Chapter 9 - Carla’s Insurance
Carla had always been the polished one.
Perfect nails.
Perfect hair.
Perfect smile.
She married Mark six years earlier after meeting him at a country club fundraiser.
I had never liked her.
But I had never feared her either.
Now my mother was telling me Carla had moved money through accounts using my name.
“How?”
“Richard gave her access.”
“To what?”
“Copies of your tax records.
Your Social Security number.
Old signatures.”
My chest tightened.
“Dad had those?”
“He kept everything.”
“Why?”
My mother looked ashamed.
“Because he had been opening accounts using your information since college.”
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
“Three years ago.”
The answer hurt almost as much as her court statement.
“And you said nothing.”
“I confronted him.”
“That is not what I asked.”
She lowered her head.
“No.
I said nothing.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I whispered, “Get out.”
“Claire—”
“Not yet.”
I forced myself to continue.
“What does Carla have to do with Ethan?”
My mother looked at Detective Sloan.
Sloan nodded for her to answer.
“Carla helped your father hide the money.”
“How?”
“She worked in insurance before she married Mark.”
I remembered.
Claims processing.
Compliance.
Something boring enough that I had never asked questions.
Mom continued.
“She knew how to build paperwork that looked legitimate.”
“For the fake companies?”
“Yes.”
“And the accounts?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
Carla had not married into the scheme.
She had helped professionalize it.
“Why marry Mark?”
“I don’t know.”
Detective Sloan spoke.
“We may.”
She placed another document in front of me.
A life insurance policy.
Insured person: Ethan Walker.
Policy value: $5,000,000.
Beneficiary: MRC Holdings.
I stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
Margaret read the document.
“When was this issued?”
“Seven months ago,” Sloan said.
“I never signed this.”
“You were not required to.
Ethan allegedly signed it.”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“Did he?”
Sloan placed an enlarged signature beside Ethan’s real signature.
They were similar.
But not identical.
Forgery.
The room became silent.
“Someone took out a five-million-dollar policy on my husband?”
“Yes.”
“And now he is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Who owns MRC Holdings?”
Sloan looked directly at me.
“We traced it this morning.”
I already knew the initials.
Mark.
Richard.
Carla.
But the ownership records held a surprise.
Mark owned twenty percent.
Dad owned forty.
Carla owned forty.
I stared at the page.
Carla was not helping my father.
She was his partner.
Maybe more.
My mother watched my face.
“There’s something else.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Three weeks ago, I heard Carla and Richard arguing.”
“About what?”
“Ethan.”
“What did they say?”
My mother swallowed.
“Carla said Ethan was getting too close.”
I felt Noah move against my arm.
“And Dad?”
My mother’s voice broke.
“He said they only needed ten more days.”
Ten days.
I counted backward.
Three weeks ago.
Ten days later.
May you like
Ethan died.
*
