Chapter 6 - The Boca Connection
"The house was just a symptom, David," I said, turning to the next tab in the black binder. "A small transaction to wash a little bit of dirty money."
Valerie scoffed, though her hands were visibly shaking now. "Dirty money? Are you insane? My parents are retired dentists!"
"Your parents," I corrected, reading from the ledger, "were clients of Marcus Thorne. The man who built this vault."
Valerie froze. Every ounce of color drained from her face, leaving her looking like a porcelain doll left out in the snow.
"Marcus Thorne," she whispered.
"Arthur was a restorer," I told David, who was looking at me like he was seeing a stranger. "He worked in this very house, repairing antique furniture. He found Thorne's backup drives hidden in a false panel of a desk. He kept them, just in case."
I pulled a beautifully crisp, printed document from the binder and slid it across the oak table toward Valerie.
"Your parents didn't retire from dentistry, Valerie," I said. "They were quietly pushed out after embezzling nearly four million dollars from their partners' pension fund. Thorne made the problem disappear. He set up Vance Holdings. He laundered the stolen pensions through real estate."
"Stop," Valerie gasped, backing away from the table. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"They're flying in from Boca next weekend, aren't they?" I asked, smiling thinly. "To stay in my carriage house. How nice of them. Will they be bringing the stolen pensions in their luggage, or wire transferring it?"
"David, make her stop!" Valerie shrieked, grabbing her husband's arm. "She's having a psychotic break! The grief has made her delusional! We need to leave. Right now."
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David didn't move. He looked down at the document on the table. It had bank logos, wire transfer numbers, and signatures. Eleanor and Richard Vance.
"Val," David whispered, horrified. "This has your signature on it too. As a beneficiary."
