Chapter 7 - Someone Had Kept My Mother’s Email Alive
I knew Rebecca's email password.
At least I had once.
So did Daniel.
Maybe Margaret.
Probably half the house.
My mother had used the same basic combination for years and responded to every security warning by adding another exclamation point.
Dana did not treat this as a ghost story.
“An old email address can remain active.”
“I know.”
“The question is who retained access.”
Margaret said:
“Daniel handled her bills.”
“After she died?”
“Some.”
Mr. Hayes looked at her.
“Rebecca's estate account was managed by my office.”
“I mean utilities.”
That made sense.
I asked:
“Did Daniel have her phone?”
Margaret nodded.
“For a while.”
“Where is it now?”
“Desk upstairs, I think.”
I went toward the stairs.
Mr. Hayes said:
“Emma.”
“What?”
“You are not collecting evidence by tearing through drawers.”
“It’s my mother's phone.”
“It may now be relevant to a fraudulent filing.”
“Then what?”
“Leave it where it is and let the investigator document it.”
I hated adulthood.
“Fine.”
Dana continued:
“The email sent to Hollis did not contain the death certificate.”
“What did it contain?”
“A message directing them to contact a document source.”
“What source?”
“A private estate-research contractor.”
“Name?”
“Carter Legacy Research.”
I stared.
“That sounds fake.”
“It is a legitimate business with an unfortunate name.”
Margaret almost smiled despite herself.
“Who hired them?”
“That's the issue.”
Dana looked at Mr. Hayes.
“They were paid in September.”
I frowned.
“September?”
“Three months before the filing.”
“By Daniel?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Dana took a breath.
“Rebecca.”
The room went quiet.
I stared.
“Mom was dead in September.”
“Yes.”
“Then she did not pay them.”
“Correct.”
“From her estate?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Dana looked uncomfortable.
“The card was still in her name.”
Margaret whispered:
“Daniel.”
I turned.
“You know?”
She stood.
“Rebecca had one old credit card that never closed because Daniel kept charging property expenses to it.”
Mr. Hayes looked irritated.
“He had no authority to do that.”
Margaret shrugged.
“You're discovering how the house ran.”
I headed toward the carriage house again.
This time nobody stopped me.
Daniel was inside.
The cardboard boxes were still there.
He was sitting on the stairs to the loft with his phone in his hand.
He looked at my face.
“What happened?”
“You used Mom's credit card in September.”
His expression changed.
“Yes.”
“For Carter Legacy Research.”
“No.”
I stopped.
“You used the card.”
“For gutters.”
“Gutters.”
“Roof contractor required deposit.”
“Did you hire the research company?”
“No.”
“Did you keep Mom's email active?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Utilities. Vendor accounts. Insurance.”
“Did you send an email to Hollis from it?”
“No.”
“Could somebody else?”
“Margaret had the password.”
“She says you had the phone.”
“I did.”
“Did the phone receive two-factor codes?”
“Sometimes.”
“Daniel.”
He stood.
“I did not hire that company in September.”
I watched him.
For the first time, I believed the denial enough to be annoyed by it.
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Mom use that research company when she was alive?”
His face changed.
“What?”
“You recognize the name.”
Daniel looked toward the mansion.
“Rebecca did genealogical work.”
“Why?”
“Our father.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about him?”
“Nothing scandalous.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“She was trying to settle an argument with Margaret.”
Of course.
“What argument?”
“Who actually paid for the house in the eighties.”
I stared.
“That’s what this family did for fun?”
“Pretty much.”
Rebecca had hired Carter Legacy Research two years before she died to trace historical ownership, loans, and family contributions.
Not inheritance.
History.
Who sacrificed what.
Margaret had insisted her father built the estate from Carter money.
Rebecca discovered the truth was messier.
“What did she find?”
Daniel shrugged.
“I didn't care.”
“Really?”
“I cared until I realized everybody was using receipts from 1987 to explain why they deserved a bedroom in 2024.”
That sounded almost like me.
I studied him.
“You and Mom agreed on something.”
“Occasionally.”
“Did the company still have her file?”
“I assume.”
“Could someone have reactivated the relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Who knew?”
“Margaret. Me. Hayes probably.”
Mr. Hayes, behind us, said:
“No.”
Daniel turned.
He had followed at a distance.
Rebecca had hired the company without him.
Fine.
“Who else?” I asked.
Daniel thought.
“Rebecca's assistant.”
“What assistant?”
“Not like a personal assistant. Bookkeeper. House manager.”
“Name.”
“Carol Bennett.”
I remembered Carol.
Fifty-something.
Quiet.
Ran household accounts during Mom's final years.
She left two months after the funeral.
Margaret disliked her.
“Why did she leave?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Rebecca died.”
Margaret appeared in the doorway behind Mr. Hayes.
“No.”
We all turned.
“What?”
Margaret looked unsettled.
“Carol left because Daniel accused her of stealing.”
Daniel's face tightened.
“That was never proven.”
“You said you were certain.”
“I was wrong.”
I stared at him.
“What did you accuse her of taking?”
“Copies.”
“Copies of what?”
He looked toward the main house.
“Rebecca's estate files.”
My mother’s old email had contacted a research company Rebecca used while alive.
The credit card in her name paid for it.
And the one former employee who may have left with copies of her records had been driven away by Daniel.
May you like
For the first time, the death certificate looked larger than my brother's grab for a house.
Someone might have been using Rebecca's identity to force open a fight she had started before she died.
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