Chapter 9: The Reckoning
Detective Carla Reyes arrived at two in the afternoon with a colleague and a forensic accountant from the financial crimes unit.
Maya had called them that morning, before Julian came home.
The preservation order had already been shared.
The documentation was already waiting.
Victoria called her attorney from the kitchen table.
He told her not to say anything further.
She didn't.
Julian sat in the living room with his hands clasped between his knees.
He hadn't spoken since Arthur had asked for the police to be called.
I sat across from him while Maya walked the detectives through the documents in the kitchen.
"I didn't know about the first transfer," he said finally.
"I know," I said.
He looked up.
"The IP record puts Victoria at the source of that one," I said.
"Not you.
She accessed my firm's account and moved the money before Diane ever contacted you.
I think she was testing the system.
Making sure the forgery worked before she needed it to."
"She told me Diane was alive," Julian said.
"Three months before the letter came.
She said Diane had reached out to her.
That Diane was in trouble and needed help but that I shouldn't tell Arthur because it would upset him." He exhaled.
"She told me the money had to come from your firm's account because Arthur's accounts were being audited.
That it would only be temporary.
That you'd agreed to it."
"She told you I agreed."
"Yes."
I let that sit between us for a moment.
"And you didn't ask me," I said.
"She said you were busy.
That you'd already signed off." He pressed his hands flat on his knees.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like you trusted her more than you trusted me."
He didn't argue with it.
"Julian." I leaned forward.
"Did you know about the incompetency filing?"
"No." His voice was immediate.
Certain.
"No.
I would never — Arthur is — no."
I believed him.
That was the worst part, in some ways.
He had been used as thoroughly as I had, just from a different angle.
Victoria had handed him a story about a victimized mother and a temporary financial arrangement, and he had accepted it because he wanted to believe his mother was alive and needed him.
She had known exactly which door to open.
In the kitchen, I heard Detective Reyes ask Maya a question about the Portland bank footage.
Maya's answer was calm and detailed.
"What happens now?" Julian asked.
"That depends on what you tell them," I said.
"Everything you know — the letter, what Victoria told you, the transfers you authorized — you need to give them all of it.
Voluntarily.
Before they have to ask."
"And Diane?"
"Diane received stolen money.
Whether she knew where it came from is something they'll have to establish." I paused.
"But she's not the one who forged my signature.
She's not the one who dr*gged Arthur.
She's not the one who filed to have him declared incompetent."
Julian nodded slowly.
He stood up, straightened his jacket, and walked into the kitchen.
I heard him say: "I'd like to make a statement."
I stayed in the living room.
Arthur was in the armchair by the window — the one he always preferred because it caught the afternoon light.
He was watching the street outside with the patient attention of a man who has learned that most things eventually pass.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"I've been better," he said.
"I've also been considerably worse." He glanced at me.
"You didn't have to stay.
When Maya told you to leave, you could have left."
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
I thought about it honestly.
"Because they'd already decided what I was," I said.
"The negligent daughter-in-law.
The distracted professional who wouldn't notice.
I didn't want to be what they'd decided I was."
Arthur was quiet for a moment.
"Diane was not a good person," he said.
"But I did love her.
That part was true, whatever else was." He looked out the window again.
"Victoria was not wrong that I couldn't have borne the public humiliation.
She was wrong to use that knowledge the way she did."
"Yes," I said.
"She was protecting the estate," he said.
"And then she was protecting her position in it.
And then she was protecting herself from the consequences of protecting herself." He shook his head slightly.
"It is remarkable how far a person can travel from their original intention."
Detective Reyes appeared in the doorway.
"Mrs.
Hale?
I have a few questions for you when you're ready."
I stood up.
Arthur reached out and briefly covered my hand with his — the same grip that had stopped me cold when I'd first opened that door.
Firm.
Deliberate.
May you like
"Thank you," he said.
"For not calling the ambulance first."
