Chapter 11 - A Dead Woman's Vote
"Eleanor Givens," Graham read aloud. "Apartment sixteen."
June made a strangled sound. "Mrs. Givens taught me how to bake cornbread. She died in April."
The trustees turned toward her. Seven people sat around the table, some defensive, some simply bewildered. At its head, board chair Frances Benton pushed her glasses higher.
"How did a hotel employee get into this meeting?" she asked.
"Because the tenants weren't invited," June answered.
Vanessa swept in behind us. "This is unbelievable. They stole private records and now they're making up stories about a dead woman."
"Are you saying she's alive?" I asked.
Vanessa stared at me. "I'm saying you're not qualified to comment."
Frances studied the sheet. "The resident approval is a condition of the sale. If the signatures aren't valid, we can't proceed."
Colin Marsh, Homeward Key's finance director, leaned forward. "We verified them internally. One deceased resident is a clerical issue, not a reason to tank a desperately needed transaction."
"A vote from a dead person is not a typo," Graham said.
Vanessa's smile tightened. "Graham, sweetheart, you're letting a maid humiliate us in front of the board."
"You're the one who tried to kick her."
It landed harder than anything I'd said all night.
Frances tapped the agenda. "We will recess for ten minutes and review the objections."
"We don't have ten minutes," Colin said. "The buyer's offer expires with tonight's certification."
That was news. And bad news. Someone had made the deadline tight enough to force a decision without scrutiny.
Frances stood. "Then the buyer can wait or walk."
Colin slipped his phone beneath the table and began typing. I watched his reflection in the polished surface. One message, sent fast: THEY FOUND GIVENS.
May you like
An answer came almost immediately.
MOVE THE OTHER FILE BEFORE THEY GET TO IT.
