Chapter 7 - The Uncle Who Arrived Too Quickly

Vincent Crowe arrived at the penthouse at 12:52 a.m.

He should not have known we were still there.

He should not have known the ballroom doors were unlocked.

He should not have known Damian had not left for Crowe House.

But he walked in smiling.

Sixty-one.

Gray hair.

Dark overcoat.

No bodyguards.

“Damian.”

Nobody answered.

Vincent saw Evelyn.

The smile disappeared.

For nineteen years, he had prepared for ghosts.

Apparently not this one.

“Evelyn.”

She looked at him.

“Vincent.”

Damian stood between them.

“My girlfriend is being held at Crowe House.”

Vincent frowned.

“What?”

“Interesting.”

“What is?”

“You arrived three minutes after my security system traced a surveillance upload to your attorney’s building.”

Vincent looked toward the hidden camera.

He recovered quickly.

“I came because Carlo called me.”

Carlo stared.

“No, I didn’t.”

Vincent sighed.

“Carlo, please.”

Damian took out his phone.

“Show me the call.”

Vincent smiled sadly.

“You think this is a courtroom?”

Mr. Harrow stepped forward.

“No.”

He adjusted his cuffs.

“But I spent fifty-six years in them.”

Vincent looked at him.

“You should have stayed retired.”

“And you should have learned that forged wills age badly.”

Vincent’s face hardened.

Damian held up the fake estate documents.

“You drafted these.”

“My attorney did.”

“For Bianca.”

“At your request.”

“No.”

Vincent looked surprised.

Damian continued.

“I had my office search every message, memo, and authorization I sent concerning estate amendments.”

He dropped the papers on the table.

“There isn’t one.”

Vincent looked at Carlo.

Carlo stepped away from him.

For the first time, they looked like enemies.

Vincent turned to Evelyn.

“So this is your work.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Then looked at me.

“Hers.”

Vincent finally noticed the maid standing beside the fountain.

Me.

His expression almost became insulting.

Damian saw that too.

“Elena noticed the camera.”

Vincent’s eyes moved upward.

A mistake.

A small one.

But enough.

Damian said:

“You knew exactly where it was.”

Vincent looked back at him.

“I followed your eyes.”

“No.”

I spoke before I could stop myself.

“You looked at it before he did.”

The room went still.

Vincent studied me.

“Who are you?”

“Elena Moore.”

“The maid.”

“Yes.”

He smiled.

“Then perhaps return to the kitchen.”

Damian’s voice turned cold.

“She stays.”

Vincent’s smile vanished.

A phone rang.

Damian answered.

The investigator.

He listened.

Then looked at Vincent.

“Bianca has been found.”

Carlo moved forward.

“Alive?”

Damian nodded.

Carlo closed his eyes.

“Where?”

“Crowe House.”

Vincent spread his hands.

“Then the crisis is over.”

“No.”

Damian continued listening.

His eyes narrowed.

“They found two men with her.”

Vincent said nothing.

“Neither was you.”

“Of course not.”

“But one works for your attorney.”

That landed.

Vincent turned toward the doors.

Security blocked them.

Mr. Harrow said:

“I would sit down.”

Vincent looked at Damian.

“You’re detaining me?”

“I’m asking you not to leave my home while federal investigators are on their way.”

“That sounds like detention.”

“Then call your lawyer.”

Vincent almost laughed.

“I believe you just did.”

Damian nodded toward the traced office.

The humor left Vincent’s face.

Evelyn stepped closer.

“Where is the original ledger?”

“I have no idea.”

“You emptied the deposit box.”

“No.”

“You used my authorization card.”

“No.”

Bianca’s voice came from the doorway.

“Yes.”

Everyone turned.

She stood between two federal agents.

The red gown was torn at one shoulder.

Her hair had fallen loose.

She looked exhausted.

But she was standing.

Carlo crossed the room.

She stopped him with one hand.

“Not yet.”

His face broke.

“Bianca—”

“Not yet.”

She looked at Vincent.

“You sent me to Crowe House.”

Vincent shook his head.

“You’re frightened.”

“You told me my mother hid her copy there.”

“I told you what Carlo believed.”

“You gave me the keycard.”

“Because you asked.”

“You told your attorney’s men to follow me.”

Vincent’s eyes shifted toward the agents.

Bianca saw it.

“So you do know them.”

He said nothing.

Damian looked at her.

“Where is the ledger?”

Bianca held up a leather book.

The same one from the photograph.

Carlo nearly collapsed.

Evelyn stepped forward.

“May I?”

Bianca handed it to her.

Evelyn opened the first page.

Then the second.

Her face changed.

“This isn’t it.”

Bianca stared.

“What?”

“This is Sofia’s copy.”

Carlo whispered:

“That is the one we need.”

“No.”

Evelyn turned several pages.

“It proves transfers.”

Mr. Harrow looked closer.

“But no signatures.”

Evelyn nodded.

“The original ledger had handwritten approvals.”

Damian looked at Vincent.

“Yours?”

Vincent smiled again.

“You still don’t have it.”

That was confirmation without confession.

Bianca stared at him.

Then suddenly looked at her father.

Carlo understood before any of us.

“No.”

Bianca’s voice was barely audible.

“You have it.”

Carlo stepped back.

“Bianca.”

“You never gave Vincent the original.”

No one moved.

She looked at the copy in Evelyn’s hands.

“My mother made this because you already had the real one.”

Carlo’s face emptied.

Damian walked toward him.

“Where is it?”

Carlo shook his head.

Mr. Harrow said:

“Carlo.”

He closed his eyes.

Then reached inside his jacket.

Security moved.

Carlo raised both hands.

Slowly, he removed a small silver key.

Not the brass deposit-box key.

A newer one.

Bianca stared at it.

“What does that open?”

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Carlo looked at her.

“Your mother’s grave.”