Chapter 3 - DANIEL’S INVESTIGATOR HAD BEEN WATCHING THE WRONG PERSON FIRST
Felix Monroe visited my hospital room on Friday.
He looked nothing like the private investigator Mother had described.
No black coat.
No dramatic scar.
Sixty-three.
Khakis.
Reading glasses.
Former forensic accountant for the Washington State Auditor’s Office.
“I mostly look at spreadsheets,” he said.
“You disappoint television.”
“I’ve survived.”
He sat.
Mother remained near the window.
Felix did not greet her.
Interesting.
“You were investigating Celeste?”
“Eventually.”
“Who first?”
He looked at Evelyn.
“Daniel.”
My mother’s face changed.
I stared.
“What?”
“Your brother hired me because he thought somebody inside Hartwell was leaking information about Orchard.”
“He thought Celeste?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“You.”
I laughed.
My ribs punished me.
“Of course.”
Daniel had spent most of our adult lives convinced I wanted control.
Father appointed me CEO instead of him.
Daniel became CFO.
Mother called the decision unfair.
Daniel said it did not bother him.
Then spent nine years proving otherwise.
Felix continued.
“He thought you had discovered Orchard and were using vendor audits to corner him.”
“Why not ask me?”
“Have you met your brother?”
Fair.
“What changed?”
“I followed the money.”
Orchard was receiving payments from three Hartwell vendors.
The vendors believed they were paying confidential strategic-consulting fees approved by senior finance.
Digital authorizations bore my signature.
Daniel knew I had not signed them.
That forced him to consider someone was using the same signature method he had used years earlier.
“Celeste?”
“Yes.”
“How did she get it?”
Felix looked at Mother.
Evelyn whispered:
“She kept Daniel’s family-office records.”
The copied signature image had been stored inside a password-protected folder Daniel created for the Sloan transaction.
Celeste knew the password.
“How?”
“She was his wife,” Mother said.
Not an answer.
Enough.
Felix continued.
“At first Daniel wanted to handle this without police or board involvement.”
“Of course.”
“He said exposure of the original Orchard transaction could remove him as CFO.”
“It could have.”
“He also worried about you.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“That you’d be implicated because your forged signature was on the original guarantee.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Fraud makes paperwork messy.”
Felix was right.
An outside reviewer could have initially believed I participated.
Daniel wanted to untangle it privately before telling me.
He spent months gathering records.
During that time, Celeste apparently realized he was investigating.
Their marriage deteriorated.
“She threatened him?”
“Indirectly.”
Felix showed me texts.
Celeste:
**If Orchard becomes public, Mara won’t be the only person answering questions.**
Daniel:
**I’m done covering this.**
Celeste:
**You started it.**
Daniel:
**I’m ending it.**
Celeste:
**Then tell your mother what happens to her when Mara learns.**
I looked at Evelyn.
Mother stared at the floor.
“She knew I was afraid of losing you too.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You had already lost me.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Felix slid another paper across.
Daniel’s handwritten note.
**Celeste’s leverage = truth about Orchard + fake story about Mara. Mom won’t help because admitting Celeste lied means admitting we lied first.**
That sentence explained my mother better than anything she had said.
Celeste’s forged emails worked because Evelyn was already protecting a secret from me.
If she admitted the emails were fake, she risked me asking why Daniel had been desperate enough to hide corporate records.
So she chose the version where I was the villain.
Then Felix said:
“Daniel changed his mind eleven days before his death.”
“What happened?”
“He discovered Celeste was trying to alter the trust.”
My stomach tightened.
Daniel’s marital trust owned most of his Hartwell shares after death.
He had created it to provide for Celeste while keeping voting control with an independent trustee.
Me.
“Alter how?”
“He asked estate counsel to remove Celeste as successor trustee.”
“Did he?”
“Drafted amendment. Never signed.”
Motive.
Not proof.
“What else?”
“He consulted divorce counsel.”
Mother looked up sharply.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Felix did.
Daniel had scheduled a meeting for the Monday after he died.
“He was leaving her.”
“Looks that way.”
Celeste stood to lose:
Marriage.
Access to Orchard.
Potential control of Daniel’s shares.
And whatever financial protection he planned to revoke.
Felix opened his tablet.
“One more thing.”
A marina parking record.
Celeste’s Lexus entered the Lake Washington marina at 4:52 p.m. the day Daniel died.
Exited 5:37.
Her police statement said she had spent the afternoon at a Bellevue charity committee meeting.
That meeting ended at four.
She had never mentioned the marina.
“Do police have this?”
“Now.”
“Camera?”
“Marina system overwrote most video after thirty days.”
Daniel died six months ago.
Of course.
“Then it proves she was there, not what she did.”
Felix nodded.
“Correct.”
Evidence first.
I hated all of them.
“What about the boat?”
“Daniel installed an aft-deck camera.”
My pulse increased.
“For what?”
“Gear theft. Somebody stole electronics from the marina the previous spring.”
“Did police recover it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Memory card was water-damaged.”
I stared.
“Nothing?”
“Initial lab got fragments. Seattle PD sent a forensic image to a specialist after your crash reopened the case.”
“So we wait.”
“Yes.”
“What do the fragments show?”
Felix hesitated.
“One frame.”
He turned the tablet.
Timestamp:
5:14 p.m.
Daniel’s boat.
Celeste standing on the stern.
Alive.
Clear.
Wearing the same red coat she wore in a photograph at her charity meeting earlier that afternoon.
She had lied about ever boarding.
Then Felix zoomed in.
Something silver in her hand.
Near Daniel’s inflatable life jacket.
“What is that?”
“We don’t know.”
I knew only one thing.
May you like
Celeste had not merely been at the marina.
She had been touching the equipment that failed before Daniel drowned.
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