Arthur opened the door before I could knock twice.
For half a second, he simply stared at Grandma.
His face changed quickly.
Surprise.
Fear.
Then an attempt at calm.
“Mom.”
Grandma stood on the porch.
“Arthur.”
He looked past her toward me.
“Ivan, I can explain.”
“I'm sure you can.”
My mother appeared behind him.
Wendy's face went pale.
“Eleanor,” she said.
Grandma glanced at the boxes beside the doorway.
“What are those?”
Wendy looked at Arthur.
Arthur didn't answer.
Grandma stepped inside.
Neither of them stopped her.
The house smelled like cardboard, furniture polish, and the roast chicken my mother had apparently started cooking before we arrived.
The hallway looked wrong.
Family photographs had been removed from the walls.
A stack of Grandma's dishes sat inside an open box.
There was a handwritten inventory sheet on the dining-room table.
I picked it up.
Kitchenware.
Bedroom furniture.
Jewelry.
Paintings.
Personal effects.
My stomach turned.
“You were packing her things.”
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
“It's not what you think.”
Grandma looked around the room.
“Then tell me what I should think.”
Arthur swallowed.
“We were trying to make arrangements.”
“For what?”
“For your care.”
“I don't need care.”
“You do.”
Grandma's eyes hardened.
“You left me in a nursing facility.”
“We didn't abandon you.”
“You left.”
“We panicked.”
“You took me there with a suitcase.”
Arthur had no answer.
Wendy began crying quietly.
Grandma noticed.
“You knew.”
Wendy wiped her cheek.
“I knew some of it.”
“Some?”
“Arthur said the house needed to be protected.”
“From what?”
Wendy looked at her husband.
Arthur's voice came out low.
“Mom, the restaurant was in trouble.”
There it was.
He had finally said it.
I looked at him.
“How much?”
He didn't answer.
“How much did you take?”
“It wasn't like that.”
“Seventy-one thousand dollars?”
His face tightened.
Grandma watched him.
“You moved seventy-one thousand dollars from my accounts.”
“I intended to replace it.”
“With what?”
“The restaurant was going to recover.”
“You gambled my money on your business.”
Arthur's shoulders dropped.
“I was trying to keep everything from collapsing.”
Grandma's voice remained calm.
“You didn't ask me.”
“I knew you'd say no.”
That sentence changed the room.
Wendy closed her eyes.
I looked at my father.
He seemed to realize what he had admitted.
Grandma nodded slowly.
“So you knew I would refuse.”
“I thought you weren't thinking clearly.”
“Because I forgot something?”
“You've been forgetful.”
“About what?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Appointments. Bills.”
Grandma looked at me.
“Did I miss appointments?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Did I fail to pay bills?”
“Not that I know of.”
She turned back to Arthur.
“Then you needed something else.”
Arthur looked away.
Wendy spoke.
“He needed a reason.”
Arthur snapped toward her.
“Wendy.”
She flinched.
But then she kept talking.
“He said if everyone believed your mother needed help, no one would question the transfers.”
Arthur stared at her.
“You promised you wouldn't—”
“I can't keep lying.”
The room fell silent.
Grandma sat in her favorite armchair.
It was the same chair she had used every Thanksgiving and Christmas since I was a child.
She looked at Wendy.
“What happened at the facility?”
Wendy's hands shook.
“Arthur said we needed documentation.”
“Documentation of what?”
“That you needed supervised care.”
“Why?”
“So the financial transfers would look justified.”
Grandma closed her eyes.
I felt anger rise in my chest.
“You planned this.”
Arthur's voice was barely audible.
“I didn't plan to leave her there.”
“But you did.”
“I couldn't do it.”
“So you walked away.”
He looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
Grandma opened her eyes.
“Why didn't you come back?”
Arthur rubbed his face.
“Because once we got in the car, I realized what we'd done.”
“You realized?”
His voice cracked.
“I was ashamed.”
Grandma studied him.
“Shame didn't stop you from taking the money.”
He said nothing.
“And it didn't stop you from filing the deed.”
“I thought the deed would protect the house.”
“You forged my name.”
“I didn't sign it.”
“Then who did?”
Arthur's silence answered before he did.
“I arranged it.”
Grandma's gaze did not leave him.
“Who?”
He wouldn't say.
Wendy looked toward the floor.
“Patricia Voss.”
Arthur shot her a look.
My pulse quickened.
The name matched the notary on the deed.
Walter had suspected the connection.
Now we had something more.
Grandma stood.
“Where is the original deed?”
Arthur's eyes flicked toward the hallway.
I noticed.
So did Grandma.
She walked toward the study.
Arthur moved in front of her.
“Mom, please.”
“Move.”
“I can fix this.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You've had weeks to fix it.”
Arthur didn't move.
Grandma's voice became very quiet.
“You have one chance to tell me the truth before the sheriff hears it from someone else.”
He stepped aside.
The study was mostly unchanged.
Grandpa's old desk remained beneath the window.
His leather journal sat on the shelf.
Grandma opened the bottom drawer.
Empty.
She looked at Arthur.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew where it was last week.”
“I thought it was in here.”
Grandma turned toward me.
“Check the filing cabinet.”
I opened the drawers.
Insurance papers.
Tax records.
Old receipts.
Nothing.
Then I saw a fresh rectangle in the dust on the bottom shelf.
Something had been removed recently.
“Grandma.”
She came over.
I pointed.
She touched the shelf.
“They took it.”
Arthur stood in the doorway.
“I didn't.”
Grandma looked at him.
“Then who did?”
He didn't answer.
Wendy did.
“Arthur's attorney.”
Arthur spun around.
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I heard you tell him where it was.”
Grandma's face became still.
“Which attorney?”
Arthur rubbed both hands over his face.
“Mom, please.”
“Which attorney?”
He finally gave the name.
Walter had never mentioned him.
I wrote it down.
Grandma nodded.
“Good.”
She walked back into the living room.
Arthur followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To the sheriff.”
He froze.
“Mom.”
“You forged my property records, emptied my accounts, and tried to have me admitted to a nursing facility so you could make those transfers appear legitimate.”
“I didn't forge it.”
“You arranged it.”
“Please.”
Grandma stopped at the front door.
She looked back at the boxes.
“You were already packing my house.”
Arthur's face crumpled.
“I thought you were going to lose it.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You were going to take it.”
Wendy began crying again.
Grandma's expression softened for only a second.
Then she reached into her coat.
She removed the yellow envelope.
The original deed was still inside.
Arthur stared at it.
His face went completely blank.
“You don't have that.”
Grandma held it up.
“No.”
Her voice was almost gentle.
“You don't.”
She opened the envelope just enough for him to see the document.
“That's why you couldn't find it.”
Arthur stepped forward.
Grandma stepped back.
“I wanted to know how far you would go.”
He looked at the deed.
Then at the boxes.
Then at me.
For the first time since we arrived, he looked genuinely frightened.
Grandma put the document back inside her coat.
“Now we find out what else you've done.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: The Original Deed Was Safe, but the Missing Paperwork in Arthur’s Office Suggested the House Was Only One Piece of the Plan
The Call Came Before I Had Time to Finish My Coffee, and by the Time I Reached Grandma, Her Suitcase Was Already Waiting
Part 4 of 12
