Chapter 87 - The People Left Off the List
The handwritten list was undated, but the paper matched the foundation’s letterhead from the year after Anne died. The independent accountant compared the names with the review records. Four people had been scheduled for direct notice. None had received a complete statement.
My name had been redirected to Charles. Evelyn’s husband had been removed from the review team. Two others had left the harbor company years later and could not be located.
It looked deliberate. It still needed to be tied to someone.
Madison brought the box inventory to the foundation board. She did not make a speech. She asked the board to authorize a search for the other two people and to disclose the list to the independent reviewer. The motion passed.
Evelyn agreed to help identify the former employees. She remembered one as a bookkeeper named Thomas Pike, who had moved to Arizona. The other was a dock supervisor named Ruthie Cole, whose current address might be in county records.
“Why didn’t anyone ask me before?” Evelyn said.
“Because nobody wanted to hear another person say the records were incomplete,” I replied.
She gave me a sad smile. “That sounds like a story people tell themselves so they can sleep.”
The accountant found a direct deposit record connected to Thomas Pike. He had received a small quarterly payment from the reserve for several years, then the payments stopped. The description read “consulting stipend,” though Thomas had never been listed as a consultant.
Nora contacted him through an attorney. He agreed to speak after receiving copies of the payment records.
At the center, the news spread. Some participants worried the investigation would bring reporters. Ruth asked me not to give interviews until the board had reviewed the records. I agreed. We did not need to turn a developing accounting dispute into a public accusation.
A reporter called anyway. She said she was preparing a story about the waterfront redevelopment and wanted to know whether Adrian had hidden a payment. Nora helped me prepare a short statement: the records were under independent review; we would not speculate about intent; the center’s programs remained open.
The reporter asked whether I believed my father had taken money that belonged to my mother.
“I believe we need the full account before assigning blame,” I said.
“Do you trust him?”
I thought of his answers in the study. I thought of Anne’s signature on the temporary transfer. I thought of the notices that never reached me.
“Trust is not an accounting method,” I said. “We’re checking the documents.”
The line was published the next day, surrounded by a photograph of the center. The headline called the dispute a “family war over waterfront funds.” I disliked the phrase, but the article correctly noted that the evidence remained unresolved.
Charles’s attorney sent a letter demanding a correction. The newspaper declined, citing its reporting. For the first time, my father could not control the description simply by giving it.
That afternoon, Thomas Pike called Nora. He remembered the consulting payments. He said he had been asked to review invoices and had reported that one payment did not match a completed job. After that, he was told his services were no longer needed.
“Did you keep your notes?” Nora asked.
“I was told they were company property.”
“Do you have anything now?”
Thomas paused. “I kept a copy of the invoice. I didn’t know anyone would care.”
He sent a scan.
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The invoice was for a consulting review that had never been completed. It was dated after the reserve transfer and paid by the same shell company.
The vendor listed on the invoice was Rebecca’s former consulting firm.
