Chapter 3 - MY STITCHESI needed four stitches.
The emergency department doctor asked how it happened.
“My brother punched me.”
“At a funeral?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows went up.
Then professionalism returned.
Police had already been called by the funeral chapel.
I had not made that call.
The funeral director did.
Security footage from the chapel showed most of the incident clearly enough.
Julian reaching.
My hand blocking.
His fist.
Relatives restraining him.
No ambiguity about who hit whom.
The officer asked whether I wanted to make a report.
“Yes.”
That answer surprised me.
Old Elena would have said:
It’s family.
It was one punch.
He’s grieving.
Dad just died.
I had spent enough years repairing buildings to know what happens when structural cracks are painted over.
They remain cracks.
Julian was not arrested that evening.
Police reviewed the footage, witness statements, his location, and charging procedure.
Later, the prosecutor handled it appropriately.
No theatrical handcuffs beside Dad’s coffin.
No instant jail.
Process.
When I returned to Dad’s house that night, the safe had been temporarily sealed by agreement among Samuel, the bank investigators, and both executors.
Julian was gone.
Samuel remained.
So did Rachel.
She had copied only the initial inventory and taken nothing without documentation.
I sat across from Samuel.
“What did Dad suspect?”
He looked tired.
“Elena, I can tell you what he told me. I cannot tell you yet what is true.”
“Fine.”
“He believed there were transactions he had not authorized.”
My pulse changed.
“From where?”
“Business accounts initially.”
“Julian?”
Samuel did not answer.
“Did Dad accuse Julian?”
“He was uncertain.”
That mattered.
“Then why was Julian afraid?”
“You’re asking me to interpret your brother.”
“I’m asking what Dad knew.”
Samuel folded his hands.
“Thomas began noticing irregular vendor payments after he reviewed year-end records.”
“What kind?”
“Payments to companies he did not recognize.”
“How much?”
“I’m not giving you a total until the audit establishes one.”
I laughed.
“Is Daniel your cousin?”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
Too many accountants in my life.
Samuel continued:
“Your father initially assumed bookkeeping errors.”
“Reasonable.”
“Then he found a loan draw.”
“What loan?”
“Company line of credit.”
“How much?”
Samuel paused.
“Enough that he called me.”
That was not a number.
May you like
But it was enough to stop me asking.
For now.
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