Chapter 3 - THE BANK ACCOUNT THAT DIDN'T EXIST
The following morning, I arrived at Bianchi Maritime Holdings.
The headquarters occupied twelve floors of a restored warehouse overlooking the Delaware River.
Aurelio's family had operated ships, docks, warehouses, and construction businesses in Philadelphia for three generations.
Some operations were legitimate.
Others carried the kind of rumors people lowered their voices to discuss.
I knew the difference mattered.
I also knew I needed a paycheck.
Miriam met me in the lobby.
“You'll be working with an outside forensic accounting firm. Your job is to help identify the entries you recognized.”
She handed me a confidentiality agreement.
I read every page.
Twice.
Then signed.
The accountants had already begun reviewing bank statements, transaction logs, and the investment appendix.
A woman named Dana Mercer led the team.
She was forty-five, wore square glasses, and had the expression of someone who trusted numbers more than people.
She examined me.
“You're the waitress?”
“Yes.”
“Three years of accounting classes?”
“Yes.”
“Then let's see what you noticed.”
We spent four hours matching records.
The first suspicious transfer had left a Bianchi construction account.
It moved through an intermediary company.
Then through another account.
Finally, a matching amount appeared in Crane's investment schedule.
But the account reference in the appendix had a problem.
It belonged to a company called Eastwater Advisory.
According to the documents, Eastwater had operated for eight years.
According to the corporate registry, it had been incorporated only four months earlier.
Dana stared at the screen.
“Well.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“That's interesting.”
I smiled.
“Accountants say that when something is terrible, don't they?”
She laughed.
“Usually.”
Then she pulled another record.
Eastwater's registered agent was a law firm.
The law firm's billing contact was a company called Vantage Property Services.
And Vantage's authorized financial representative was—
Victor Sloane.
I stared at the name.
The man who had called my observation a coincidence.
The man who had managed Aurelio's finances for fourteen years.
Dana slowly removed her glasses.
“We need to tell Miriam.”
My stomach tightened.
Because suddenly I understood something.
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The theft had not merely happened beneath Victor's supervision.
The records suggested he might have helped conceal it.
