The Wrong Accountant
“Your father is carrying the weight of the world right now. He needs peace. Please, darling, don’t burden him with unnecessary questions about the house. Let the professionals handle it.”
I kept my expression vacant, but my eyes locked onto her wrist. A diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet sparkled under the fluorescent lights. It was a beautiful piece.
I recognized it immediately, because my mother had photographed that exact bracelet resting intimately on a nightstand beside my father’s engraved Rolex—on the hidden flash drive.
After Arthur and Vanessa finally left, leaving behind a suffocating stench of lies and lilies, Detective Ortiz slipped into the room through the staff entrance.
She unzipped a nondescript black backpack and placed a heavy-duty police laptop on my tray table.
“We decrypted your mother’s drive,” Ortiz said softly. “You were right. The woman was a ghost auditor.”