Chapter 4 - The Accountants' Gathering
Sunday morning was eerie.
Jessica was unusually kind,
Making me blueberry pancakes,
And asking if I wanted to "go for a nice drive" to look at "retirement communities."
"I'd like to stay home," I said,
My voice shaky and small.
"I want to see my friends."
Jessica stiffened.
"Your friends, Arthur?
You haven't seen them in years.
Who are you talking about?"
"The boys from the firm," I said.
"I invited them for a birthday brunch.
Today at noon."
Jessica looked at David.
David shrugged.
"Let him have his little party," David whispered.
"It'll look good for the record.
Shows we’re being inclusive before we move him."
Jessica sighed.
"Fine.
But just for an hour.
We have paperwork to finish with Dr. Sterling."
At exactly noon,
The doorbell rang.
In walked three men.
They were all in their late sixties or early seventies.
They wore suits that cost more than David’s car.
They carried briefcases like shields.
They were "The Three Riders."
The most feared forensic audit team in the tri-state area.
"Arthur!" shouted Frank,
A man with a booming voice and a mind like a supercomputer.
"Happy birthday, you old fox!"
Jessica tried to play the charming hostess,
But she was outclassed.
These men didn't see a pretty woman with a smile.
They saw a balance sheet with a deficit.
"And you must be Jessica," Frank said,
Taking her hand and holding it just a second too long.
"I’ve heard so much about your... ventures."
She blinked.
"My ventures?"
"The real estate market," Frank said smoothly.
"Very volatile right now.
Especially in the Caymans."
Jessica’s face went pale for a split second.
She forced a laugh.
"I don't know what you mean.
I'm just a housewife."
"Of course you are," Frank replied.
We sat in the dining room,
The same room where the dog bowl had sat twenty-four hours ago.
But the atmosphere had shifted.
David was sweating.
He could feel the weight of the men in the room.
He could feel the authority they radiated.
"So, David," said Harold,
The second Rider,
Who specialized in money laundering.
"I hear you’ve been doing some... day trading?
High stakes stuff?"
David gulped his water.
"Just a hobby, really."
"A four-hundred-thousand-dollar hobby?" Harold asked,
Raising an eyebrow.
"That’s a lot of skin in the game for a man with no income."
Jessica jumped in.
"I think Arthur is getting tired.
Maybe we should wrap this up."
"Actually," I said,
My voice no longer shaky.
My voice was clear.
Cold.
And resonant.
"I’ve never felt more awake."
I stood up.
The mask of the senile old man fell away.
I looked at my son.
I looked at his wife.
"The brunch is over," I said.
"But the audit is just beginning."
Frank opened his briefcase.
He pulled out a portable projector and a small screen.
"What is this?" David stammered.
"This," I said,
"Is your inheritance."
I clicked a remote in my pocket.
The screen lit up with the bank statements,
The forged signatures,
And the "Project Sunset" blueprints.
"This is a mistake," Jessica hissed,
Her eyes darting toward the door.
"There’s no mistake, Monica," I said,
Using her real name.
She froze.
"The police are already at your sister's house.
The notary?
She’s currently explaining why she notarized a signature,
Of a man who wasn't in the room."
The color drained from the room.
May you like
The predators were finally realizing,
That they were trapped in a cage of their own making.
