Chapter 17: Where the Money Went

Marlo's POV

Tilly came to the Rusty Spoke at eleven on Wednesday, an hour before Dot unlocked the front.

Dot stood in the doorway with a bar towel over her shoulder and her arms crossed.

"No," she said.

"Please, Dot."

"You sat in my bar at Marlo's birthday and ate my wings. No."

"I need to talk to her."

"You need to talk to a lawyer, and I know a good one who isn't a cousin."

I was sitting at the end of the bar with coffee and a laptop, and I'd heard every word.

"Let her in," I said.

Dot turned and looked at me for a long moment.

Then she stepped aside, and Tilly came in with a manila folder held against her chest.

She hadn't done her hair, and she wore a plain gray sweatshirt I had never seen on her.

She stood in front of me and didn't sit.

"I'm recording this," I said, and set my phone on the bar with the screen up. "Say whatever you came to say."

Her eyes flicked to the phone and back.

"That's fair," she said.

She put the folder on the bar and slid it toward me.

"That's Davenport Sound's account. Beau set it up. He told me it was for my album, that he was investing in me."

I opened it.

The first page was a bank statement with the three hundred thousand arriving at 4:12 on the anniversary.

The second was a transfer out, in the early hours of Tuesday morning, to an account at a credit union in Franklin.

The name on the account was Marilyn Bledsoe.

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