Chapter 11 - THE NEIGHBOR’S CLAIM
A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
I looked at Arthur Pendelton. His neatly combed white hair and khaki trousers made him look like the quintessential friendly neighbor. But his eyes were hard, calculating.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arthur,” I said, forcing my voice to remain perfectly flat.
Arthur chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He leaned his rake against the fence.
“Come now, Claire,” he said, taking a step onto our grass. “Diane and I had an arrangement. She came to me crying twenty years ago when your father got in over his head with Thorne. She asked me to help hide the cash.”
I gripped the railing tighter. “You’re lying. Dad hid the cash to protect David.”
“Your father thought he did,” Arthur smirked. “But your mother knew Thorne would tear the house apart looking for it. So she gave it to me to hold. In exchange for… well, let’s just say Diane and I were very close back then.”
I felt physically sick. The photograph in my pocket suddenly felt like a lead weight.
“But then,” Arthur continued, his voice dropping to a low growl, “your father got suspicious. He stole the money back from me and hid it in that cellar. I want it back, Claire. It’s my retirement.”
“It’s Thorne’s money,” I snapped. “And it’s gone.”
“Don’t lie to me, little girl,” Arthur snarled, taking another step forward. The friendly neighbor facade completely shattered. “I saw Thorne’s men leave empty-handed last night. I know the money is still in that house. You bring me that tin box, or I’ll tell Thorne exactly where his cash went.”
“If you tell Thorne, you admit you had it,” I shot back. “He’ll kill you, too.”
Arthur’s face flushed red with anger. “Bring me the box, Claire. Tonight. Or I’ll tell Melissa who really called Thorne and tipped him off about her little loan.”
My heart stopped.
“You did?” I whispered.
Arthur smiled cruelly. “She was an easy mark. Tell her I’ll be over at 8 PM.”
He turned and walked back to his house.
I stood on the porch, trembling with rage. I turned and walked back inside, locking the temporary wooden barricade I’d built over the door.
Melissa was sitting at the kitchen table, helping Leo with a puzzle. Mom was in her chair, knitting. They looked so peaceful. So safe.
I walked into the kitchen and slammed the rusty tin box onto the table.
Melissa jumped. “Claire? What’s wrong?”
Mom dropped her knitting. She stared at the tin box, all the color draining from her face.
“Arthur Pendelton just threatened me,” I said, staring directly at my mother. “He said he tipped Thorne off about Melissa’s debt to force us to sell, so he could get the cash Dad buried.”
Melissa gasped. “Arthur? Why would Arthur do that?”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the torn photograph of Mom and Arthur holding hands, and slapped it onto the table next to the box.
“Because of this,” I said.
Melissa picked up the photo. She looked from the picture to Mom in shock.
Mom buried her face in her hands and began to cry.
“Mom,” I said firmly, but not unkindly. “No more lies. No more secrets. What is in this box, and why does Arthur want it so badly?”
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Mom looked up, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s not money, Claire,” she whispered. “Arthur doesn’t want money. He wants the deed to his own house.”
