Chapter 2
Rebecca Sloan arrived before midnight.
Salvatore had used her for legitimate corporate work for twelve years because she possessed one quality rare among people paid by powerful men.
She told him no.
Frequently.
She entered the study, took one look at the destroyed suit of armor, then at Edmund’s bruised face.
“I’m not asking.”
“Good.”
She put on gloves before touching the ledger.
Marina sat in a chair near the wall.
Edmund remained standing.
Rebecca turned pages slowly.
Gabriella’s handwriting covered most of them.
The entries appeared to reconcile payments from the Mancini Family Relief Foundation, a legitimate charitable entity funded by Salvatore and several family-controlled businesses.
The foundation paid medical bills, temporary housing, education grants, and survivor support for employees and dependents connected to Mancini companies.
Gabriella had served as volunteer treasurer for six years.
Edmund had been senior adviser to the foundation board.
Marina handled administrative coordination after Gabriella became sick.
Rebecca stopped at a page marked with a yellow tab.
“Who is M.R.?”
Edmund answered.
“Maria Russo. Widow of a warehouse manager.”
Rebecca looked at Salvatore.
“Official payment?”
He called his accountant.
Within ten minutes they had it.
Foundation records showed Maria Russo received $18,000 in emergency housing support.
Gabriella’s ledger said:
Approved: 18,000. Recipient confirms: 7,500. Difference: 10,500.
Another entry.
Official:
$12,000.
Recipient confirmed:
$5,000.
Another.
Official:
$25,000.
Recipient confirmed:
$9,000.
Salvatore looked at Edmund.
“You were stealing from widows?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
“I did not take that money.”
Marina jumped in.
“The foundation had administrative expenses.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Administrative expenses do not usually appear as beneficiary payments.”
Marina went quiet.
Salvatore kept turning pages.
The pattern covered nearly eighteen months.
Not every payment.
Maybe one in six.
Enough to total several hundred thousand dollars.
Then he noticed the initials beside the questionable entries.
Sometimes E.M.
Edmund Mancini.
Sometimes M.M.
Marina Mancini.
Sometimes G.M.
Gabriella.
His dead wife.
Salvatore’s expression changed.
“You think Gabriella was involved?”
Edmund replied too quickly.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You thought it.”
“No.”
Rebecca interrupted.
“Stop.”
Everyone looked at her.
She tapped Gabriella’s first note.
If the official books say I authorized these, check where I was that day.
Rebecca looked at Salvatore.
“She wasn’t tracking missing money only.”
“What was she tracking?”
“Authorization.”
That distinction mattered.
Someone had not merely moved foundation funds.
Someone had been attaching names to the decisions.
Including Gabriella’s.
Rebecca closed the ledger.
“Nobody destroys anything. Nobody accesses foundation records without preservation.”
Marina shifted.
Edmund said, “You are turning internal accounting errors into a criminal investigation.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“A man struck a three-year-old while demanding this book.”
May you like
She placed both hands on the ledger.
“I think we passed accounting error several hours ago.”
