Chapter 8 - Charles Mercer
Charles Mercer did not answer Daniel’s first three calls.
On the fourth, Daniel left a message.
“My name is Daniel Reed. Henry Reed was my father. Vanessa Reed is my wife. I know you’ve been advising her. Call me before my attorney calls you.”
Charles returned the call twelve minutes later.
His voice sounded older than Daniel expected.
“Threats are unnecessary.”
“Then answer questions.”
“I have confidentiality obligations.”
“To someone who may have forged financial documents?”
Silence.
Daniel continued.
“Did you tell Vanessa about my father’s trust?”
Charles exhaled.
“We should not discuss this by telephone.”
“Fine. Where?”
They met at a hotel café downtown.
Daniel brought Harold.
Charles objected when he saw the attorney.
Harold smiled without warmth.
“You may leave.”
Charles sat.
He looked polished but tired.
“Vanessa approached me last year.”
Daniel frowned.
“Last year?”
“Yes.”
“That’s before my mother moved in.”
Charles realized he had revealed too much.
Daniel leaned forward.
“How did she find you?”
“She said Henry’s old records mentioned my name.”
“What old records?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Charles looked toward Harold.
Harold said nothing.
Daniel placed the photograph of Charles and Vanessa on the table.
“You knew my father’s assets.”
“I knew some.”
“You knew about the medical building.”
“Yes.”
“You told Vanessa.”
Charles shifted.
“She asked whether Margaret had independent resources.”
“Why?”
“She said Margaret might need long-term care.”
“Before Mom even moved into our house?”
Charles rubbed his jaw.
“Vanessa described concerns about future expenses.”
Daniel felt cold.
There had been no spontaneous act of kindness when Vanessa invited Margaret to stay after selling her townhouse.
She had been investigating Margaret’s finances months earlier.
“What else did you tell her?”
Charles looked at Harold.
“Nothing privileged.”
Harold finally spoke.
“You were Henry’s accountant. Your duties did not necessarily disappear because he died.”
Charles sighed.
“Henry and I ended badly.”
Margaret had said the same.
“Why?”
Charles stared into his coffee.
“Henry believed I mishandled an investment.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why end the relationship?”
“Because he wouldn’t stop asking questions.”
“What questions?”
Charles hesitated.
Harold leaned forward.
“Mr. Mercer, if you participated in exploitation of an elderly client’s beneficiary, your problem is larger than professional embarrassment.”
Charles looked around the café.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Henry found discrepancies in a partnership account.”
“What partnership?”
“A real-estate syndicate he invested in twenty years ago.”
“How much?”
“Not enormous. Perhaps forty thousand dollars.”
“What happened?”
“The syndicate collapsed.”
“And?”
“Henry believed certain administrative fees had been diverted before the collapse.”
“To you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Charles looked directly at Daniel.
“Vanessa’s father.”
Daniel’s first response was disbelief.
“Vanessa’s father was a dentist.”
“Her stepfather was.”
Daniel stared.
Vanessa rarely spoke about her biological father.
Daniel knew only that he had left when she was young.
“What was his name?”
“Raymond Vale.”
Daniel had heard the name once.
At their wedding, perhaps.
Charles continued.
“Raymond managed several property partnerships. Henry believed he had taken money.”
“Did he?”
“I never saw definitive proof.”
“Why does this matter now?”
“Because Vanessa found Henry’s files.”
“How?”
Charles looked uncomfortable.
“She contacted me after discovering a box in your basement.”
Daniel’s thoughts moved backward.
Last summer Vanessa had insisted on reorganizing basement storage.
He had let her.
“What was in the box?”
“Copies of partnership records. Correspondence. Notes.”
“About Raymond?”
“Yes.”
“And the trust?”
“Also mentioned.”
Daniel’s throat tightened.
“So Vanessa knew Dad believed her biological father stole from him.”
Charles nodded.
“And instead of telling me, she hired you.”
“She wanted context.”
“She wanted money.”
“That came later.”
“How much later?”
“A few months.”
Charles explained that Vanessa had initially seemed interested in defending her father’s memory.
Then her questions changed.
How much did Margaret own?
Could a power of attorney access trust assets?
What documentation did trustees usually require?
Could capital be borrowed against a beneficiary interest?
Harold’s expression became grim.
“You answered those questions?”
“General questions.”
“You knew exactly why she was asking.”
“I suspected.”
“Yet you took her money.”
Charles looked away.
Daniel wanted to hit the table.
Instead he spoke quietly.
“Did you help prepare the one-million-dollar liquidation request?”
Charles did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Harold said, “You should retain counsel.”
Charles looked frightened now.
“I never forged anything.”
“But you knew Margaret had not independently instructed you?”
“I never met Margaret.”
Daniel stared.
“You were helping move her money without ever speaking to her.”
“I was Vanessa’s consultant.”
“You were my father’s accountant.”
Charles whispered, “I made a mistake.”
Daniel pushed back his chair.
“No. A mistake is sending an email to the wrong person. You built a map to my mother’s money and handed it to someone who was already isolating her.”
Charles looked at the table.
Then he said something unexpected.
“Vanessa wasn’t only after Margaret’s money.”
Daniel stopped.
Charles opened his briefcase.
He removed a photocopy of a handwritten letter.
Henry’s handwriting.
Daniel recognized it immediately.
“Where did you get this?”
“Vanessa showed it to me.”
The letter had never been sent.
Henry had written it to Raymond Vale.
Daniel read the first lines.
Raymond,
I know what you took, and I know why you think the records disappeared.
Daniel looked up.
Charles continued.
“Vanessa believes Henry hid evidence that could connect her father to missing partnership money.”
“So?”
“She thinks that evidence is worth more than the trust.”
“To whom?”
Charles swallowed.
“To the people who lost money.”
Daniel looked back at Henry’s letter.
At the bottom, his father had written one unfinished sentence:
If anything happens to me, Margaret knows where—
The page ended there.
Daniel stared.
Margaret knew where.
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Except Margaret had no idea what Henry had meant.
And Vanessa had been living under the same roof with her for eight months.
