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Grace Holloway parked two houses down from her old home, pulling up along the curb as the light faded through the heavy cover of trees. Streetlights were coming on and lights through the windows of the big houses cast shadows out across the broad verandahs. She got out and locked the car, the night sounds of tree frogs and lingering songbirds filtering down the street.
She looked both ways to see if any neighbors were out. The street was deserted, at least for the moment. She moved quickly down the walk and up the drive to the big brick colonial. Moving to the back in the fading light, she could still make out the elegant patio area and pool deck where she had previously hosted so many events and gatherings. It all seemed a distant memory now.
She still had a key to the back door and let herself in quickly, again looking in both directions to see if anyone was watching. Inside, she pulled a small flashlight from her purse, not wanting to turn on any lights and raise suspicion. The flow and smell of the house was warm and familiar, and a pang of regret overwhelmed her as she thought of how far she had fallen from her old affluent and comfortable lifestyle.
Keeping the light low to the floor, she made her way through the opulent kitchen, then through the long dining room and across the front of the house to her now-deceased
husband’s den. She pushed open the heavy oak double doors and slipped in, closing them behind her. Turning, even in the low light, she could see the familiar furniture and décor of the room. It smelled of old leather and cigar smoke, a nasty habit she had constantly argued with Phillip about.
Over the past months since her release from prison, she had tried on multiple occasions to find time alone in this room. The night Phillip met his unfortunate yet well-deserved end, she thought, there was no time. She had needed to get away as quickly as possible. Now, there was nothing but time. Phillip was gone. The police investigation was continuing, but they had found all they thought they needed here.
But they didn’t know about the secrets and treasures Phillip had hidden away in this room.
She moved across the plush carpet to the desk and then around to a bookshelf across the back wall filled with law books, a vast fiction library, and memorabilia and photos that Phillip had treasured most.
Grace had always hated this room. It represented everything she despised about her worthless and corrupt husband, his arrogant excesses, ruthless alliances, heartless dalliances. And on top of all that, he was an atrocious lover, she thought.
How did I put up with this for so long?
She forced herself to focus on the true purpose of her visit. Moving over to the far right side of the bookshelf wall, she moved aside several books, exposing a small button against the back. When she touched it, as expected, the deep brown mahogany panel behind the books lifted to reveal a wall safe.
Hopefully, he hasn’t changed the combination since I've been gone.
She shined the light and turned the numbers she had kept in her memory for years. Phillip had never shared them
with her, but she found a note tucked away in his briefcase one night when he was passed out from too much bourbon after dinner.
She turned to the last number and then reached for the handle. It wouldn’t move and her first thought was the bastard had changed the combination. She tried again, and this time, there was a satisfying click and the heavy metal door swung open.
Her heart started beating faster and she realized she was breathing hard as she pulled the safe door fully open and then shone the light inside.
Her first reaction was a surprised, “Holy crap!”
She reached in and pulled out four stacks of U.S. currency. Placing them on the desk, she moved closer with the light and saw the bills were wrapped with a paper strap and the outside bills were all 50’s. In her mind, she quickly did the math... stacks of 50s, probably 50 to a stack... a nice find of
$10,000.
Returning to the safe, her light revealed ten more stacks of bills, another $25,000. She placed all the money in the large bag she’d brought in.
Behind the money, she found three file folders stuffed with documents. All went into the bag. At the back of the safe, she reached in to bring out a bright silver revolver with a wood grip. The gun was heavy and fully loaded.
This must be the .45 he always bragged to his buddies
about.
The gun also went into her bag along with a box of
shells, then she took one more look in the safe. She almost didn’t see it in the low light but reached back to find a notecard. Examining it in the wash of the flashlight, she saw ten numbers typed out and nothing else.
An account number? A password?
Satisfied she had emptied all the contents of the safe, she closed it and pushed the button to close the cabinet wall. The panel quietly slipped back into place. She reset the books and then turned to her husband’s desk. Sitting in the deeply cushioned leather chair, she reached for the center drawer. It was locked, as were all four other drawers on each side. She remembered watching Phillip hide a key when he didn’t see her come into the den.
On the back credenza, there was an ornate wooden box. She opened it and smelled the rich aroma of the cigars he kept. Pushing some of them aside, she found the small key. One lock on the upper left corner of the desk opened all the drawers. In the center drawer, she didn’t find anything of interest, a few pens and paperclips, a handful of documents that appeared to have no value to her.
The other side drawers held many file folders, each labeled and in alphabetical order. She began browsing through them, not entirely sure what she was looking for. There were tax files, documents for homes, cars, a boat, some client files. None of it caught her attention until a single file near the back of the last drawer caused her to pause. She pulled it out and opened it in front of her on the desk. There was no label on the file. The single page document inside was a ledger of balances.
At the top of the first column was an initial balance of
$2,500,000.
What!
Beneath the initial balance were a series of withdrawals in various increments, typically around $10,000. At the bottom, a current tally showed $2,150,000.
She scanned the rest of the sheet and saw a telephone number with an area code she didn’t recognize, probably international, she thought. She placed the ledger sheet in her bag with the other items.
Closing all the drawers and re-locking the desk, she returned the key to the cigar box. Her mind was swimming with the possibilities of all she had found. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded and reached for the desk to steady herself. Taking a moment and several deep breaths, she gathered herself and started for the door.
One other item caught her attention. On a wall with many framed photos, most of Phillip with various celebrities and politicians, there was also a photo she remembered well. She walked over softly and shined the light at a small color photo, framed in black like all the others. It was a picture of her and Phillip with Ben and Hanna Walsh at a company event. The men were in tuxedos, she and Hanna in smart evening dresses. It had probably been taken ten years earlier, she thought, trying to remember the night.
She had always been drawn to the picture. The handsome face of Hanna’s husband stared back at her again, and she allowed herself to remember some of their more intimate times together. She shook her head as sadness washed over her.
How did everything go so wrong?