Chapter 9: The Man Who Sold My Mother's Jacket
Dad called Mr. Collins immediately.
The neighbor answered on the fourth ring.
"Marcus? Everything all right?""
Dad looked at the document.
"No. We need to talk about the jacket you bought today.""
There was a pause.
Then Mr. Collins laughed awkwardly.
"Oh, that. Your wife said it was part of the sale.""
"My wife didn't own that jacket.""
Another silence.
"Well, I didn't know that.""
"That's not why I'm calling. I want you to come over.""
"Now?""
"Now.""
Mr. Collins hesitated.
"I have somewhere to be.""
Dad's voice hardened.
"Then cancel it.""
He ended the call.
Daniel was pacing beside the kitchen window.
"That signature is definitely connected to Sarah's original trust registration.""
Dad turned toward him.
"How?""
"Because I watched him sign the first set of documents.""
"Who is he?""
"His name is Peter Collins. He worked as a property registration agent before he retired.""
I frowned.
"But he's our neighbor.""
Daniel nodded.
"That's why I never suspected him.""
I remembered Mr. Collins from childhood.
He had always been friendly.
He gave me chocolate on Halloween and helped Dad repair the garden fence.
When Mom was alive, he often stopped by to borrow tools.
I had never imagined he could be involved in anything like this.
The doorbell rang.
Dad walked to the front door.
Mr. Collins stood outside wearing a brown jacket and holding a small plastic shopping bag.
"Marcus.""
He looked past Dad.
Then his eyes landed on Daniel.
His smile disappeared.
"Oh.""
Dad stepped aside.
"Come in.""
Mr. Collins entered slowly.
His eyes moved across the room, taking in the police officer, the documents, and the open briefcase.
"What's all this?""
Dad pointed toward the dining table.
"Sit down.""
Mr. Collins remained standing.
"I'd rather not.""
Daniel approached him.
"Peter, why is your signature on the transfer document for Sarah's apartment?""
Mr. Collins frowned.
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
Daniel showed him the paper.
The neighbor glanced at it.
Then he looked away.
"That's an old document.""
"From eleven days after Sarah died.""
"Must be a mistake.""
Dad slammed his hand against the table.
"Enough.""
Mr. Collins flinched.
"You bought my wife's jacket today. You signed a property transfer involving her estate. And now you're telling me it's a mistake?""
Mr. Collins adjusted his collar.
"Rebecca asked me to help with some paperwork.""
I stepped closer.
"What paperwork?""
He looked at me.
"Nia, this is between adults.""
I felt my cheeks burn.
"No. My mother's belongings are being sold, my name has been removed from property documents, and someone has taken money from my inheritance. This is very much my business.""
He looked uncomfortable.
Daniel pulled out a chair.
"Sit down, Peter.""
This time, Mr. Collins obeyed.
Dad placed the photograph of Mom outside the apartment building in front of him.
"Did you know Sarah owned this property?""
Peter stared at it.
"Yes.""
"Did you help transfer it?""
He nodded slowly.
"Rebecca told me Sarah wanted it sold.""
"Did you see Sarah sign anything?""
"No.""
"Did you see me authorize anything?""
Peter looked down.
"No.""
Dad's voice became quieter.
"Then why did you sign the paperwork?""
Mr. Collins rubbed his hands together.
"Rebecca said there was a power of attorney.""
Daniel immediately leaned forward.
"Whose power of attorney?""
"Marcus's.""
Dad shook his head.
"I never gave Rebecca authority to sell anything Sarah owned.""
Mr. Collins swallowed.
"She showed me a document.""
"Where is it?""
"I don't know.""
"Peter.""
"I don't know!""
The police officer stepped forward.
"Sir, I need you to answer carefully. Did you knowingly sign a document that you knew contained false information?""
Peter looked at the floor.
"I was paid to witness a signature.""
The room went silent.
Dad stared at him.
"Paid by whom?""
"Rebecca.""
"How much?""
"Five thousand dollars.""
I felt sick.
Five thousand dollars.
That was apparently what my mother's home and memories were worth to the people who had once sat at our dinner table.
Daniel opened his briefcase.
"Do you still have the payment receipt?""
Peter shook his head.
"No.""
"Bank record?""
"I was paid in cash.""
Dad stood.
"Where did the money come from?""
Peter hesitated.
Then he looked at me.
"Your mother's old lawyer.""
Daniel froze.
"Arthur?""
Peter nodded.
"Arthur Whitaker came to my house last year. He told me Rebecca was handling the estate and that the transfer had to be completed before the trust became active.""
Daniel shook his head.
"That's impossible. The trust was already registered.""
Peter looked confused.
"That's what I thought.""
"Then why did you help?""
Peter reached into his pocket and removed a folded paper.
"Because Arthur showed me this.""
He placed it on the table.
It was a copy of a document bearing my mother's signature.
The document stated that the original trust agreement had been revoked.
Dad stared at it.
"That's Sarah's signature.""
Daniel examined it.
Then he shook his head.
"No.""
Peter frowned.
"What?""
Daniel pointed to the bottom.
"Look at the date.""
The document was dated two weeks after Mom's death.
Dad slowly looked up.
"Sarah couldn't have signed it.""
Peter's face drained of color.
"I didn't know that.""
Daniel took the document and held it toward the light.
"There's another problem.""
He pointed to the signature.
"The handwriting is wrong.""
Dad frowned.
"How can you tell?""
"Sarah always signed her name with a small mark beneath the final letter. She did it on every legal document.""
He turned the paper around.
There was no mark.
Peter began sweating.
"Arthur told me it was a replacement copy.""
Daniel looked at him.
"Arthur told you that Sarah had revoked a trust after she died?""
Peter closed his eyes.
"I didn't know.""
Dad asked the police officer to take a copy of everything.
Then he turned toward Peter.
"Why did you buy the jacket today?""
Peter looked ashamed.
"Rebecca called me this morning.""
"What did she say?""
"She told me to buy the jacket and take it away before you came home.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why?""
Peter looked at me.
"She said there was something sewn inside the lining.""
Daniel immediately grabbed the jacket from the chair.
"What?""
Peter nodded.
"She told me to look for a small envelope.""
Dad turned toward him.
"Did you find it?""
Peter hesitated.
Then he reached into the plastic shopping bag he had brought.
He removed the brown leather jacket.
"I didn't know what to do with this.""
He placed it on the table.
Daniel examined the lining.
Near the inside pocket, there was a small opening where the stitching had been loosened.
He carefully pulled at the fabric.
A tiny envelope slipped out.
My mother's handwriting was on the front.
*For Nia. Open only when the original deed is found.*
I reached for it.
Daniel stopped me.
"Wait.""
He examined the seal.
It was intact.
Dad looked at the police officer.
"Is there a problem with opening it?""
The officer shook his head.
"Not that I can see.""
I broke the seal.
Inside was a single photograph and a short handwritten note.
The photograph showed Mom sitting beside a man in a hospital room.
I recognized the man immediately.
Arthur Whitaker.
But he looked much younger.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
The day before Mom died.
And beneath it, my mother had written:
Arthur knows who took the deed. If he comes looking for it, don't trust him.
I looked at Daniel.
"Why would Mom warn us about her own lawyer?""
Daniel's expression was grim.
"Because she discovered he had been stealing from her.""
Dad looked at Peter.
"Where can we find Arthur?""
Peter slowly raised his head.
"I know where he lives.""
Daniel stepped closer.
"Tell us.""
Peter swallowed.
"He's been staying at the old Whitaker family estate.""
Dad grabbed his keys.
"Then we're going there.""
But Peter shook his head.
"You can't.""
"Why not?""
Peter looked directly at me.
"Because Arthur isn't the person who has the original deed.""
He paused.
"Your mother gave it to someone else before she died.""
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Who?""
Peter looked at Dad.
Then at Daniel.
Finally, he whispered a name.
"Your grandmother.""
My grandmother had been dead for six years.
May you like
And according to the next document Peter pulled from his bag, she had left something behind that nobody in our family knew existed.
*A second will.*
