Chapter 8 - The Next Morning
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the living room, casting warm geometric patterns across the hardwood floor. I was halfway through brewing a fresh pot of coffee when I heard the distinct sound of a power drill buzzing outside on the front porch.
I walked to the front door and looked through the sidelight window.
A local locksmith in a blue utility jumpsuit was standing on the porch, holding a brand-new deadbolt set. Behind him stood Grandma Eleanor, wearing her favorite gardening apron and directing him with the authority of a four-star general.
“Make sure the strike plate is seated flush, young man,” she instructed, pointing a pair of pruning shears for emphasis. “My son has a habit of trying to force things that don't belong to him, and I want this door secure enough to withstand a battering ram.”
I chuckled, grabbing a mug of coffee and pulling the door open.
“Good morning, locksmith,” I said.
“Morning, Daniel,” Grandma said brightly, looking decades younger than she had yesterday in the nursing facility lobby. “The locksmith is replacing every exterior lock on the house—front, back, and garage. I also called the security company to update our passcode and install exterior cameras.”
The locksmith looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Mrs. Mercer here doesn't mess around, son. Told me she wanted ‘Fort Knox level’ before noon.”
“And she’s right,” I agreed, leaning against the doorframe. “Did Maureen call from the bank yet?”
As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Maureen’s office number glowing on the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” I said, swiping to answer.
“Daniel? Eleanor?” Maureen’s voice came through, sounding both relieved and intensely busy. “I have an update. The compliance team successfully intercepted the remaining wire transfers. We’ve locked down the shell corporation’s accounts, and the prosecutor’s office just subpoenaed Arthur’s business records.”
Grandma stepped closer, her eyes fixed on my phone. “And the fifty-five thousand already withdrawn?”
“That’s the best part,” Maureen said, a triumphant note in her voice. “Because the transfer was flagged within twenty-four hours of execution under fraudulent power of attorney provisions, the receiving bank’s compliance division has placed a freeze on the disbursement funds. They’re being reversed back into your primary account as we speak, Eleanor.”
Grandma let out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders sagging in profound relief. She closed her eyes for a second, whispering something silent of gratitude, before straightening back up.
May you like
“Thank you, Maureen,” she said clearly into the speaker. “You’ve saved my life.”
“Just doing my job,” Maureen replied. “Though I think you might want to check your front porch in about ten minutes. The sheriff’s deputies just pulled into your cul-de-sac.”
