Chapter 8 - Richard Reed’s Signature
Alexander stopped defending his father privately before he stopped defending him publicly.
The change began with a document from 1996.
Miriam placed it on his desk.
A board consent approving the St. Aurelia property sale.
Celeste Reed’s signature appeared at the bottom.
Alexander compared it with handwritten birthday cards preserved in his office.
“It’s good.”
“Very.”
“But?”
“Her signature normally crossed the final D in Reed with a long horizontal stroke.”
“This one doesn’t.”
Miriam nodded.
Alexander stared.
“Forgery?”
“We need an expert.”
“Get one.”
The handwriting examiner’s preliminary opinion arrived twenty-four hours later.
Strong indicators of simulation.
Alexander sat alone for several minutes.
His father had signed the same page.
If Richard knew Celeste was missing, he knew she could not have signed it.
That was no longer passive silence.
That was participation.
Maya called Elena with another discovery.
“I found Leonard Voss.”
Elena frowned.
“Who?”
“Richard Reed’s attorney in 1996.”
Alexander’s heart tightened when Elena told him.
Voss was eighty-four and living in an assisted-living facility in Westchester.
His daughter agreed to a meeting if an attorney attended.
Detective Foster joined them.
Voss looked frail.
His memory was uneven.
But the name Celeste Reed sharpened him.
“She was trouble.”
Alexander’s face tightened.
“She was my mother.”
Voss blinked.
“I know who you are.”
“What did she do?”
“She asked questions men disliked.”
“About Orpheus?”
Voss looked toward Detective Foster.
“Am I being accused?”
“No,” Foster said. “We’re asking what you remember.”
Voss exhaled.
“Richard was terrified.”
“Of what?” Alexander asked.
“Scandal.”
“Financial?”
“Financial. Marital. Personal.”
Alexander leaned forward.
“Did my mother leave voluntarily?”
Voss closed his eyes.
“No.”
The room went still.
Elena gripped her chair.
Alexander whispered, “What?”
“She did not write the letter.”
The letter investigators had found six weeks after Celeste vanished.
The one saying she needed a new life.
Alexander stared.
“Who wrote it?”
“I drafted it.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Alexander stood.
“You drafted my mother’s goodbye letter?”
Voss trembled.
“Richard dictated the substance.”
“You let me believe she abandoned me.”
“I was told she had left the country.”
“By whom?”
“Richard.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Voss looked down.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Sebastian came to Richard’s office the night she vanished.”
“What time?”
“Approximately one twenty in the morning.”
Alexander’s pulse rose.
“What was he wearing?”
“A tuxedo.”
“Anything unusual?”
Voss hesitated.
“His cuff was torn.”
Elena whispered, “There was blood on Celeste’s cloak.”
Voss looked at her.
“I don’t know about blood.”
Alexander leaned closer.
“What did Sebastian have?”
Voss’s eyes drifted toward the evidence photograph of the brooch.
“That.”
Alexander stopped breathing.
“The brooch?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“He put it on Richard’s desk.”
“What did he say?”
Voss’s mouth trembled.
“He said, ‘She won’t be going to the attorney general.’”
Nobody moved.
Detective Foster asked, “What did Richard say?”
Voss looked toward Alexander.
“I’m sorry.”
“Say it.”
“He asked, ‘Where is she?’”
Alexander’s entire body tightened.
“And Sebastian?”
Voss whispered, “‘Somewhere she cannot hurt us.’”
Elena began crying silently.
Foster continued.
“Did you understand that to mean she was dead?”
“Not then.”
“When did you?”
“Two days later.”
“What happened?”
“Richard told me to prepare the departure letter.”
“Why?”
“He said there would be no body.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not proof of who killed Celeste.
But proof Richard believed there would be no body.
Voss continued.
“I created the settlement for Ms. Navarro.”
Elena looked at him.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know my mother was sick?”
“Sebastian told Richard.”
Elena felt physically ill.
They had researched her vulnerability.
Calculated a price.
“What else did you prepare?” Foster asked.
“Property consents.”
“Celeste’s signature?”
Voss began shaking.
Alexander stared.
“Did you forge my mother’s signature?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know it wasn’t real?”
Voss closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Alexander walked away.
For decades, Richard Reed had been the injured husband.
The abandoned spouse.
The father who raised Alexander alone.
Now every memory carried another possible meaning.
Voss whispered, “Richard loved her.”
Alexander turned.
“No.”
“He did.”
“You don’t do this to someone you love.”
Voss looked older suddenly.
“Powerful men often believe love means ownership.”
That sentence followed Alexander out of the building.
Outside, Elena tried to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Alexander stared toward the parking lot.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“He helped hide it.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe more.”
Elena said nothing.
Alexander’s phone rang.
Victoria.
He almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Alexander.”
Her voice was shaking.
“My father knows you spoke to Voss.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does he want?”
“He’s destroying papers.”
Alexander stopped.
“What papers?”
“I’m at his apartment.”
“Victoria, get out.”
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
“I found a ledger.”
Alexander’s heart slammed.
May you like
“What does it say?”
Victoria whispered, “Orpheus.”
