Then my eyes moved toward the kitchen cupboard.
The cardinal mug was sitting exactly where I had left it.
The Secret Hidden in the Cardinal Mug
I reached for the mug.
Something rattled inside.
Turning it upside down, I watched a small leather notebook slide into my hand.
My pulse quickened.
I carried it to the kitchen table and opened the cover.
The first entry was dated four years earlier.
Mrs. Harper had written that Greg had demanded the deed to one of her duplexes. When she refused, he took her checkbook and forged a check.
The next entry described a phone call in which he pretended to represent her bank and attempted to obtain her personal information.
There were more entries.
Missing checks.
Unauthorized withdrawals.
Threats disguised as concern.
Attempts to pressure her into changing ownership documents.
Each page included dates, amounts, account numbers, and names of possible witnesses.
Mrs. Harper had not been confused.
She had not been helpless.
She had known exactly what Greg was doing, and she had quietly documented everything.
Near the final pages, the handwriting became less steady, but the details remained precise.
Then I reached the last entry.
If you have found this notebook, Greg has probably approached you too.
Do not sign anything.
Take this directly to Samuel.
I closed the notebook and pressed it against my chest.
Even after death, Mrs. Harper was still looking after me.
I walked back outside.
Greg stood beside his car, tapping one shoe impatiently against the pavement.
“I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning,” I told him. “At Mr. Vance’s office.”
Greg smiled, believing he had won.
“I knew you would eventually be reasonable.”
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