Chapter 4
The missing jewelry was not a rounding error.
Eleven pieces from Elise’s estate could not be located.
Combined appraised value:
$486,000.
Four had been in Cecily’s possession.
She returned three after Grace sent formal demand letters.
The fourth—a Cartier watch Elise’s father gave her when she graduated college—had already been sold through a New York dealer.
Cecily claimed she believed it belonged to the Mercer family.
The dealer’s paperwork undermined that.
Cecily represented herself as owner.
Sale price:
$62,000.
She deposited the money into her personal account.
Rafferty did not call her.
Grace prohibited it.
“Documents first.”
“I hate documents.”
“You’re learning.”
The sapphire necklace was returned to Blythe’s estate trust.
The silver necklace never left Blythe again.
But Rafferty started noticing a pattern in what had been taken.
Not the most valuable pieces.
Some expensive items remained untouched.
Instead, Honora and Cecily had removed objects stored in boxes.
Cases with fabric linings.
Presentation rolls.
A watch box with a false lower tray.
Grace noticed too.
“Did Elise hide things?”
Rafferty almost smiled.
“Receipts.”
“What?”
“She hated digital-only records.”
Elise had kept warranty cards, handwritten notes, jeweler certificates, and tiny envelopes inside cases.
Sometimes irritatingly.
“She once made me keep a restaurant receipt for six years because it was the night we decided to have Blythe.”
Grace looked at the missing-item list.
“So someone taking the object might also be taking whatever paper came with it.”
Rafferty’s expression changed.
The country-club document had been under the velvet lining.
Not beside the jewelry.
Under it.
Whoever threw the box apparently did not know.
Or thought it had already been checked.
Grace refused to go further without evidence.
They obtained access records from Rafferty’s estate room.
Honora entered four times.
Cecily six.
Always with household-administrator permissions.
Those permissions came from Rafferty himself.
Years earlier.
Before Elise got sick.
He had never revoked them.
“Why did they have access?”
Grace asked.
“Mom coordinated insurance inventories.”
“And Cecily?”
“Helped with family events.”
Grace stared.
“Why does helping with events require access to your dead wife’s estate storage?”
“It doesn’t.”
Exactly.
Then the club’s planned sale revealed another financial problem.
Honora had personally guaranteed a $7.4 million credit facility used to renovate Briar Crest.
The Longfield closing would pay it off.
Cecily had borrowed $5.8 million against expected redevelopment distributions to expand her luxury event business.
Her lender had already extended twice.
If the sale failed, both women faced significant losses.
Not poverty.
Consequences.
Honora owned a valuable home and investments.
Cecily had real businesses.
But the sale was the exit they had built their finances around.
Then Rafferty found a message from Honora sent six weeks earlier.
Not to him.
To Cecily.
Get the rest of Elise’s personal pieces sorted before Longfield diligence. I don’t want loose estate questions after closing.
Cecily replied:
I’m working through them.
Working through.
Not wearing.
Not dividing.
Working through.
Grace highlighted the phrase.
“Still not proof.”
Rafferty leaned back.
May you like
“But you hate it too.”
“I’m human after five.”
