The last guests trickled out, and the catering staff began clearing tables.
I found Leo in the study, loosening his tie.
“Leo.”
“I know.
You said tonight.
I’m listening.”
“Not here.
Not with him in the house.”
“He’s upstairs.
He won’t —”
The study door opened.
Richard walked in, still in his tuxedo, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He sat in the leather chair behind the desk — his chair, his territory — and looked at me the way he’d looked at me in the attic.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself.” He sipped his whiskey.
“I noticed you were talking to Margaret Ashford tonight.
Interesting woman.
A bit unstable, though.
Evelyn thought so too.”
“Richard,” Leo said.
“What did you send her to the attic for?”
“Family albums.
Is that a crjme now?”
“She was in an evening gown.
You have staff for that.”
“The staff was busy.
And she offered.” Richard looked at me.
“Didn’t you?”
“I found something in the attic,” I said.
Richard’s hand paused on the glass.
“Did you.”
“Your wife left a tape.
She recorded a message for Leo.”
The silence in the room was absolute.
Richard set his glass down slowly.
“Evelyn was sick for a long time,” he said.
“She wasn’t in her right mind near the end.
Whatever ramblings she left on some old tape —”
“She said you made sure she was gone.”
Leo stood up.
“What?”
Richard’s face didn’t change.
“Your mother was on heavy medication.
She said many things that weren’t true.
I’m sorry your wife has been listening to the fantasies of a dying woman.”
“She said your money came from something terrible,” I continued.
“And I found a photograph.
You, standing next to Victor Marchetti.”
The color drained from Richard’s face.
Just for a second.
Then it came back.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Victor Marchetti.
Convicted three years ago for defrauding hundreds of families out of their life savings.
He’s serving fifteen years.” I held his gaze.
“And there’s a photograph of you with your arm around his shoulder, smiling.”
Richard looked at Leo.
“Your wife has been going through my belongings.
Through your mother’s private things.
That’s not curiosity — that’s an invasion.”
“Answer the question, Dad.”
“I met hundreds of people at charity events.
If someone took a photograph with me, that doesn’t make me a criminal.”
“Then why did you look scared when I said his name?”
Richard stood.
“I think you should leave.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Leo said.
“Neither am I.
Not until you tell me the truth.”
Richard’s mask cracked.
Not all the way — just enough to see what was underneath.
“You want the truth?” he said, his voice dropping.
“The truth is that everything you have — this house, your job, your car, the life you’ve been living — exists because of choices I made.
Choices that kept a roof over your head while your mother was busy playing the saint.”
“What choices?” Leo’s voice was shaking now.
“Business choices.
With people who weren’t always clean.
Victor Marchetti was a partner.
A silent one.
And when he got caught, I made sure my name stayed out of it.”
“You were involved in his fraud scheme?”
“I was involved in making money.
What Victor did with the rest of it was his problem.”
“Dad, people lost everything.
Elderly people.
Families.”
“And we gained everything.” Richard spread his arms.
“Look around you.
This house.
This life.
It didn’t come from your mother’s teaching salary.”
Leo sat down slowly.
He looked like a man whose foundation had just been pulled out.
“The money,” Leo said.
“My salary at the company.
The contracts I’ve been signing —”
“Are fine,” Richard said quickly.
“Perfectly fine.”
“Are they?
Or have you been running the same money through my name the way you ran it through Victor’s?”
Richard didn’t answer.
“Oh God,” Leo whispered.
“You used me.”
“I protected you.”
“You used me as a front.”
“I gave you a career.
A life.
A future.”
“A future built on stolen money.” Leo’s hands were shaking.
“And Mom?
Did she find out?
Is that why —”
“Your mother was sick.”
“Did she find out, Richard?”
The room went silent.
Richard looked at his son, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t control.
It was calculation.
He was deciding which lie would cost him the least.
“Your mother found the financial records,” he said finally.
“She threatened to go to the authorities.
I told her if she did, the company would collapse, Leo would lose everything, and we’d all be ruined.”
“So she stayed quiet?”
“She stayed quiet.
And then she got sick.”
“Did you get her help?” I asked.
Richard looked at me with cold fury.
“Of course I did.”
“Evelyn’s friend Margaret said you disconnected the phone.
You stopped visitors.
You isolated her.”
“Evelyn was dying.
I managed her care.”
“Did you manage it, or did you make sure she didn’t talk to anyone who might ask questions?”
Richard’s hand tightened around his glass.
“You’re standing in my house, accusing me of —”
“I’m asking you a question.
Did your wife get the medical care she needed, or did you let her die to keep your secret?”
He slammed the glass down.
Whiskey splashed across the desk.
“Get out of my house.”
“She’s not leaving,” Leo said.
He stood up.
“And neither am I.
Not until this is finished.”
“Leo, don’t be a fool.
Everything you have is because of me.”
“Everything I have is because of stolen money.
