Chapter 3 - THE POLICY WITH MY NAME ON IT
Helen arrived at my apartment the next morning.
She had been my friend for almost thirty years.
We met when we both worked in the same office building.
She had been a receptionist.
I had been cleaning the executive offices.
Over time, we became friends.
Helen eventually left administrative work and became a licensed insurance broker.
When I placed the policy in front of her, she didn't touch it immediately.
She read the first page.
Then the second.
Then she looked at me.
“Where did you get this?”
“Christopher's papers.”
“Does he know you have it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
She pointed to the beneficiary section.
“You are the primary beneficiary.”
“Yes.”
“And Brenda is the contingent beneficiary.”
I felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
“If Christopher dies, the money goes to you first. If you aren't alive, it goes to Brenda.”
I stared at the page.
“How much?”
Helen looked at the number.
“Two million dollars.”
I sat down.
Two million dollars.
My son had never mentioned a two-million-dollar life insurance policy.
Helen continued.
“The strange part is the timing.”
“What about it?”
“This policy was issued eighteen months ago.”
“That was before things got bad.”
Helen looked at me.
“Exactly.”
I remembered.
Eighteen months earlier, Brenda had suddenly become unusually friendly.
She had invited me to dinner.
She asked about my health.
She even bought me a birthday gift.
At the time, I thought she had finally decided to make peace.
Now I wondered whether she had simply been measuring how long I might live.
I felt sick.
“Can you find out who purchased it?”
Helen nodded.
“I can check the policy history.”
She entered several details into her computer.
A few minutes passed.
Then she frowned.
“Margaret.”
“What?”
“This policy wasn't purchased directly by Christopher.”
I stared at her.
“Who purchased it?”
“A company.”
“What company?”
She turned the screen toward me.
“Callahan Engineering Consulting LLC.”
My son's company.
I felt a chill move through my body.
Christopher had started the company five years earlier.
He had built it from almost nothing.
At least, that's what I believed.
Helen continued reading.
“The company is paying the premiums.”
“Can a company insure its owner?”
“Yes, under certain circumstances.”
“Then what's wrong?”
She looked at me.
“Nothing necessarily.”
“But?”
“But the policy amount is unusually high.”
“How unusual?”
“For a small consulting company, two million dollars on a single employee is significant.”
“Christopher is the owner.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at the policy.
“Maybe it's legitimate.”
“It could be.”
I exhaled.
“Then why am I afraid?”
Helen didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
I knew.
Because Brenda had just tried to steal twenty-five thousand dollars from me.
Because her parents were openly discussing my future inheritance.
Because Brenda had spent years trying to isolate Christopher from me.
And because somebody had just warned me to investigate his company.
Helen closed the folder.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“The policy has a rider.”
“What kind?”
“Accelerated death benefit.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It allows certain benefits to be accessed before death if the insured is diagnosed with a qualifying terminal condition.”
I stared at her.
“Christopher isn't sick.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Helen looked uncomfortable.
“Someone anticipated the possibility.”
I stood.
“We need to find out what.”
That afternoon, I drove to Christopher's office.
I had never visited without calling first.
The receptionist recognized me.
“Mrs. Callahan.”
“Is Christopher here?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don't know.”
I looked around.
The office was smaller than I remembered.
There were only six employees.
Two desks sat empty.
A stack of unopened mail covered one table.
Something was wrong.
I asked to speak to the office manager.
A young woman named Emily came out.
She looked nervous.
“Can I help you?”
“I'm Christopher's mother.”
“I know.”
“I have a question.”
She swallowed.
“What kind?”
“Is the company having financial problems?”
Her eyes moved toward the hallway.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because I'm his mother.”
She lowered her voice.
“You didn't hear this from me.”
I nodded.
She whispered,
“The company has been losing money for months.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Who handles the finances?”
“Brenda.”
I froze.
“Brenda?”
Emily nodded.
“She started overseeing the accounts about a year ago.”
“Why?”
“Christopher said she was helping.”
I remembered Brenda telling me she was “just helping her husband organize paperwork.”
I hadn't thought much about it.
Now I did.
Emily continued.
“Some invoices don't make sense.”
“What kind?”
“Payments to companies we've never heard of.”
“Names?”
She hesitated.
Then she pulled a piece of paper from her desk.
“Here.”
Three names.
Three companies.
All registered in Delaware.
All with addresses that looked like mailbox services.
I copied them into my phone.
Then Emily whispered,
“There was another thing.”
“What?”
“Christopher argued with Brenda last week.”
“About what?”
“An account.”
“Which account?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
She looked frightened.
“He said, ‘If you move another dollar, I'm going to the police.’”
My heart stopped.
“What did Brenda say?”
Emily shook her head.
“I wasn't supposed to hear.”
I leaned closer.
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Then I'll make sure your mother pays for it.’”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
She threatened me?
Emily nodded.
I thanked her and left.
Outside, I sat in my car for ten minutes.
I wanted to call Christopher.
But Helen's warning echoed in my mind.
Don't warn him until you have proof.
I opened my phone.
The anonymous number had sent another message.
I HAVE THE RECORDS.
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed a bank statement.
Christopher's company.
A transfer.
$75,000.
Recipient: WALTER BENSON.
I stared.
Walter.
Brenda's father.
Then another transfer.
$40,000.
Then another.
$90,000.
All to companies connected to Walter.
My hands began shaking.
I forwarded the photographs to Helen.
She called immediately.
“Margaret.”
“Yes?”
“These transactions could be fraud.”
“I know.”
“Do not confront Brenda.”
“I won't.”
“Do not confront Walter.”
“I won't.”
“And do not tell Christopher yet.”
I closed my eyes.
“But he's my son.”
“I know.”
“Someone is stealing from him.”
“I know.”
“Then why should I stay silent?”
“Because if Brenda has access to the company accounts, she may destroy evidence the moment she knows you are investigating.”
I understood.
I had spent my life watching people.
Now someone was watching me.
That evening, Christopher called.
“Mom?”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry about yesterday.”
“So am I.”
“Brenda wants to apologize.”
I almost laughed.
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
“Is she with you?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
Then he said,
“Mom, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did you take the recorder to an attorney?”
My heart stopped.
“How did you know?”
“I found one of the copies.”
I froze.
“What copy?”
“I'll explain.”
His voice dropped.
“But you need to trust me.”
I looked toward my apartment door.
“Christopher…”
“Mom, someone is trying to destroy my company.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“What do you know?”
“More than you think.”
He whispered,
“Then we need to meet.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Where?”
“The old office building where you used to work.”
I knew exactly where he meant.
The building had been demolished five years ago.
The lot was empty.
“Why there?”
“Because nobody will think to look for us.”
I felt a chill.
“Christopher.”
“Yes?”
“Are you in danger?”
He didn't answer.
Then he said,
“Mom, if anything happens to me…”
I interrupted.
“Don't say that.”
“Listen.”
“No.”
“Please.”
I closed my eyes.
He whispered,
“Don't trust Brenda.”
The call ended.
I sat alone in my apartment.
Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.
They stopped outside my door.
Someone stood there.
I held my breath.
A shadow moved beneath the doorway.
Then something slid across the floor.
An envelope.
No name.
No return address.
I waited until the footsteps disappeared.
Then I opened the door.
The envelope contained one photograph.
Christopher standing outside his office.
Taken that morning.
May you like
On the back were four words.
HE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
