Chapter 10 - The Housekeeper's Testimony
April Henderson lived in a small retirement community outside Green Bay.
Finding her wasn't easy.
She'd changed her phone number twice.
Her old address was vacant.
And the retirement community receptionist refused to disclose resident information.
Peter used his professional contacts to deliver a message.
Two hours later, April called.
Morgan recognized her voice immediately.
"Miss Morgan?"
Morgan nearly cried.
"April?"
"Oh, honey."
The woman's voice cracked.
"I've been hoping you'd find me."
They arranged to meet the following morning at Peter's office.
April arrived wearing a brown wool coat and carrying a canvas shopping bag.
She was seventy-four now.
Her hair had gone almost entirely white.
But her eyes were just as sharp as Morgan remembered.
She hugged Morgan tightly.
"Your grandmother loved you more than anything."
Morgan closed her eyes.
"I miss her."
"So do I."
They sat around the conference table.
Peter placed Clara's letter between them.
April looked at it.
Then nodded.
"She finally gave you the key."
Morgan swallowed.
"Someone broke into the cabinet before we got there."
April didn't seem surprised.
"I expected they would."
"Then why did Grandma leave the key?"
"Because the cabinet was never the real hiding place."
Morgan stared.
"What?"
April smiled sadly.
"Clara always said the best place to hide something was where people expected to find nothing."
She reached into her bag.
Removed an old recipe book.
And slid it across the table.
Morgan recognized it instantly.
Clara's handwritten recipes.
Apple pie.
Sunday biscuits.
Cherry jam.
"She gave that to you?"
"Six months before she died."
April opened the book to a page marked with a faded yellow ribbon.
Inside the back cover was a carefully cut compartment.
It held a small electronic storage device.
Morgan stared.
"She hid evidence in her recipe book?"
April nodded.
"She knew somebody was searching the house."
Morgan looked at the device.
"What's on it?"
"Copies of everything she collected."
"About Julian?"
"About all of them."
Peter connected the device to a computer without opening any files directly on his office network.
He used an isolated system maintained for reviewing unfamiliar evidence.
Several folders appeared.
PROPERTY TRANSFERS.
CORPORATE RECORDS.
FINANCIAL TRANSACTIONS.
WITNESS STATEMENTS.
AUDIO.
Morgan clicked the last folder.
There were several recordings.
April pointed to one.
"Listen to this."
A woman's voice came through the speakers.
Clara.
Older.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
"This is Clara Whitfield. October twenty-third."
Morgan pressed a hand over her mouth.
She hadn't heard her grandmother's voice since the funeral.
"I'm recording this because I no longer believe I'm safe."
A rustling sound.
Then Clara continued.
"Samuel Whitcomb offered me three million dollars for the land surrounding the cottage."
"When I refused, he threatened to challenge the property records."
"He said he had people who could make legal documents say whatever they wanted."
Peter leaned closer.
Clara's voice hardened.
"I investigated his companies. I discovered a pattern of properties being transferred away from widows, elderly owners, and families dealing with medical crises."
"I also discovered that my granddaughter's husband has been communicating with Whitcomb's associates."
Morgan felt tears slipping down her cheeks.
Clara continued.
"I confronted Julian."
A pause.
"He denied everything."
"But two days later, someone entered my house while I was sleeping."
Morgan closed her eyes.
"April found the back door unlocked. My study had been searched."
"I called the sheriff's office."
"Afterward, Julian offered to move me into assisted living."
Morgan stared.
Julian had told her Grandma was becoming forgetful.
He'd suggested several times that Clara needed supervision.
Morgan had believed he was being considerate.
The recording continued.
"I do not believe my granddaughter knows what kind of man she married."
"And I am afraid that telling her directly will put her in danger."
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, April said, "There's more."
She opened another folder.
This one contained photographs.
Documents.
Financial records.
A series of transactions involving Crownbridge Holdings.
Then Morgan noticed a name.
Rachel Mercer.
She opened the file.
Rachel's property transfer had been recorded two days before her death.
The receiving company was linked to Crownbridge.
Another document showed a payout from a settlement account.
Nearly two million dollars.
Morgan's chest tightened.
"Rachel's husband got rich after she died."
Evelyn covered her mouth.
April nodded.
"Your grandmother believed Rachel wasn't the first victim."
"How many were there?" Morgan whispered.
April's eyes filled.
"Enough that Clara started keeping a list."
Morgan scrolled downward.
Six names.
Six women.
Six property transfers.
Some had died.
Others had been declared unable to manage their financial affairs.
Morgan stared at the final entry.
Her own name.
Morgan Bennett.
Beneath it was an estimated property value.
$7,850,000.
And beside it, a typed note.
Target acquisition pending.
Morgan looked up.
"Why does this say pending?"
April's voice trembled.
"Because Clara believed you were next."
Then Peter clicked another file.
A scanned document appeared.
It was dated three weeks earlier.
Morgan leaned forward.
At the top, it read:
PETITION FOR EMERGENCY GUARDIANSHIP.
The petitioner was Julian Bennett.
The subject was Morgan Bennett.
And attached to the petition was a physician's evaluation.
Morgan stared at the signature.
She had never met the doctor.
Never undergone the examination.
Yet the report described her as mentally unstable and incapable of making financial decisions.
Then Peter scrolled to the final page.
Morgan's breath stopped.
There was another signature.
May you like
Her own.
Perfectly copied.
