Chapter 7 - The Man Who Knew Too Much
At 9:40 the next morning, I was sitting in Detective Ortiz's unmarked car across the street from Whitcomb Holdings.
I wasn't alone.
Naomi had insisted on that.
So had Ortiz.
The office occupied the top four floors of a glass tower overlooking downtown Hartford.
Sterling had purchased the building seven years earlier and renamed it after himself.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
A man trying to take my mother's inheritance had built his empire using her family name.
"Do you think he knows we're here?" I asked.
Ortiz watched the entrance.
"Probably."
"Then why are we doing this?"
"Because someone asked you to come, and we're going to establish who's waiting."
At 9:52, Thatcher appeared outside the building.
He wore yesterday's trousers and a wrinkled white shirt.
His hair was uncombed.
He looked as though he hadn't slept.
He stood near the revolving doors, checking his phone.
Ortiz touched his radio.
"Visual on the brother."
I watched Thatcher.
A black sedan pulled up.
Two men got out.
One wore a dark suit.
The other carried a leather briefcase.
They approached Thatcher.
I recognized the man with the briefcase.
Charles Fenwick.
Sterling's attorney.
Thatcher shook his head.
Fenwick said something.
Thatcher stepped backward.
Then the man in the dark suit placed a hand on his shoulder.
"That's Conrad Hale," I said.
Ortiz watched.
"Who?"
"Sterling's security director."
The three men entered the building.
My phone rang.
Thatcher.
Ortiz nodded for me to answer.
"Hello?"
"Kalista, I'm upstairs."
"Where?"
"Sterling's conference room."
"Are you alone?"
A pause.
"Yes."
I looked at Ortiz.
He shook his head.
"Thatcher, I'm not coming upstairs until you come down and speak to me."
"Please."
"Come outside."
"I can't."
"Why?"
Another pause.
Then his voice changed.
"Because they have the ledger."
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
"Who?"
"Sterling."
"Then bring it down."
"He won't let me."
I watched the building.
"Thatcher, leave the office."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"Kalista—"
A sound interrupted him.
Someone opening a door.
Then he whispered, "They're coming."
The call ended.
I turned to Ortiz.
"We have to go in."
He was already reaching for his radio.
"Not without a lawful basis. But I can request a welfare check and ask him to come out voluntarily."
Ten minutes later, two uniformed officers entered the building.
They returned without Thatcher.
The front desk had been told he wasn't available.
Ortiz spoke with building security.
Then he returned to the car.
"Sterling's lawyer claims your brother is meeting with counsel voluntarily."
"He's lying."
"Maybe. But your brother has to say otherwise."
I stared at the tower.
Through the glass, people walked across the lobby carrying coffee cups and briefcases.
Life continued.
Nobody knew what might be happening upstairs.
Then my phone rang again.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice.
"Is this Kalista Whitcomb?"
"Yes."
"My name is Diana Mercer."
I straightened.
Sterling's assistant.
"What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you."
"About my mother?"
"About the documents."
I looked at Ortiz.
"Where are you?"
"Across town."
"Why are you calling?"
Her voice trembled.
"Because I made a terrible mistake."
I gripped the phone.
"Did you send the forged authorization?"
"Yes."
"Did Sterling tell you to?"
A long silence.
Then she said, "I was told it was a corrected copy."
"Corrected from what?"
"An unsigned draft."
I closed my eyes.
"Diana, my mother was unconscious."
"I know that now."
"You knew it then."
"No."
Her voice broke.
"I knew she was in the hospital. I didn't know how badly she was hurt."
I looked at Ortiz.
He held out his hand.
I placed the phone on speaker.
"Diana, Detective Ortiz is here with me."
She made a small sound.
"Please don't hang up," I said.
"I can't lose my job."
"Someone forged my mother's signature."
"I didn't sign it."
"Who did?"
Silence.
Then she whispered, "I don't know."
Ortiz leaned forward.
"Ms. Mercer, this is Detective Samuel Ortiz. If you have information about falsified documents, we'd like to speak with you. We can arrange a neutral location."
"I can't come downtown."
"Why not?"
"Because Mr. Whitcomb knows everything that happens there."
"Then we'll meet somewhere else."
She hesitated.
"There's a diner on Route 44."
"Which diner?"
"The Silver Spoon."
"Can you be there at eleven?"
"Yes."
"Come alone if you feel safe doing so. If anyone threatens you, call 911."
She agreed.
Then she said one more thing.
"Detective?"
"Yes?"
"Ask Kalista why her mother fired the bookkeeper."
I stared at the phone.
"What bookkeeper?"
"The one who disappeared last spring."
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Ortiz looked at me.
"Did your mother fire a bookkeeper?"
"Not that I know of."
"Does the name mean anything?"
"No."
He started the car.
"Then we have another question to answer."
At eleven, Diana Mercer entered the diner wearing oversized sunglasses and a gray coat.
She sat across from us in a corner booth.
Ortiz had brought a second investigator, Detective Angela Brooks, who explained Diana's rights and the purpose of the interview.
Diana took off her glasses.
Her eyes were red.
"I didn't know what Sterling was doing at first," she said.
"When did you become concerned?" Brooks asked.
"Last April."
"What happened in April?"
"An accountant named Martin Voss came to the office."
I looked up.
"Who was he?"
"An outside consultant. He'd been hired to reconcile the Westhaven development accounts."
"By Sterling?"
"No."
"Then who hired him?"
Diana looked at me.
"Your mother."
I felt a chill.
"Why?"
"She thought money was missing."
"How much?"
Diana swallowed.
"Thirty-one million dollars."
I stared.
Thirty-one million.
Not a bookkeeping error.
Not a missing receipt.
A fortune.
"Did Martin find it?"
"He found transfers to several companies. One of them was Harborlight Custodial Trust."
Naomi's warning echoed in my head.
Sterling expects his evidence to look better than yours.
"Where is Martin now?"
Diana shook her head.
"I don't know."
"When did you last see him?"
"April seventeenth."
"What happened?"
"He had a meeting with Sterling."
"And?"
"They argued."
"About what?"
"Martin said Sterling had been using restricted trust distributions to cover private financing obligations."
I looked at Ortiz.
He was taking notes.
"Did you hear Sterling respond?"
Diana nodded.
"He said Martin didn't understand the structure."
"And Martin?"
"He said he understood it well enough to take the records to Lenora."
"What happened next?"
Diana stared at her hands.
"Martin left the office."
"Then?"
"Two days later, Sterling told everyone Martin had resigned."
"Did he?"
"I never saw a resignation letter."
"Did your mother ask about him?"
"Yes."
"What did Sterling tell her?"
Diana's eyes filled.
"That Martin had stolen money and disappeared."
I felt my stomach turn.
Mom had hired an accountant to investigate missing funds.
The accountant vanished.
Sterling blamed him.
And months later, Sterling began telling everyone Mom was paranoid.
"Did your mother believe him?" I asked.
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because she came to see me."
"When?"
"May."
"What did she ask?"
"Whether Martin had left anything behind."
I leaned forward.
"Had he?"
Diana nodded.
"He'd sent an encrypted file to the office printer."
"Why the printer?"
"It was a secure print queue. The job hadn't been released."
"Did you print it?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
She swallowed.
"I kept a copy."
Ortiz set down his pen.
"Do you still have it?"
She nodded.
"Where?"
"In a safe-deposit box."
"Why didn't you give it to Lenora?"
"Because Sterling found out I'd printed it."
Diana wiped her eyes.
"He told me Martin had committed fraud. He said the file contained stolen confidential information."
"Did you believe him?"
"At first."
"And now?"
She looked at me.
"After the wedding, I don't know what to believe."
Ortiz asked, "Would you be willing to provide that copy through counsel?"
Diana nodded.
"Yes."
Then she looked at me.
"Kalista, there's something you need to understand."
"What?"
"Your mother didn't just discover missing money."
I waited.
"Martin found evidence that someone had been preparing to sell the public-access rights to Westhaven."
"Sterling?"
"Yes."
"Without Mom's permission?"
"Without anyone's permission who was entitled to give it."
Diana's hands trembled.
"And the people financing the deal knew the rights were disputed."
I stared.
"Then why would they agree?"
"Because Sterling showed them a letter."
"What letter?"
"A letter supposedly signed by your mother."
I closed my eyes.
Another forged document.
But Diana wasn't finished.
"The letter said Lenora had approved the transaction and understood that the access restriction would be extinguished."
"How much was the deal worth?"
Diana looked at Ortiz.
Then at me.
"Four hundred and eighty million dollars."
I couldn't speak.
"And there was one more condition," she said.
"What condition?"
"The lenders required Sterling to demonstrate that your mother couldn't reverse her consent after closing."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
Diana's voice dropped.
"By showing that her authority had passed to him."
I stared at her.
"The incompetency petition."
She nodded.
"The medical transfer. The trust amendment. All of it."
I felt dizzy.
"They weren't separate plans."
"No."
Diana looked down at the table.
"They were all part of the same closing package."
"Closing when?"
She didn't answer immediately.
May you like
Then she said:
"Friday. Forty-eight hours from now."
