Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT MY MOTHER CALLED|
I did not sleep.
The photograph had been taken eleven years earlier, shortly before my mother died. She was wearing the cream coat she had loved, standing beside the side entrance of the mansion.
Margaret was behind her.
I enlarged the image.
The timestamp was 11:42 p.m.
My mother had died two days later after suffering a sudden medical emergency. At the time, the family had accepted the official explanation. She had been unwell for months, and no one questioned the conclusion that her death was natural.
But the message had reopened a door I had spent years trying to keep closed.
At eight the next morning, I called the hospital where my mother had been treated.
The records were archived, but Daniel managed to obtain the relevant medical documents through the proper legal process.
There was nothing immediately suspicious in the discharge notes.
Then we found a handwritten entry from a nurse.
Patient requested that daughter be contacted. Family member Margaret Brooks declined, stating daughter was traveling and unavailable.
I stared at the line.
"I was in New York."
Daniel checked the date.
"Your calendar confirms it."
"Why would Margaret tell the hospital I was unavailable?"
"We need to find out who was present."
The nurse had retired, but her contact information was still listed in an old employment file.
We called her.
Her name was Helen Carter. She agreed to meet us that afternoon.
She arrived carrying a small leather handbag and a memory that seemed to trouble her.
"I remember your mother," she said. "She was very clear about wanting to see you."
"Did she say why?"
"She was upset. She said there was something she needed to tell you about the estate."
My throat tightened.
"Did she mention Margaret?"
Helen looked down.
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"She said Margaret had been taking things that didn't belong to her."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Did you record that in the medical notes?"
"I wrote what I could. But the family member who was with her told the doctor she was confused."
"Who?"
"Margaret."
The nurse opened her handbag and removed a small envelope.
"I kept this because your mother asked me to make sure it reached you if anything happened."
Inside was a folded note.
Naomi,
If Margaret tells you I was confused, don't believe her. I have found evidence that she and someone else have been moving money out of the estate. I don't know how much. I only know that your father discovered it before he died, and I should have listened when he warned me.
The person helping her is closer to you than you think.
I read the final sentence several times.
Closer than I think.
I looked at Daniel.
"Who had access to the estate accounts eleven years ago?"
He began listing names.
My father.
Margaret.
Richard.
The former accountant.
And one other person.
Ethan.
But Ethan had not yet been appointed to the company when my mother died.
He had been a junior analyst at the time.
"Could he have had access?"
Daniel checked the old records.
"Not to the trust. But he was working in the finance department. He could have seen internal reports."
I thought about the forged document, the payments, and Margaret's insistence that Ethan should control everything.
"Find the person who sent the photograph."
Daniel nodded.
Before we left, Helen touched my arm.
"There's something I didn't tell you."
I turned.
"The night your mother died, Margaret asked me whether the hospital kept recordings from the private corridor."
My blood ran cold.
"Why?"
"She said she was worried someone might have misunderstood a conversation."
"What conversation?"
Helen shook her head.
"I never found out."
But when Daniel and I stepped outside, he received an email from the hospital archives.
There had been a security recording.
May you like
It was stored for legal review after an internal complaint.
And the file had never been deleted.
