're hiding something.""
Eleanor reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a folded photograph and handed it to me.
It showed Thomas standing outside a hospital.
Beside him was Richard.
And behind them, partially visible through the glass doors, was another person.
I recognized the face immediately.
It was my son.
But Daniel had been nineteen years old when the photograph was supposedly taken.
He looked at it carefully.
Then his face drained of color.
"That's not possible," he whispered.
Eleanor nodded.
"It was taken three days before your father died.""
Daniel looked at me.
May you like
"Mom, I need to tell you something.""
And when he spoke, I realized the betrayal might have started much earlier than any of us had imagined.
