My Mother Recognized My Fake Fiance From an Autumn Night Five Years Ago
I pulled the first document out of the folder. It was the copy of the police report with the deputy’s signature. I laid it flat in front of my father.
“The accident happened at ten past nine on an October night,” I said. “The deputy wrote that Christopher’s car was moving. But the damage report from the Clarion garage shows Christopher’s front bumper was untouched.”
My father squinted at the paper. “The garage is thirty miles away.”
“Because mother couldn’t have the local mechanics see the side of her car,” I said.
My mother remained standing, her hand still gripping her pearls. “Cars get repaired where there is an opening. It means nothing.”
“The repair shop receipt is dated three days after the crash,” I said. “And the amount was paid in cash. Six thousand four hundred dollars.”
“We have savings,” my mother said.
“You didn’t use savings,” I said. “You used a cashier’s check from the local bank where you serve on the board.”
I pulled the second paper from the folder. It was the signed insurance release form showing the payoff of forty-five thousand dollars.
