Chapter 6 - THE WRONG FUNERAL
Michael had not attended Thomas Reed's funeral.
That was the first problem.
Thomas and Michael had become estranged before Thomas died.
Not because of Margaret.
Money.
Michael borrowed $85,000 from his father to start a commercial cabinetry business.
Business failed.
Michael repaid thirty-eight thousand.
Then stopped.
Thomas demanded the rest.
Michael accused him of using the debt to control him.
They stopped speaking.
Thomas died eighteen months later.
Michael attended no service because Thomas's second wife told him:
“He didn't want you there.”
Michael believed her.
Another choice to avoid checking.
“I was good at that.”
he admitted.
“If somebody gave me a reason not to show up, I took it.”
Good.
No victim-only brother.
Then where did the story about Thomas visiting Bennett Estate after Richard's death come from?
A letter.
Michael still had it.
Dated eight years earlier.
Sent by Margaret.
Thomas came to the house after Richard's funeral. He asked about you. I told him I did not know where you were.
Impossible if Thomas had died before Richard.
Unless the death date Michael knew was wrong.
Sara checked public records.
Thomas Reed died eleven years ago.
No ambiguity.
Margaret's letter had been written three years later.
Why invent a visit from a dead ex-husband?
I looked at the cufflink.
Maybe because somebody else had come.
Someone Margaret wanted Michael to think was Thomas.
Then Michael said:
“There was another Reed.”
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
Thomas's younger brother.
Caleb Reed.
Same height.
Same build in old photographs.
Worked in commercial insurance.
Moved to New Jersey.
Alive?
Michael did not know.
Sara searched while we talked.
Caleb Reed had died last year.
Still no one to ask.
Then Vanessa said:
“This is irrelevant to the trust.”
I looked at her.
“You don't get to decide what is irrelevant anymore.”
She nodded.
No fight.
Progress, barely.
Michael returned to Claire's emails.
One mentioned Caleb.
Mom's address book has C. Reed listed under “do not call.” Any idea?
Michael had answered:
Uncle Caleb. Don't know why she'd have him.
Claire had been building the same map.
Then I remembered Lily.
The cufflink.
Where exactly had she found it?
We did not interrogate her.
Sara insisted.
Correct.
At dinner, I asked one question.
“Lil, can you show me where the gold thing was?”
She took me upstairs.
Vanessa did not come.
Michael stayed below.
Lily led me to the west guest corridor.
Not Michael's room.
The room beside it.
My mother's old sitting room.
Locked for years until Vanessa opened the wing during renovations.
“The door was open.”
Lily said.
“Did you go inside?”
“Yes.”
“Were you told not to?”
“No.”
Good.
“What happened?”
“I heard a man talking.”
“Michael?”
She frowned.
“The upstairs man?”
“Yes.”
“No. Before him.”
My skin changed temperature.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Michael had arrived today.
“Did you see him?”
“Just his back.”
“Did he talk to you?”
“He said, ‘You must be Claire's girl.’”
I stopped.
“What else?”
“He asked if Daniel was home.”
“You told him?”
“I said you were at work.”
“Then?”
“He said okay.”
“Did he give you the cufflink?”
“No.”
She pointed near the old desk.
“It was on the carpet.”
I crouched.
No signs of anything dramatic.
No broken lock.
No secret passage.
Just a room we had not used.
Lily looked worried.
“Was I not supposed to pick it up?”
“You were fine.”
I made sure she heard it.
“Adults should have told you if a room was off-limits. They didn't.”
Then I asked:
“Did you tell Vanessa about the man?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
There.
May you like
Vanessa had known an unidentified man was upstairs twenty-four hours before Michael arrived.
And she had said nothing.
