Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE BACK OF THE DEED
Nobody moved.
Claire placed the document on the dining table.
The room felt suddenly colder.
I stared at Patrick's signature.
It looked real.
Too real.
The handwriting was nearly perfect.
But I knew my husband.
I had watched him sign birthday cards, checks, tax forms, grocery lists, and Christmas cards for almost fifty years.
Something was wrong.
"The date," I whispered.
Claire nodded.
"It was recorded six months after Patrick died."
Luke stepped closer.
"That's impossible."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because Dad was dead."
"Exactly."
Claire explained that someone had submitted a transfer document attempting to move the property into a company.
A company neither Luke nor Brenda recognized.
The transfer had been rejected because my lifetime lease had already been recorded.
"Who filed it?"
"That's what we're investigating."
I looked at Luke.
He looked genuinely shocked.
For the first time, I believed him.
"This wasn't me," he said.
I nodded.
"I believe you."
Brenda stared at the document.
"Then who?"
Claire turned it over.
"That's the interesting part."
There was a handwritten note on the back.
A phone number.
And a name.
Harold Mercer.
I didn't recognize it.
Luke did.
His face changed.
"Who is that?"
I asked.
Luke looked at me.
"My father's old business partner."
I had never met Harold.
Patrick had mentioned him years ago.
They had worked together at the factory.
After retirement, Harold had started a small property investment company.
"What does he want with our house?"
"I don't know."
Claire said, "We need to find out."
The next morning, we met Harold at a diner.
He was seventy-eight.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
He carried a cane but walked steadily.
When he saw me, he removed his hat.
"Margaret."
I nodded.
"Do you know why we're here?"
"Yes."
He sat down.
"I owe you an explanation."
Luke leaned forward.
"Did you forge my father's signature?"
Harold looked offended.
"No."
"Then why is your name on the document?"
"Because someone used my company."
Claire asked, "Who?"
Harold looked at Luke.
"Your son."
Luke's face went white.
"Me?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Harold took a breath.
"Your father's old accountant."
Luke frowned.
"Martin?"
Harold nodded.
"Martin Cole."
I remembered the name.
Patrick had mentioned him several times.
He handled paperwork for the business.
"Why would he do this?"
Harold looked at me.
"Because Patrick discovered something."
"What?"
"Martin had been moving money."
My heart tightened.
"How much?"
"Not much at first."
Harold paused.
"Over the years, it became significant."
Claire asked, "Was Patrick going to report him?"
"Yes."
"Then what happened?"
"Patrick died."
The table went silent.
Harold continued.
"Martin believed the investigation would end."
"But it didn't."
"No."
Harold looked at Luke.
"Because your father had left instructions."
"What instructions?"
"To me."
He reached into his coat.
He pulled out a small envelope.
My name was written across it.
I recognized Patrick's handwriting.
My hands trembled.
"Why did you wait?"
Harold looked ashamed.
"Because I was afraid."
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Patrick and Harold standing beside the house.
The photograph had been taken in 1974.
On the back, Patrick had written:
If anything happens to me, make sure Margaret knows the truth.
I looked at Harold.
"What truth?"
He swallowed.
"Your house wasn't the only thing Patrick was protecting."
He opened another envelope.
Inside were financial records.
Patrick had discovered that Martin was moving money from the business into accounts controlled by several people.
One account belonged to someone I knew.
Brenda.
She gasped.
"I never..."
Harold stopped her.
"The account was opened before you married Luke."
Brenda looked confused.
"What?"
"Your name was used."
She stared at him.
"I didn't open any account."
Claire examined the papers.
"Then someone used her identity."
Luke looked at Brenda.
"Who?"
Harold answered.
"Martin."
The room became silent.
Martin had been manipulating records for years.
He had used Brenda's identity to hide money.
He had used Patrick's signature to move property.
And after Patrick died, he had attempted to take the house.
But why?
Harold explained.
Martin had believed the house contained something valuable.
"Something inside the house?"
"Yes."
"What?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
I thought about the sewing room.
The old leather folder.
Patrick's workbench.
The watch.
The photographs.
Nothing.
Then Harold said:
"Patrick told me there was one thing he would never allow Martin to find."
"What?"
"A red notebook."
I stared at him.
"What notebook?"
"I don't know."
Harold leaned closer.
"Patrick said it contained the original records."
"Original records of what?"
"The business."
Claire asked, "Could those records prove Martin's fraud?"
"Yes."
"And perhaps explain the property transfer?"
"Yes."
I looked at Luke.
He was staring at the table.
Then Brenda spoke.
"I remember something."
We all turned.
She looked frightened.
"When I first moved into the house, I found a red notebook."
My heart stopped.
"Where?"
"In the garage."
"What did you do with it?"
"I gave it to Luke."
Luke looked at her.
"I never saw it."
"You did."
"No."
"You told me it was trash."
Luke shook his head.
"I don't remember."
Brenda's face tightened.
"It was three years ago."
"Where is it now?"
She looked at me.
"I don't know."
I stood.
"I do."
Everyone looked at me.
I suddenly remembered.
Patrick had once asked me to clean out a small metal toolbox.
Inside had been a red notebook.
I had thrown it into a box because I thought it was an old work log.
Then Patrick had taken it back.
He had smiled.
"Don't throw that away."
I had forgotten.
Until now.
I ran home.
We searched the attic.
Then the garage.
Then the basement.
Nothing.
Finally, Natalie remembered something.
"Grandma."
"What?"
"The sewing machine cabinet."
I froze.
Patrick had built it himself.
Nobody ever touched the bottom drawer.
We opened it.
Behind a stack of fabric was a red notebook.
My hands shook as I picked it up.
I opened the first page.
Numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
And one sentence written across the top:
If Martin ever tries to take the house, this book proves why he must fail.
Luke stared.
Claire slowly turned the page.
There were copies of checks.
Bank transfers.
Property records.
And then one final entry.
A name.
Martin Cole — $185,000.
May you like
Underneath it was a date.
The day before Patrick died.
