Chapter 10 - Marjorie Had Been Listening at the DoorMarjorie Sloan agreed to meet only after Bethany promised police would not be present.
Rebecca disliked the condition.
Bethany accepted it strategically.
“You don’t have to like every doorway that gets us truth.”
They met in a private conference room.
Marjorie entered carrying a handbag in both hands.
Sixty-one.
Gray hair.
Careful clothing.
She had worked for Harold twelve years.
Rebecca remembered her arranging medications.
Opening curtains.
Managing household staff.
Holding Harold’s hand at the funeral.
“Why do you work for Miles now?”
Marjorie looked uncomfortable.
“He offered me a job.”
“After Dad died.”
“Yes.”
“How soon?”
“Three weeks.”
Rebecca stared.
“That didn’t seem strange?”
“I needed work.”
Fair.
Harold’s house had been sold.
Still.
“Did you tell Miles about the second will?”
Marjorie’s face drained.
Rebecca had her answer.
“Why?”
“He asked.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
Marjorie looked down.
“Your father had become secretive.”
“With good reason.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“What did you know?”
“I knew Daniel Mercer visited.”
“Did Miles ask who visited?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The same evening.”
Rebecca felt anger.
Miles had someone watching Harold’s house.
Or Marjorie reported routinely.
“Why did you tell him?”
“Because Mr. Carrow was your father’s attorney.”
There.
Authority.
Habit.
She assumed the lawyer should know.
“What else?”
“He asked how long Daniel stayed.”
“What rooms they used.”
“Who else was present.”
Rebecca stared.
“Did you tell him Denise signed something?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was a will?”
“No.”
“Did you see Dad sign?”
“No.”
“Did you enter the room?”
“No.”
Marjorie began crying.
“I thought I was helping.”
Rebecca wanted to say everyone did.
She didn’t.
“What happened January twenty-nine?”
Marjorie looked confused.
“Daniel’s office was broken into.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What happened at Dad’s house?”
She thought.
“Miles came.”
Rebecca stopped.
“Dad let him in?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I did.”
Rebecca’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“He said Harold asked him to come.”
“Did he?”
“Your father was sleeping.”
“Then why not wake him?”
“Miles said not to.”
Rebecca stood.
“What did Miles do?”
Marjorie cried harder.
“He went into the study.”
“How long?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did he remove anything?”
“I didn’t see.”
“You let a lawyer into my dying father’s private study while he slept because the lawyer told you it was fine?”
Marjorie looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Bethany interrupted before Rebecca could continue.
“Did Miles ask you to keep the visit secret?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said Harold was paranoid and would misunderstand.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
Classic.
The person being deceived becomes unreliable in advance.
“Did Dad discover the visit?”
“I think so.”
“How?”
“The next morning he asked whether anyone had been in the study.”
“What did you say?”
Marjorie covered her face.
“No.”
Rebecca stared.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was scared.”
Again.
Fear.
Rebecca sat slowly.
Harold recorded that someone in his house told Miles.
Marjorie had.
Then Miles entered Harold’s study.
Possibly searched for the will.
“What did Miles give you after Dad died?”
Marjorie froze.
“Nothing.”
“That was too fast.”
“I got severance.”
“From the estate?”
“Yes.”
Bethany asked:
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
“Anything from Carrow?”
Marjorie said nothing.
Rebecca waited.
“Marjorie.”
“Ten.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Relocation.”
“Why would your father’s lawyer personally pay you to relocate?”
No answer.
Bethany wrote it down.
Then Marjorie whispered:
“He also paid my son’s debt.”
Rebecca looked up.
“How much?”
“Forty-six thousand.”
“What debt?”
“Gambling.”
There it was.
Leverage.
Miles did not always threaten.
Sometimes he rescued first.
Then collected.
“What did he ask in return?”
Marjorie’s eyes filled.
“Information.”
“About Dad.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“After Harold died, he asked me to search for a black bag.”
Rebecca stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He thought Harold had hidden one.”
“The bank bag.”
“I guess.”
“Did he know where?”
“No.”
“So he never found it.”
“No.”
“Did you tell him Priscilla might know?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca thought of Miles’s later pressure on Priscilla.
Marjorie created another pathway.
Bethany asked:
“Do you know Denise Rowe?”
“Yes.”
“Did you speak with her January twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”
Marjorie hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She was frightened.”
“About?”
“She said Miles had gone too far.”
“Did she mention money?”
“Yes.”
“Did she mention Aaron?”
Marjorie looked surprised.
“You know about him.”
“Yes.”
“She said she needed to get him out of the country.”
Rebecca’s heart tightened.
“Did she?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Marjorie added:
“She gave me something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
Marjorie opened her handbag.
Pulled out a tiny brass key.
“I kept it.”
“For eleven months?”
“She told me if anyone asked, I didn’t have it.”
“Who was supposed to ask?”
“Harold.”
Rebecca stared.
“He died the next day.”
“Yes.”
“Then why not give it to us?”
Marjorie’s voice broke.
“Because I was already lying.”
One lie made the next easier.
Rebecca understood the machinery now.
Not one brilliant conspiracy.
A network of people each hiding one compromise.
Miles only needed to keep them isolated.
Bethany examined the key.
Small engraved number:
A bank key.
But not Fairfield National.
Logo:
Connecticut Heritage Storage.
Rebecca’s pulse accelerated.
They contacted the company.
Private secure boxes.
Number 442 was registered to—
Aaron Rowe.
Denise’s son.
The box had not been accessed in eleven months.
Rebecca looked at Marjorie.
“What did Denise hide?”
Marjorie shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Police obtained a warrant.
Inside box 442, they found no money.
No jewelry.
One laptop.
Three external drives.
And a handwritten ledger.
The first page contained dozens of family names.
Trusts.
Amounts.
Dates.
At the bottom, in Denise’s handwriting:
IF YOU’RE READING THIS, MILES HAS ALREADY STARTED SAYING I DID IT ALONE.
Rebecca turned the page.
Ethan Bennett’s name appeared seventeen times.
But so did Harold’s.
One entry was underlined twice.
HAROLD — $2.4M RESTORED. HE KNOWS.
Beside it:
MILES SAYS WE HAVE 21 DAYS BEFORE HE GOES PUBLIC.
Harold died nineteen days later.
May you like
Natural causes, according to every medical record Rebecca knew.
For the first time, she wondered whether she could still trust even that.
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