Chapter 7: My Father's Name Was on the Investigation
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Detective Harris placed the document on our dining table and turned it so Dad could read it.
His name appeared at the top.
DAVID BENNETT.
Beneath it was a list of financial transactions, corporate account references, and dates.
Dad stared at the page.
"Where did you get this?""
"During our preliminary review of the trust transactions," Detective Harris replied.
"We discovered several transfers connected to an account associated with your former business partner, Richard Coleman.""
Dad shook his head.
"Richard hasn't worked with me in five years.""
"That's what we were told.""
"Then why is my name on this?""
Detective Harris opened her folder.
"Because the account was originally established under a company you jointly operated.""
Dad leaned forward.
"That company was dissolved.""
"According to the records we have, the business was restructured rather than completely dissolved.""
I looked at my father.
"What's happening?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Richard and I started Bennett-Coleman Development almost twenty years ago. We built commercial properties, apartment complexes, and several residential communities.""
"Why did you stop working together?""
Dad hesitated.
"Because I discovered irregularities in the company's accounts. Money was being transferred without proper authorization. I confronted Richard, and we eventually separated our business interests.""
Detective Harris nodded.
"Did you report those irregularities?""
"Yes. Our attorneys handled the dispute. I believed everything had been settled.""
"Did you know Patricia was meeting him?""
"No.""
The detective looked at me.
"Amara, did you ever hear Patricia mention Richard Coleman?""
I shook my head.
"Not until today.""
"Did she ever discuss your father's business affairs with you?""
"Sometimes she complained about money. She said Dad was too generous with me, but she never mentioned Richard.""
Detective Harris wrote something down.
Then she asked Dad another question.
"Did Patricia have access to your business correspondence?""
Dad looked uncomfortable.
"She occasionally helped organize paperwork at home.""
"Did she have access to your email?""
"She knew the password to the family computer.""
The detective nodded.
"That may become relevant.""
I looked at the photograph again.
Patricia stood outside the bank, wearing a cream-colored coat.
Richard stood beside her.
They weren't arguing.
They weren't being forced into a meeting.
They looked comfortable.
Like people who had met many times before.
I pointed at the photograph.
"When was this taken?""
"Three weeks ago," Detective Harris answered.
Three weeks.
That was before the fire.
Before my graduation gown was destroyed.
Before I discovered the trust documents.
My father stared at the photograph.
"Why would she be meeting him?""
Detective Harris closed her folder.
"That's what we're trying to establish. I would like to speak with both Patricia and Monique. Separately.""
Dad nodded.
"They're upstairs.""
The detective stood.
"Please don't confront either of them about this until we've spoken.""
Dad gave a short nod.
But before she could leave the dining room, I asked something that had been bothering me.
"Detective Harris, is my father under investigation?""
She looked at me carefully.
"At this stage, we're examining the records. Your father's name appears in connection with a business account, but that doesn't establish wrongdoing.""
Dad reached for my hand.
"You're okay, sweetheart.""
I wasn't sure I believed him.
The detective went upstairs.
A few minutes later, I heard her knock on Patricia's bedroom door.
"Mrs. Bennett? I'd like to speak with you.""
Patricia answered sharply.
"What is this about?""
"Some financial documents.""
There was a pause.
Then the door opened.
I looked at Dad.
He was standing beside the dining table, staring at the wall.
"Did you know about the company?"" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No.""
"Did you know Richard was still involved?""
"No.""
I wanted to believe him.
But the document with his name had made everything feel uncertain.
"Why would Patricia use your business account?""
Dad pulled out a chair.
"I don't know, Amara.""
He looked older than he had that morning.
"I thought the worst thing happening in this house was the way Patricia treated you. I never imagined there was something like this behind it.""
Upstairs, the detective's voice became audible.
"Mrs. Bennett, have you met Richard Coleman recently?""
Silence.
Then Patricia answered.
"I know several people named Richard.""
Detective Harris remained calm.
"This photograph shows you meeting him outside a bank on October ninth.""
Another silence.
"That's a private matter.""
"Was the meeting connected to Amara's trust?""
"No.""
"Was it connected to Bennett-Coleman Development?""
Patricia didn't answer.
Dad closed his eyes.
I could hear the anger building in his breathing.
Then the detective asked:
"Mrs. Bennett, why did you tell the trust company that Amara had agreed to surrender her inheritance?""
Patricia's voice rose.
"I was trying to protect this family!""
I looked at Dad.
He whispered, "There it is.""
The conversation continued for several minutes.
Then the detective came downstairs.
"Mr. Bennett, I need you to review something.""
She handed him a printed statement.
Dad read it.
His hands began trembling.
"What is this?""
"It's a preliminary record of a transfer from an account associated with your former business to a private company controlled by Richard Coleman.""
Dad looked up.
"When?""
"Five years ago.""
"That's the transfer I reported.""
"Yes.""
She pointed to another line.
"But the funds were later moved through a second company.""
Dad looked at the name.
His expression changed.
It was Patricia's property management company.
The same company connected to the disputed $72,000 transfer from my mother's trust.
I felt my stomach twist.
"She used the company to move the money?""
Detective Harris nodded.
"That's one possibility we're examining.""
Dad stood.
"I want to speak to Patricia.""
"Please don't.""
"She's my wife.""
"And this is now an active investigation. I need you to let us handle the interviews.""
He slowly sat back down.
The detective went upstairs again.
This time, Patricia came down with her handbag.
Her face was flushed.
She looked at Dad.
"You're allowing this?""
He didn't answer.
She looked at me.
"And you. Are you happy now?""
I stared at her.
"I didn't invite the detective.""
"You did this!""
"No. I found documents with my name forged on them.""
Patricia laughed bitterly.
"Everything you touch becomes a problem.""
Dad stood.
"Stop blaming Amara.""
Patricia pointed at him.
"You've always chosen her!""
"She is my daughter.""
"And I'm your wife!""
"Then why did you do this?""
Patricia looked at the detective.
"I want a lawyer.""
"That's your right," Detective Harris replied.
Patricia walked toward the front door.
But before she left, she turned toward me.
"You're going to regret this.""
Dad stepped forward.
"Don't threaten my daughter.""
Patricia opened the door.
Then she said something that made the entire room go silent.
"Ask your husband what happened to Eleanor's last business account.""
Dad froze.
Detective Harris immediately looked at him.
"What business account?""
Patricia smiled.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked completely confident.
Then she walked out.
I turned toward Dad.
"What did she mean?""
He didn't answer.
"Is there another account?""
He sat down slowly.
"I don't know what she's talking about.""
But his expression had changed.
Detective Harris noticed.
"Mr. Bennett, I need you to be completely honest with me.""
Dad looked at the detective.
Then at me.
Finally, he spoke.
"Your mother had a small consulting business before she died. She kept a separate business account. I closed it after her death.""
"Did it contain money?"" I asked.
"Not much. I thought there was around forty thousand dollars remaining.""
I stared at him.
"Forty thousand?""
He nodded.
"Your mother had been saving it for future expenses.""
"Where did it go?""
Dad looked down.
"I transferred it into the estate account.""
Detective Harris made a note.
"Was that account included in the trust records?""
"I don't remember.""
The detective closed her notebook.
"Then we'll need to review those records too.""
After she left, I sat beside Dad.
I didn't know what to say.
He reached for my hand.
"Amara, I promise you, I never intended to take anything from your mother or from you.""
I squeezed his fingers.
"I want to believe you.""
He nodded.
"That's fair.""
That evening, Robert called.
He had received additional records from the trust company.
The suspicious login had been traced to the home office computer.
More importantly, the device had accessed an archived email account belonging to Dad.
An account he hadn't used in years.
Robert asked us to check the computer.
Dad went upstairs.
I followed him into the office.
The room smelled of leather furniture and old paper.
A large desk stood beneath the window.
Dad turned on the computer.
The screen took several seconds to load.
Then he opened the email account.
There were hundreds of archived messages.
He searched Patricia's name.
Nothing.
Then he searched Richard Coleman.
A message appeared.
The date was five years earlier.
The subject line read:
Eleanor's Account — Final Arrangement.
Dad opened it.
The email was from Richard.
It contained a message about a business account belonging to my mother.
Dad read it silently.
Then he scrolled down.
There was an attachment.
A scanned document.
I leaned closer.
It was a financial authorization.
At the bottom were two signatures.
Richard Coleman.
And Patricia Bennett.
Dad stared at the page.
"That's not possible.""
I pointed at the date.
It was six weeks after my mother had died.
And the document authorized the transfer of $40,000 from my mother's business account into a company registered under Patricia's name.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Did you sign this?""
Dad shook his head.
"No.""
He looked at the screen.
Then he whispered:
"Patricia didn't just know about your mother's money.""
He turned toward me.
"She may have been involved in taking it from the beginning.""
Before I could respond, another email appeared.
It was dated two days later.
The sender was Patricia.
May you like
And its subject line was:
Make Sure Amara Never Sees This.
