Chapter 3: The Paper Trail

Aunt Beatrice peered at the ledger, tracing a line with her finger. Her breath hitched.

“What is this, Eleanor?” she murmured, her voice losing its edge.

I pointed to a specific entry, written clearly in my mother’s hand: a withdrawal for $35,000. Next to it, a signature line.

“Look at the recipient, Beatrice,” I said, my voice quiet.

Beatrice leaned closer, her reading glasses perched on her nose. She gasped softly.

The transfer slip clearly stated the funds were moved into an account for “Bennett Auto Repairs.” Richard’s ill-fated auto shop, which had crashed and burned within two years of opening.

Richard’s face drained of color. He took a hesitant step toward the table, then stopped. His eyes darted between the ledger and Beatrice’s face.

“That… that was an investment,” Richard stammered, his voice tight. “An advance on my inheritance. Mom wanted me to have a head start.”

Beatrice slowly straightened up, her gaze now turning from the ledger to Richard. Her mouth was a thin, hard line.

“An advance?” she repeated, her voice low. “Richard, you told me Eleanor *stole* it.”

He shifted his weight, trying to avoid her stare. “It was just a misunderstanding, Aunt Bea. Eleanor’s always been good with numbers. We needed to keep the family story consistent.”

“Consistent?” Beatrice’s voice rose, a sharp edge returning. “You let me believe my own niece was a thief for years, Richard?”

Before Richard could craft another excuse, a loud scraping noise came from the back of the house. The back door, which led to the small mudroom and then the kitchen, suddenly creaked open.

Cousin David walked in, a large cardboard box tucked under one arm. A power drill swung from his other hand, bumping against his leg.

He paused, taking in the scene: the open safe, the ledger on the table, and the tension thick in the air.

“Alright, boys and girls,” David said, trying for a cheerful tone. “I got the new locks. Richard said we’re doing a full overhaul today.”