He photographed several pages and arranged for the original to be secured.
Then he asked:
“Mrs. Parker, why didn't you turn this over years ago?”
My mother looked down.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Victor Price?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Of his father.”
Detective Harris went still.
“His father?”
My mother nodded.
“Richard Price.”
The detective's expression changed.
I noticed immediately.
“Who is Richard Price?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped outside and made a phone call.
When he returned, his face was grim.
“Richard Price died twelve years ago,” he said.
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“According to the records, he died in a boating accident.”
She stared at him.
“Then the records are wrong.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you saying?”
My mother looked directly at me.
“Richard Price was the man who threatened your father.”
She swallowed.
“And he's the man I saw outside my house yesterday.”
