Chapter 6 - The Friend Who Knew Too Much
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Maya Chen arrived at my house the following morning carrying two coffees and an expression I couldn't read.
She wore the same charcoal coat she'd owned for years.
Her black hair was twisted into a loose bun.
Normally, she greeted me with a hug.
This time, she stood just inside the doorway.
“You look exhausted.”
“I discovered my husband is cheating with a mafia boss's wife.”
Maya winced.
“Fair point.”
We went into the kitchen.
I placed the photograph of David's sticky note in front of her.
She stared at it.
“Why is my name on his desk?”
Maya slowly set down her coffee.
“David contacted me last month.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“About what?”
“He wanted help understanding a collection of financial records.”
“What records?”
“He wouldn't show me everything.”
“Maya.”
She looked up.
“He said you were becoming suspicious about some investments. He wanted to know whether certain transactions would attract an auditor's attention.”
I stared at her.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I thought it was a private disagreement between you two. Then I realized the company names were connected to something bigger.”
“What something?”
“Harbor Haven Foundation.”
I recognized the name.
Jack Thompson's charitable organization supported housing programs, waterfront workers, and community redevelopment projects.
Jennifer Thompson chaired its annual fundraising committee.
Maya continued.
“An accounting contact mentioned irregularities in the foundation's redevelopment grants. Money was being allocated, but contractors weren't receiving the expected payments.”
I took a breath.
“So David was using the foundation?”
“I don't know exactly what he was doing. But I suspect the invoices you found are part of the same pattern.”
I opened my laptop.
The records were stored in a folder named Garden Ideas.
Maya smiled faintly when she saw it.
“Still using that ridiculous folder name?”
“You suggested it.”
“Because David never looked at anything related to your hobbies.”
She was right.
Years earlier, when I began quietly saving money from my consulting work, Maya had jokingly suggested naming the spreadsheet after something David considered unimportant.
It had become our little private joke.
Now it was where I stored evidence against my husband.
I showed Maya the payment records.
She studied them carefully.
Then she pointed to a sequence of invoices.
“These three payments are structured strangely.”
“How?”
“Different companies, identical billing descriptions, almost identical timing.”
She highlighted the transactions.
“Someone wanted these payments to appear unrelated.”
I leaned closer.
“Can you trace them?”
“Not completely without lawful access to the receiving records. But I can help organize what you have for your attorney.”
I watched her work.
For years, Maya had been the person I trusted with everything.
My career disappointments.
My marriage problems.
Even the embarrassing truth that David sometimes made me feel foolish for wanting a professional life.
After twenty minutes, she stopped typing.
“Clare, did Jack Thompson see the originals?”
“No. Only copies.”
“Good.”
She closed the laptop.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don't give anyone the original files. Not David. Not Jennifer. Not even Jack.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
Maya's expression tightened.
“Because whoever designed these transactions knew exactly how financial investigations work.”
I felt a chill.
“What are you saying?”
May you like
She lowered her voice.
“I'm saying someone may be counting on you to uncover this.”
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