Found Money - James Grippando [114]
“What are you, a handwriting expert?”
“No. But if you’re so sure it’s a phony, then what’s the downside to letting me lay the two side by side and compare?”
Amy clutched her purse. She didn’t feel threatened, but his tone had definitely challenged her. “All right.”
She unzipped her purse and removed an envelope. “This is a letter my mother wrote me when I was seven years old, at camp. As you’ll see, the handwriting is totally different.”
He took the letter a little too eagerly, embarrassed by the grab. He opened it and laid it beside the other letter, the one to his father. He didn’t really focus on what the letter to Amy said. Instead, he was checking the loops in the penmanship, noting the way the she dotted the letter “i” or crossed the letter “t.” He compared individual letters, groups of letters, words, and groups of words. He did all the things Norm had told him a handwriting expert would do. Finally, he looked up.
“I’m no expert, but I would say that these two letters were written by the same person.”
“It’s not even close.”
Ryan backed away in his chair. Her tone was getting hostile. “Look,” he said, trying to appeal to reason. “The penmanship in this letter to my father is a little shaky, I’ll grant you that. But they look very similar.”
“You think it’s similar because you want it to be similar.”
“I’d like to copy this and have an expert tell us one way or the other.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve worked at a law firm long enough to know that people hire experts who will tell them what they want to hear.”
“I’m just after the truth here.”
“You’re out to clear your father’s name.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” she said, raising her voice. “Marilyn Gaslow was my mother’s best friend. Your father raped her. And now, forty-six years later, you expect me to believe that Marilyn made it all up?”
“It’s right there in the letter. According to your mother, my father was convicted of a rape he never committed.”
“That’s why I say the letter’s a fraud. Why would my mother write a letter like that?”
“Because it’s the truth, that’s why.”
“It’s not the truth. If it were, your father would have told the whole world he had been falsely accused. Any normal human being would do everything possible to clear his name.”
“There was no need to clear his name. He was convicted as a juvenile and the record was sealed.”
She smiled sardonically. “How convenient. Marilyn works hard all her life, never so much as a hint of scandal in her life. But the very week of her presidential appointment, out pops a letter saying that she falsely accused a man of raping her.”
“I can’t account for the timing.”
“Well, I can. It’s a lie. It’s designed to hurt Marilyn. And it’s at the expense of my mother.”
“If it’s a lie, then why did my father send you two hundred thousand dollars?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“I believe my father sent you that money out of gratitude to your mother. She was Marilyn’s best friend. Marilyn confided in her and told her the rape never happened. Your mother did the right thing and wrote a letter to my dad, telling him just that. It finally gave my father the corroboration he needed to prove himself innocent.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Do you have a better explanation as to why my father would send you that kind of money right before he died?”
Amy glared, but she had no response.
Ryan said, “I didn’t think you did.”
Her voice shook with anger. “All right. I’ll play along with your little fantasy for a minute or two. Let’s say my mother wrote that letter. Let’s say Marilyn Gaslow falsely accused your father. Where in the hell did your father get the two hundred thousand dollars that he sent to me?”
“That’s a fair question,” he said softly. “And I’ll answer it on one condition. I want to make a copy of that letter you brought, so I can have an expert compare the two.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then I guess you’ll never know where the money came from.”
Amy paused. The letter she had brought contained nothing embarrassing or too personal. There was no guarantee Ryan would