Chapter 7 - THE MAN IN THE OVERCOAT
Victor Sloan had worked for my father for twenty-three years.
He attended my mother’s funeral. He taught Juliette and me how to read a balance sheet. He sent flowers to my memorial service.
Three weeks ago, he had also toasted Juliette and Grant at their engagement dinner.
“He’s here,” Dad said.
Every head turned. Victor’s table was empty.
Grant swore under his breath.
Marcus was already moving toward the doors when his phone rang. He answered, listened, then stopped.
“What?” I asked.
“His car just left the underground garage.”
Dad looked sick. “Why would Victor run?”
“Because he recognized the photograph,” Marcus said.
Juliette stepped down from the altar. “You can’t blame Victor for everything because I made mistakes.”
“No one is trying to rescue you,” I said. “Sit down.”
Her mouth tightened, but she did.
Marcus explained what he had found after reopening the old fire files privately. Four weeks before the estate burned, Victor had approved a restructuring of my mother’s trust. The draft shifted voting control if one beneficiary died.
“That beneficiary was me,” I said.
“Yes.”
Grant looked at Juliette. “And you knew about the restructuring?”
“I knew there were documents.”
“You were arguing over them.”
“I thought Caroline was accusing me of stealing.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
Marcus tapped the table. “Not then.”
Grant recoiled.
Dad pressed both hands against his temples. “Why would Victor want Caroline dead?”
“Because she found a transfer schedule hidden behind the trust amendment.”
I remembered paper shaking in my hand. Columns of numbers. Shell companies I did not recognize.
“Money was missing,” I whispered.
Marcus nodded. “Thirty-one million dollars over six years.”
Dad stared at him.
“Victor was stealing from us?”
“Someone was.”
The ballroom doors opened again.
This time two uniformed officers entered with a hotel security manager.
The manager walked straight to Marcus and handed him a small plastic bag.
Inside was a phone.
“Mr. Sloan dropped this near the service elevator,” he said.
The screen was cracked, but still lit.
One message sat open.
May you like
BURN THE ARCHIVE BEFORE SHE GETS THERE.
And the recipient was someone inside my family company.
