Chapter 8: The Money That Disappeared Before the Funeral
The first breakthrough came from a bank statement.
The second came from a woman who had been too frightened to speak for seven years.
Three days after the hospital released Mariana's statement, Andrés called me into his office.
He had arranged the documents across a conference table, separating them into neat piles.
“Sit down, Gabriel.””
I sat.
“What have you found?””
He tapped the bank statements.
“Your first wife's account contained a series of transfers in the months before her death. Some were authorized. Others require further investigation. We cannot conclude from the statements alone that money was stolen.””
I nodded.
“What's unusual about them?””
“Several transfers went to a business associated with Patricia's family. The business records show that the account received money under descriptions that don't match the company's stated activities.””
“Can we prove Patricia controlled the account?””
“Not yet. We need the bank's records and documentation showing who initiated the transactions.””
He slid another page toward me.
“This transfer occurred six weeks before Mariana died. It was made from her personal account to a company account connected to your sister-in-law.””
I looked at the amount.
It was more than I had earned in several months of driving.
“What was it for?””
“The transfer description says household renovation.””
I frowned.
“We didn't renovate anything that year.””
“That's why we're investigating it.””
I leaned back in my chair.
“Could Mariana have authorized it?””
“Yes. That's one possibility. Another is that someone used an authorization she had previously provided for a different purpose. We won't know until the bank supplies the underlying documentation.””
I appreciated Andrés's caution, even though every unanswered question felt like another stone pressing against my chest.
He turned to a separate folder.
“There's also the matter of the statement Patricia allegedly withheld. The hospital's internal review is examining how it was handled. We've asked for the names of everyone who accessed the file.””
“Will they give us that information?””
“They may, subject to the applicable rules. If not, the appropriate authorities can determine what is available.””
I looked at the papers.
“What's our next step?””
“Follow the evidence. Don't confront Patricia about every new discovery. If she has documents, we want them preserved, not destroyed in a confrontation.””
I nodded.
When I left the office, I called Sofia.
She answered on the second ring.
“Dad?””
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?””
“Better. Elena made pancakes.””
“Did she burn them?””
“No!””
I could hear my sister protesting in the background.
Sofia laughed.
It was the first time I had heard her laugh freely since I came home.
“I'll be back soon,” I told her.
“Okay. Dad?””
“Yes?””
“Are you still looking into Mom's letter?””
“Yes.””
“Do you think we'll find out what happened?””
I looked at the traffic moving through the intersection.
“I think we'll find more answers. And we'll deal with them together.””
She was quiet for a moment.
“Okay. I love you.””
“I love you too.””
When I arrived at Elena's house, Sofia was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing in a sketchbook. She had drawn a large dining table with five chairs around it.
I noticed that one chair stood slightly apart from the others.
“What's this?”” I asked.
She turned the page toward me.
“It's our family.””
I studied the drawing.
“Why is one chair over there?””
She looked down.
“I'm not sure where I belong yet.””
I pulled out a chair and sat beside her.
“You belong with the people who treat you with care and respect.””
She nodded.
Then she returned to her drawing.
That afternoon, Andrés called again.
He had obtained a preliminary response from the bank. One transfer had been authorized using credentials associated with Mariana's account, but the bank had identified a discrepancy in the supporting documentation.
The authorization form bore Patricia's name as the person who submitted the paperwork.
It did not prove fraud.
But it gave investigators a specific transaction to examine.
Andrés also told me that the hospital had confirmed Patricia's signature on the acknowledgment form relating to the supplementary statement.
The hospital had not yet established whether she had improperly caused the statement to be withheld. That question remained under review.
I was reading the email when my phone rang from an unfamiliar number.
A woman introduced herself as Claudia Reyes.
“I was a neighbor of yours when Mariana was alive,” she said.
I remembered the name. Claudia had lived two houses away and had occasionally watched Sofia when I needed to make an unexpected delivery.
“What can I do for you?””
“I heard you were asking questions about Mariana's death.””
I sat down.
“Who told you?””
“Someone from the old neighborhood. I don't want to gossip, Gabriel. But there's something I've regretted for years.””
“What is it?””
“I saw Patricia arguing with Mariana shortly before she went to the hospital.””
I closed my eyes.
“When?””
“The evening before the emergency.””
“Where?””
“At your house. I was returning from the grocery store when I heard voices through the open kitchen window.””
“What did you hear?””
Claudia hesitated.
“I heard Mariana say, 'You promised you wouldn't involve Sofia.'' Then Patricia said something about the money and the house.””
My heart began to pound.
“What exactly did Patricia say?””
“I can't remember every word. I remember her saying that she had done everything for your family and that she wasn't going to walk away with nothing.””
I gripped the phone.
“Did you tell anyone?””
“No. I was afraid of getting involved. After Mariana died, Patricia told people that they had argued because Mariana was jealous and unwell. I believed that perhaps I had misunderstood.””
“Did you see anything else?””
Claudia took a breath.
“I saw Patricia leave your house with a folder. She put it in her car and drove away. The next morning, you called to tell me Mariana had died.””
I stared at the wall.
“Why are you telling me now?””
“Because I saw Sofia at the pharmacy last week. She looked frightened. When I asked whether everything was all right, she said she was fine, but she couldn't stop looking over her shoulder.””
Claudia's voice broke.
“I remembered what I saw years ago, and I thought about how often people say nothing because they don't want trouble. I don't want to make the same mistake again.””
I thanked her and gave her Andrés's contact information so she could provide a formal account if she was willing.
When the call ended, I sat quietly.
Her recollection was not proof that Patricia had caused Mariana's death or taken money unlawfully. But it offered another lead for the investigation, and it supported the need to examine the missing documents.
That evening, I received a message from Patricia.
Come home. We need to settle this.
I didn't reply.
Ten minutes later, she called.
“Gabriel, please.””
Her voice sounded different.
Not angry.
Exhausted.
“I need to explain something about Mariana.””
I looked at the clock.
“Have you contacted Andrés?””
“Your lawyer? No.””
“Then anything concerning the medical records or finances can go through him.””
“This isn't about money.””
“What is it about?””
She hesitated.
“It's about what Mariana wanted.””
I closed my eyes.
“Patricia, the hospital has located her statement.””
Silence.
Then a whisper.
“You found it.””
“Yes.””
“And now you think you know everything.””
“No. I think there are questions that need answers.””
She began crying.
“Mariana was afraid of losing control. She thought I wanted to take Sofia away from her. She made me promise to help raise the child, but she never trusted me.””
“Why?””
“Because she thought I wanted your money.””
“Did you?””
“Gabriel, I loved you.””
“That doesn't answer the question.””
She inhaled sharply.
“I made mistakes. I won't deny that. But I never wanted Mariana to die.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“I didn't ask whether you wanted her to die.””
Patricia stopped crying.
The silence that followed was the loudest thing I had heard all day.
Finally, she said, “You should ask your sister what Mariana told her before she went to the hospital.””
I stared at the phone.
“What did Mariana tell Elena?””
“Ask her.””
Then Patricia hung up.
I drove to Elena's house that night.
My sister opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong.
“What happened?””
“Patricia told me to ask you what Mariana said before she went to the hospital.””
Elena's face drained of color.
I stepped inside.
“You know something.””
Elena closed the door.
“I know what Mariana told me. I don't know whether it explains everything.””
“Tell me.””
She sat at the kitchen table and folded her hands.
“Two days before she died, Mariana called me. She was frightened. She said Patricia had been asking her to sign documents relating to the house and the savings account.””
“What did she say about the documents?””
“She said she didn't understand why Patricia needed her signature. When she asked, Patricia told her that you had agreed to the arrangements.””
I sat opposite her.
“I never agreed to anything.””
“I know that now.””
Elena wiped her eyes.
“Mariana asked me to keep Sofia for a few days. She said she wanted time to speak to you privately, but she was afraid Patricia would find out.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because the next day, Patricia called to say Mariana had become seriously ill. Then everything happened so quickly. I was told the hospital had handled the paperwork, and you were devastated.””
She lowered her head.
“I was afraid that if I challenged Patricia, I might lose access to Sofia. I told myself I was waiting for the right moment.””
I stared at my sister.
The same excuse.
Different person.
The right moment.
A quieter day.
A safer time.
A chance when speaking would not upset anyone.
Meanwhile, Sofia had been left to face Patricia's cruelty alone.
I reached across the table.
“I'm not blaming you for what Patricia did.””
Elena looked up.
“But we can't keep letting fear make our decisions.””
She nodded.
“I know.””
“What else did Mariana tell you?””
Elena hesitated.
“She said she had made a copy of one of the documents and hidden it somewhere Patricia wouldn't look.””
“Where?””
“She didn't tell me. She said she would explain when she saw you.””
I leaned forward.
“Did she mention a blue folder?””
Elena shook her head.
“No. But she said there was a place in the house where you kept things that were important to you, things you rarely looked at.””
My mind returned to the cabinet where I had found Mariana's letter and the old financial records.
I had searched that cabinet repeatedly over the past week.
But there were other places.
The garage. The storage room. The small wooden chest beneath our old bed.
Then I remembered a cedar box Mariana had kept in her dressing room. After her death, Patricia had said it contained only old photographs and had moved it to the storage room.
I had never opened it.
I thanked Elena and drove home.
The house was dark when I arrived.
Patricia's car was parked outside, but the lights were off.
I entered quietly and went straight to the storage room.
The cedar box sat on the bottom shelf, beneath a stack of old blankets.
I carried it into the kitchen and opened the lid.
Inside were photographs, birthday cards, a silver bracelet, and several folded pieces of paper.
At the bottom lay a small envelope with a note written in Mariana's handwriting.
For Gabriel. If I cannot explain this myself.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a photocopy of a bank authorization form and a second document bearing Patricia's signature.
But it was the third page that stopped me.
It was a handwritten list of dates and amounts, followed by a sentence:
If anything happens to me, ask who benefited from the changes made to the house and the accounts.
I read the list carefully.
One date matched the large transfer Andrés had identified.
Another matched a document Patricia had signed shortly before Mariana's death.
And the final date was the day after the funeral.
Beside it, Mariana had written four words.
*The house was never hers.*
I stared at the sentence.
I had purchased the house years before marrying Patricia. The deed was in my name, and I had always assumed the matter was straightforward.
But the folder contained a photocopy of an application to alter the property's ownership.
The application had never been finalized.
At the bottom was a signature that appeared to be mine.
I had no memory of signing it.
And the date printed beside the signature was a day when I had been driving a truck hundreds of kilometers from León.
I photographed the document and called Andrés.
When I finished explaining, he was silent for several seconds.
“Do not confront her with that document,” he said.
“Bring it to my office tomorrow. We'll verify its authenticity and determine what happened.””
“I will.””
“Gabriel, this could be important, but don't assume the signature is forged until it has been examined.””
“I understand.””
I placed the documents back in the envelope.
Then I heard Patricia's voice behind me.
“What are you doing?””
I turned.
She stood in the doorway, wearing a dressing gown, her face pale.
Her eyes went straight to the cedar box.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked genuinely terrified.
“You weren't supposed to find that,” she whispered.
I held up the photocopy.
“What is this, Patricia?””
She stared at the paper.
May you like
Then she looked at me and said six words that changed everything.
“Your first wife wasn't the only one.””
