The October List

father died last year, he and his siblings were going to put the family home on the market but they decided they had to fix the place up first. Charles would go up there every few months to work on it. It’s still being renovated.’
    ‘Whose name was it under?’
    ‘It was a trust the lawyers named something like One Oh Nine Bedford Road Trust.’
    ‘The police might not have heard about it yet.’
    She continued, ‘I’ve seen pictures. It’d be perfect to hide money – it’s old, two hundred years. And has dozens of rooms and a huge basement. How big is a million dollars?’
    Daniel laughed. ‘I wouldn’t know. My clients use wire transfers. But it’s probably not as big as you’d expect. Where is the house?’ he asked.
    ‘Near Ridgefield, Connecticut. In the western part of the state, near the New York border.’
    ‘I know it. We could get up there and back in time before the deadline.’ We can take my car. I garage it a couple blocks from here.’ But then he frowned and asked, ‘Is the phone up there still working?’
    ‘I don’t know. Why?’
    ‘You better try it first, before we show up.’
    ‘Why? You think Charles’s hiding there? The police traced him to the Caribbean.’
    ‘No,’ Daniel said. ‘I think the police might be there.’
    ‘Oh. Of course.’ She lifted her mobile.
    But Daniel stopped her, pointing to a pay phone in the back of the shop.
    ‘You think they’re tracing incoming calls?’ she asked.
    ‘I’m way past paranoia at this point.’
    She rose and walked to the phone, lifted the receiver and fed in some coins. Two minutes later she was back at the table, scooting the chair next to him.
    She offered a rueful look. ‘Good decision, Daniel.’
    ‘Who answered?’ he asked.
    ‘Detective Holloway. Connecticut State Police. I said it was a wrong number and hung up.’ Gabriela sighed and her body seemed to collapse in on itself. Daniel wasn’t much taller than she was – maybe three inches – but she was so diminished at the moment that he seemed to tower over her. Her head was tilted downward. ‘That was our last chance … Oh, Sarah …’ she muttered. ‘What am I going to do, Daniel? If we don’t get that money …’
    But then she fell silent and cocked her head. ‘Wait, wait …’ She plowed once more through the documents spread out before them.
    ‘What? You look like a wolf going after a sheep.’
    Her dark fingernail underlined some entries on a business form. ‘These are accounts of non-deductible expenses that Charles had. Personal accounts. I never paid any attention to them before because they didn’t have anything to do with the business.’ Reading through the documents again, Gabriela pointed to some entries. ‘He spent close to a hundred thousand at jewelry and department stores last year. Some of the items he had delivered to an address on Madison Avenue, a woman named Sonia Dietrich.’
    ‘Who is she?’
    ‘I never heard of her. I know Charles dated some but he never mentioned who he was seeing. No woman ever came by the office.’ Perusing the balance sheets and ledgers again. ‘Hell, he did more than buy her presents. He wrote dozens of checks to her too. A hundred thousand, a little more.’
    ‘And maybe gave her some cash.’
    ‘It could be,’ she said excitedly. ‘She might have the missing million.’
    Daniel asked, ‘Would she have left the country with him?’
    Gabriela said, ‘Considering he’s a wanted man, Charles’s probably the last person she’d want to be seen with. Women like her have a sixth sense. Survival, you know.’
    He’d noted a certain tenor. ‘Like her ? I thought you didn’t know her.’
    ‘Intuition,’ she said dryly.
    ‘How should we handle it?’ he asked.
    ‘I could call and tell her …’ She debated. ‘No, how’s this? I could tell her the police are looking for people connected with Charles. He wanted me to pick up anything he left with her, to keep her in the clear.’
    ‘Including a large satchel of hundred-dollar bills? I don’t think that’ll work.’
    ‘No, I suppose not. Well, how about this ? I’ll tell her if I don’t get the money I’m going to the police and reporting that she’s been hiding stolen money for him. What do they call that?’
    ‘Bagman.’
    ‘I’ll tell those detectives she’s a bagman. Well, bagwoman. I get the five hundred thousand and she doesn’t go to jail.’
    ‘I like that a lot better.’
    Stuffing a crumpled napkin into his cup,