Chapter 8 - The Account in a Dead Woman's Name
The bank's investigation identified forged documents used to open the account. A signature resembling Loretta's appeared on a form dated long after her death. The account had received payments from companies linked to Julian, then sent money to an offshore entity.
The authorized online user was listed as M. BROOKS.
"They're trying to make it look like me," Malcolm said.
Dana shook her head. "We can't assume intent yet. But we need to preserve your travel records and communications."
Malcolm handed them over.
The independent board committee suspended Julian pending its review. A separate investigator interviewed employees who had raised concerns over the years. Some had been ignored. Others had been transferred or pressured to resign.
One former accountant, Tasha Monroe, arrived carrying a banker box.
"Simone trained me," she told Dana. "She said if I ever found a number that didn't make sense, I should follow it until it did."
Tasha had kept copies of invoices after being fired for asking about a suspicious vendor. She recognized the offshore entity. It had paid for Celeste's wedding ring, the mansion portrait, and a vacation Julian had described as a business retreat.
"Why keep this for four years?" Malcolm asked.
"Because people with your name on their buildings don't always listen to women carrying cardboard boxes," she said.
Malcolm lowered his eyes. "You're right. I'm listening now."
The financial evidence widened the investigation, but it did not answer who tampered with Simone's car or who caused Marcus's garage fire.
Christmas Eve arrived under a cold, clear sky. Renee refused to let the investigation swallow the children's holiday. She strung colored lights around the porch and set the crooked star at the top of her tree.
Isaiah stood beneath it, his cast covered in signatures from family and friends. He had asked Odessa to sign first.
"What should I write?" she asked.
"You believed me."
Odessa blinked hard. Then she wrote: ALWAYS.
Malcolm made dinner with Renee. He burned the first pan of cornbread, and Isaiah laughed so hard he had to sit down. They made another batch.
At the table, Malcolm set Simone's repaired photograph beside the crooked star.
"I want to say something," he told everyone. "I spent a long time thinking providing things was the same as being here. I was wrong. Isaiah, I should have noticed what was happening. I'm going to do better, and you can hold me to it."
Isaiah looked at him. "Even when you're working?"
"Especially then."
They ate sweet potatoes and laughed over old stories. Nobody demanded that Isaiah perform happiness. When he grew quiet, Malcolm let him be quiet.
After dinner, the boy asked to hang the last ornament. It was a little wooden house Simone had painted by hand. On the back she had written: HOME IS WHO COMES BACK FOR YOU.
Malcolm lifted Isaiah carefully so he could reach the branch with his good hand.
The doorbell rang.
Andre checked the camera. A courier stood outside with a sealed envelope addressed to Malcolm. There was no return address.
Inside was a photograph of the night Simone died. It showed her car parked outside Loretta's house, apparently hours before the collision. A second car waited behind it.
Malcolm recognized the second car.
May you like
It belonged to his younger brother, Darius.
Darius had told the family he was in New Orleans that week.
