Chapter 6 - What Grandpa suspected
Grandpa never claimed murder.
That mattered.
He said it twice.
“I cannot prove Richard harmed Laura.”
Then:
“But I can prove he lied about why she died.”
Laura had discovered a scheme inside Donovan Industrial Supply.
Richard had created phantom vendors and routed company money through them.
At first, the amounts were small.
Then millions.
Laura worked in accounts payable.
She noticed.
She copied records.
Richard discovered she was asking questions.
Days later, she was fired.
Three weeks later, she died when her car left an icy road.
Police ruled it accidental.
Maybe it was.
But after her death, the files disappeared.
Grandpa believed Laura had hidden duplicates.
Richard believed she had given them to someone.
Possibly Grandpa.
Possibly someone else.
Then Grandpa said something I never expected.
“Richard adopted you because he thought Laura might have hidden evidence among your belongings.”
I stared at the screen.
Suddenly childhood memories changed shape.
Richard searching my bedroom.
Throwing away boxes.
Opening birthday cards before giving them to me.
Taking my old stuffed animals to “donate” without asking.
I had believed he disliked clutter.
Maybe he had been searching.
Grandpa discovered the financial theft years later.
By then, Richard had covered most of it.
Grandpa quietly restructured his estate.
The trust became both inheritance and trap.
He gave Richard limited administrative access.
Enough to tempt him.
Every transaction would be logged.
Every signature preserved.
If Richard stole from the trust, he would create new evidence.
I whispered:
“Grandpa used the money as bait.”
Michael answered quietly.
“It appears so.”
Then the final part of the video played.
“I left you far more than Richard will admit. But wealth can disappear. Evidence matters longer.”
Grandpa looked directly into the camera.
“If he gives you the blue debit card, keep it.”
My eyes filled.
“He knew.”
Michael nodded.
The scratched card I had nearly broken was not an insult from Grandpa.
It was a key.
Richard thought giving it to me would satisfy the will’s technical requirement.
Grandpa had anticipated that.
Then the video ended with one instruction.
Find Laura’s red ledger.
I had never seen a red ledger.
At least, I thought I hadn’t.
Then a memory surfaced.
A red book.
My mother’s handwriting.
I had been seven.
After her funeral, it disappeared.
May you like
I knew exactly who had taken the box containing it.
Susan.
