Chapter 2 - The Signature
“What police?” Vanessa demanded.
Martin kept his eyes on me. “The detectives requested that we preserve the original paperwork. They asked that no one touch the safe.”
Daniel stepped forward. “Martin, whatever you think you found, we can discuss it upstairs.”
“No,” I said. “We discuss it where you made a spectacle of me.”
Vanessa laughed too quickly. “You can't seriously be accusing your own son of something.”
I opened the envelope. The first page was a request to transfer controlling interest in the hotel to a holding company called Harbor Crown Ventures. The second bore my name, written in a hand that was supposed to be mine.
My signature has a distinctive loop in the H. The imitation looked like a nervous child drawing a fishhook.
“This document was submitted to our lender on Thursday,” Martin said. “The bank stopped the transfer after its compliance team called me.”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “It's a preliminary restructuring.”
“Then why does it say irrevocable?” I asked.
Vanessa reached for the page. I drew it away.
“It's business,” she snapped. “You never understood the expansion plan.”
“I built this hotel from an abandoned seaside property and thirty years of debt. Tell me what I don't understand.”
Her three friends had stopped pretending not to listen. The one filming lowered her phone.
Daniel finally met my eyes. “I was going to tell you when everything was finalized.”
I folded the paper. “That is exactly what I was afraid of.”
Martin cleared his throat. “There's another issue. A guest filed a complaint last night. Her belongings were removed from her suite without authorization.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Oh, that woman. She was making a scene.”
“The guest was a seventy-four-year-old widow,” Martin replied. “Her reservation was paid in full.”
Vanessa's mouth tightened. “We needed the suite for my friends.”
“We?” I asked.
Daniel whispered, “Vanessa.”
She rounded on him. “Don't start acting innocent now.”
The lobby went silent enough to hear the fountains trickling outside.
Martin slid a third sheet toward me. It carried the widow's name. Beneath it was a handwritten instruction: REMOVE HER IMMEDIATELY. AUTHORIZED BY D. HAYES.
May you like
Daniel stared at the handwriting. “I never wrote that.”
“Then,” Martin said, “someone is using your name, too.”
