Chapter 6 - What He Remembered
By afternoon, my father had authorized Richard to help protect his personal accounts.
The foundation board met without him.
Two directors wanted to wait.
One said we should consider the damage a public dispute could do to donor confidence.
I looked into the laptop camera.
“My father collapsed beside a plate someone had tampered with. Someone forged my signature to move charitable funds. If your first concern is the annual gala, you’re in the wrong meeting.”
The treasurer called for a vote.
The remaining payments were frozen.
Martin Shaw’s authority was suspended pending review.
The records would go to outside counsel.
It wasn’t victory.
It was a locked door before someone reached the next room.
When the meeting ended, my father asked me to stay.
“I remember the appointment,” he said.
“The surgery?”
He nodded.
“Celeste brought the tablet that morning. She said it was insurance paperwork.”
“Before the procedure?”
“Before. I signed something.”
That complicated everything.
He could have approved one document before anesthesia, and someone could have applied the signature to another afterward.
Or he could have signed more than he remembered.
We needed records, not confidence.
“What else do you remember?”
He stared at his hands.
“She said you were planning to challenge my competence.”
I went still.
“What?”
“She said you were worried I’d give away your inheritance.”
“I never said that.”
“I know.”
“No, Dad. You know now.”
His mouth tightened.
“You’re right.”
For a while, the only sound was the monitor beside him.
Then he said, “I was lonely.”
I sat down.
“That’s not a crime.”
“I let it make me careless with people who loved me.”
I didn’t know how to answer.
My phone rang.
Bennett.
Officers had recovered the blue pill case and several medication containers from the house.
They had also found a packet of printed emails in Celeste’s desk.
The emails appeared to be between me and a private psychiatric practice.
I had never contacted the place.
“What do they say?” I asked.
Bennett paused.
“That you’ve become unstable. That you’re fixated on stopping the wedding.”
I looked through the glass at my father.
May you like
Celeste hadn’t just prepared to take his money.
She had prepared an explanation for anything I might say.
