Chapter 3 - The Paper Trail of Greed
The interview room at the Bell Creek station was small, painted a depressing shade of government beige, and dominated by a scarred laminate table bolted to the floor. Danny was sitting with his head in his hands, wearing a gray sweatshirt that had water stains down the back from the rain. He looked up when the heavy door clicked shut behind me.
“Nell,” he breathed, half-rising from his chair before the heavy clink of his belly-chain pulled him back down. They had him in transport restraints. “Thank God. You’ve got to talk to Miller. Tell him this is all a massive misunderstanding between family. We can handle this internally. Mom doesn’t want this.”
I didn't sit down. I stood against the door, crossing my arms, staring at the man who had shared my childhood kitchen, who had taught me how to cast a spinner for bass on the creek, and who had just watched his wife break our mother’s ribs.
“She has two fractured ribs, Danny,” I said, each word deliberate and ice-cold. “And a cracked ulna. She’s in the hospital right now having her arm cast in plaster. What part of that is a misunderstanding?”
Danny swallowed hard. His face looked pasty, the skin under his eyes bruised with fatigue and terror. “Leah lost her temper. You know how she gets when she feels cornered. She’s under enormous pressure, Nell. Her father’s firm is auditing the accounts, and we had that mess with the site subcontractors—it’s just been a pressure cooker for months.”
“So you gave her a bat?”
“No! I swear to God, Nell, no!” He leaned forward, rattling the chain against the steel table. “The bat was in the hallway closet. Mom came out of her bedroom because we were arguing in the kitchen. Leah was trying to get her to look at the paperwork, and Mom slapped the papers out of her hand. That’s all Mom did! Just knocked the papers away. And Leah just... she snapped. She grabbed the bat from the umbrella stand by the coat rack.”
“And you stood there,” I said.
Danny’s eyes shifted away from mine, unable to hold my gaze for more than a second. “I froze. I swear, my mind went totally blank. It happened in three seconds. One swing, and Mom went down against the pantry shelves. Then Leah dropped the bat and started crying. She said if the cops came, they’d throw her in jail and take everything, and she begged me to help her. What was I supposed to do? She’s my wife!”
“She’s a monster,” I said. “And you’re a coward. You let those officers put our mother—the woman who took an extra shift at the bakery for four years so you could pay off your state college tuition—into the back of a cruiser in her nightgown while you put the weapon in your truck.”
“We were going to throw it in the reservoir,” Danny whispered, burying his face in his cuffed hands. “Leah said without the bat, it was just her word against Mom’s, and Richard could get any charges thrown out by sunrise. She had it all planned out. She’s been planning it for weeks.”
“Who drafted the warranty deed, Danny?”
He went completely still. His shoulders locked up. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes widening. “How do you know about that?”
“Detective Miller checked the county registrar’s database,” I said. “You weren't trying to borrow eighty thousand dollars against the house. You were trying to steal the whole property so you could take out a six-hundred-thousand-dollar jumbo mortgage to pay off your construction liens.”
“It wasn't my idea!” Danny pleaded, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his cheeks. “Richard told Leah that if our house went to foreclosure, it would destroy the family firm’s credit rating. Leah’s name is on the partnership papers. Richard said we had to find an unencumbered asset to pledge as collateral before the sheriff’s sale notice was published in the paper this Friday. He gave Leah the documents! He told her, ‘Get Evelyn to sign this week, or don’t come home for Thanksgiving.’”
The door behind me swung open with sudden force.
Richard Finch stood in the doorway. He was fifty-eight, wearing a cashmere overcoat over a tailored suit, his silver hair perfectly styled even at four-thirty in the morning. Behind him stood Martin Hayes, the most expensive criminal defense lawyer in Bell Creek County.
“That’s enough,” Hayes said smoothly, stepping between me and Danny. “This interview is terminated immediately. Officer, remove this woman from the room. My client has invoked his right to silence, and you are conducting an unlawful interrogation without counsel present.”
“She’s my sister!” Danny shouted.
“Shut your mouth, Danny,” Richard Finch commanded, his voice dripping with icy authority. He didn't even look at his son-in-law; he looked at me with cold, aristocratic disdain. “Nell, isn't it? Take my advice and go home to your apartment. You’re meddling in financial matters that you don’t have the sophistication to understand. This is a private civil dispute between spouses and family members that got slightly out of hand.”
“Your daughter shattered my mother’s arm with an aluminum bat, Mr. Finch,” I said, holding his gaze without blinking. “That isn't a civil dispute. That’s a Class B felony in this state, carrying up to fifteen years in the state penitentiary. And if Detective Miller finds your signature or your notary stamp on that fraudulent deed, you’re going to be sharing a cell with her as an accessory before the fact.”
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Richard’s aristocratic veneer cracked for a fraction of a second. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We’ll see what the district attorney says when he reads the complete case file. Martin, get the magistrate on the phone. We’re posting bond the minute the docket opens.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, brushing past Hayes into the corridor. “I’m on my way back to Mom’s house right now with a police escort to collect her belongings. If you or your daughter set one foot on that property, I’ll have the county sheriff execute an immediate trespass warrant.”