Chapter 5 — Thirty Billion Under a Tin Roof

Ha did not immediately tell Mai about the dot. She needed to be sure before pushing seven people into a dispute.

Ha asked to review the camera image before seventeen minutes were lost. The technician recovered an audio clip, with no image: the voice of Ms. Nguyet saying "this sheet is for the group", then the voice of the gray shirted man replying "I'm just keeping it for you".

After hearing this, Mai cried. "Mom knew him."

"Knowing doesn't mean giving him the ticket."

Lower the loan amount. The man in the gray shirt named Man once lent Ms. Nguyet a loan to treat her son-in-law's illness. The contract stated that she must deliver all prizes if won within three years.

Lawyers said that provision could be invalid if applied to lottery tickets purchased with pooled money. But Man can use it to apply pressure.

Seven ticket contributors were invited to the cultural house. Some people are afraid of losing their jobs, some people want to receive their share immediately, some people say that Ms. Nguyet owes them money.

Hau, who had lost contact, suddenly appeared. He worked as a construction assistant in a neighboring province. He said Ms. Nguyet had sent him a photo of the ticket and told him to find Ha if anything happened.

Hau gave a voice message. Ms. Nguyet's voice said clearly: "The dotted sheet belongs to seven people. The flat sheet belongs to me. If I die, Mai will receive the flat sheet. But don't let Man take the group sheet."

Ha opened the book and compared the dots. The ticket in the envelope had no dots, meaning it was Ms. Nguyet's own ticket.

Mai breathed a sigh of relief, then collapsed again. The private ticket was an inheritance, but the unnotarized will could be disputed by her husband and his debts.

Ha advised Mai not to sign Vinh's papers. Mai said if she doesn't get the money, the house will be foreclosed.

"You can sue to keep your mother's share."

"The lawsuit took three years. Can the bank wait?"

Ha understands that winning the lottery is not a simple matter. It just makes people see the numbers more clearly.

Man went to the cultural house, brought the loan contract and said that the ticket belonged to him because Ms. Nguyet had given it to him as a hostage.

Ha asked if he had a ticket receipt record. Man gave a photo of the ticket before it rained. The right corner remains intact, the last number is 1.

The photo proves that the ticket was in Ms. Nguyet's hands, but does not prove that she gave it to Man.

The investigator took Man's phone for examination. Before leaving, Man whispered to Ha: "I think she left the money for her daughter. But she still owes a promise to seven people."

Ha asked what promise.

Man did not answer. He just looked at Hau, who was holding the phone tightly.

That night, Hau sent Ha a photo of the back of another ticket. On it is a series of bank account numbers and the word "roof fund".

Ms. Nguyet planned to use the lottery money to pay off the group's debt, but someone deleted this part from the will.

Ha gave a photo of the account number to the bank. The "roof fund" account was opened six years ago, but the account owner is in Ms. Nguyet's name alone. The deposits came from seven different phone numbers.

Banks cannot deliver money themselves. They only provide transaction history upon investigation order. During the three days before the drawing, there was a large transfer from Tan to the account, with the content "buy back the part".

Mai looked at the text and said her husband had asked her mother to contribute instead. Ms. Nguyet refused because Tan had taken money from the fund and not paid it back.

Ha realizes Tan has a motive, Vinh has access, Man has a loan contract. All three people may want the ticket, but no one can explain why the last number was overprinted.

Lower back to the kiosk, check the ticket machine. A former employee of Vinh showed her the printer slot with the cover removed. Inside is a decal with the ink supplier's code.

The supplier confirmed that Vinh once bought test ink, but did not know what to use it for. They also saved the receipt for delivering a roll of ink to Tan's address.

After listening, Mai sat down on the doorstep. "Tan said he just wanted to borrow money."

Ha replied: "Maybe he started with a loan. But people often go farther when they think they have no way back."

That evening, Tan called from an unknown number. He said he didn't take the ticket, but knew who changed the last number.

Ha asked where. Tan said: "Don't believe Man. He kept the paper private before Ms. Nguyet got in the car."

The call was cut off. Under the kiosk door is a piece of paper: "Tomorrow, bring the envelope to the old bridge if you want to hear the whole story."

Ha did not bring the envelope to the bridge. She brought a tape recorder, alerted the investigator and asked Nhi to stand twenty meters away. The old bridge is located at the foot of the dam, at night there is only the sound of water hitting the concrete pillars and the yellow light from the highway.

Tan appeared at eleven seventeen. He was thinner than in the photo Ha saw at the bus station, his shirt was soaked, his right hand was wrapped in bandages. He looked around before stepping closer.

“I can't stay long,” Tan said. “If they know I'm alive, you'll never see the ticket again.”

“Who are they?”

Tan took a small notebook from his pocket and placed it on the railing. Each page contains the date, amount, and a dot or dash symbol. "Mrs. Nguyet bought two sheets. The individual sheet's last number is 1. The group sheet's last number is 7. But before giving it to her, Vinh told me to change the position of the two stems."

"Why?"

"So that when someone picks up the wallet, they only keep the group note. The separate note has been given to another person as collateral."

Ha remembered Man's words. “That person is him?”

Tan shook his head. "Min only collects debt. The person who took the separate note was a woman named Lan. She made a loan application for the dealership, then disappeared after the accident."

Tan opened his phone and showed Ha a photo of the capital contribution list. In the list, Lan's name is not there. But next to Ms. Nguyet's name is a small line: "If I don't come back, give my share to the roof fund."

“What is a roof fund?” Ha asked.

"Money to repair houses for seven families in the group. Ms. Nguyet set up a fund because she didn't want anyone to take all of her share. Vinh knew about that, but he wanted to turn the fund into a consulting fee."

A car light swept across the bridge. Tan was startled and hid the notebook. Ha looked towards the path: a small truck with the dealer logo was turning off the lights and rushing down the slope.

“You go,” Tan said. “I will keep them.”

“You are injured.”

“This mark is due to refusing to sign a fake ticket receipt.”

Tan jumped over the railing on the bank, disappearing among the reed bushes. Ha turned on the recorder, but Nhi pulled her to hide behind the bridge pillar. The car stopped at the beginning of the bridge. Vinh walked down with two men.

“Where is she?” Vinh asked.

One person replied: "Someone reported seeing her alone."

Vinh looked straight towards the bridge pillar, as if knowing Ha was there. "Ha, I don't want to make things difficult for you. Just say that the ticket is Ms. Nguyet's private ticket. The group of seven people does not exist."

Ha was silent. Vinh called and put it on speakerphone. Duy's voice rang out, choked with fear: "Sister, they are at our house."

Vinh hung up the phone and signaled the other person to get in the car. Ha was about to rush out, but Nhi held her wrist tightly and pointed at the recorder screen: a small red light was flashing.

“We have enough to lure them into a trap,” Nhi whispered. “But there must be Proof that the group really exists.”

When the car left, Ha ran home. The door was pried open, the furniture was ransacked, but the sealed envelope was still in the safe. Duy sat on the floor, his lip torn, his hand holding Ms. Nguyet's old metal box.

“They asked for this,” Duy said.

In the box were seven small keys, each engraved with a number. Key number seven was stained with fresh blood.