It had taken me a week of reading through the paperwork before I realized that there were several names that kept popping up on my notepad. The two that seemed to be of the most importance were Jeremiah Bradley and Arnold Maxwell, founders of Bradley, Inc. Their names were vaguely familiar to me—at least Jeremiah Bradley’s was. Bradley, Inc. was one of the largest corporations in the world. Everyone had heard of it, even if they didn’t know exactly what it did. I knew my father had worked for the company as an inventor when I was growing up, but I hadn’t realized how close he had been to the founders. In fact, I’d never even heard of Arnold Maxwell before. I vaguely remembered my father talking about his old friend Arnold and how he’d wanted to have a long conversation with him, but I couldn’t really remember much else of what my father had said.
As I studied the different patents my father had been issued, I quickly came to the assumption that he had been the creative force behind much of Bradley, Inc.’s earliest success. In fact, if I was reading correctly, Bradley, Inc. was in fact started as Bradley, London & Maxwell, which indicated to me that my father wasn’t just an employee—along with Maxwell and Bradley, he had been an owner of the company.
It was when I found the dissolution papers and a contract stating that my father was taking back all of his patents that my heart started racing. The paperwork was dated a week before my mother’s death. I knew in my heart that it couldn’t have been a coincidence. Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear what happened next. Did my father sell his patents? How had Bradley and Maxwell responded to my father’s request? What did my father do after that? None of the papers in the box answered those questions. And the Internet was no help. I’d always found it funny that, with as much information as Google and other search engines held, they never held what you were really looking for. There were no trade secrets, no explanations of deathbed confessions. Only what people wanted to be found.
A search of Jeremiah Bradley turned up some old newspaper articles about his philanthropy, his corporation, and eventually his death a few years ago.
Searching the Bradley, Inc. website told me that the new CEO was Jeremiah’s first-born son, a man by the name of Mattias Bradley. However, the blurb was short and there was no other real information to be found on him anywhere. Not a photo to be seen. I thought it was strange, but I guess when you have that much money, it’s easy to remain private.
However, a search of Mattias Bradley did give me one lead. He had a younger brother. A brother who didn’t care so much about his privacy. A brother by the name of David Bradley. He was all over the Internet. A handsome man in his photographs, he had boyish good looks with differing lengths of dark brown hair and wide, expressive green eyes. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, aside from which party he was going to attend on any given weekend. I knew that if I wanted more information about what had happened to Bradley, London & Maxwell and more information about my mother’s death, I was going to have to gain access to Bradley, Inc. and their files. And David Bradley was going to be the one to get me that access. I just had to meet him.
*
“How are you feeling, Bianca?” Rosie squeezed my hand as she peered into my eyes with concern. It had been two weeks since I’d started going through my father’s papers and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to keep ignoring Rosie’s calls, so I’d asked her to lunch.
“Tired.” I tried to smile at her. “But okay.”
“You can’t just ignore my calls.” Rosie looked upset. “I know you like to deal with emotional stuff yourself, but I’m here for you, Bianca. No man is an island.”
“It’s a good thing I’m a woman, then,” I joked, and she shook her head.
“I can’t believe you took a leave of absence from work. Are they paying you?”
“I’m trying for FMLA, but I don’t know if that’s going to go through. I had two weeks’ paid vacation left, so I’m getting money from that.” I shrugged and Rosie sighed.
“What are you going to do for money?” she asked me hesitantly. Rosie hated talking about money. She thought it was uncouth. I frankly didn’t care either way. I’d never had much money to talk about so it didn’t bother me.
“Maybe the bank will lend me some as an act of good faith.” I attempted another joke, but Rosie didn’t laugh. “Or maybe I’ll get a job in a treasury and help myself to some of the cash, like Katie Holmes and Queen Latifah did.”
“They did what?” Rosie’s eyes widened in shock. “They robbed a bank?”
“Well, not technically robbed.” I shook my head. “It was Diane Keaton’s idea. She was the mastermind behind the—”
“Diane Keaton robbed a bank?” Rosie’s voice grew louder and I realized that she was taking my story for truth.
“Oh, not in real life. In that movie Mad Money.” I gave her a small smile. “The movie wasn’t that good, but maybe it works best as a tutorial. Here’s how to rob a treasury, but stop before you get too greedy.”
“Bianca,” Rosie said, sounding irritated, “I seriously thought you were telling me that Katie Holmes robbed a bank.”
“Who knows if she hasn’t in real life?” I shrugged.
She laughed and shook her head. A dazed look crept over her face and then she stared at me; I saw a bright light in her eyes. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” I asked her suspiciously.
“So there are two things you know better than anyone else I know. You know about Henry the Eighth and his wives, and you know movies.”