Chapter 9: What Richard Faced
Sandra Osei arrived at Grayson's office at nine o'clock exactly.
She was younger than her voice had suggested.
Precise in the way of someone who had learned early that being underestimated was a professional hazard and had decided to use it.
She set a thin laptop on the conference table and opened it without preamble.
"Seven point two million," she said.
"That's the revised figure.
We've been tracking the Harlow Meridian LLC transfers for eight months.
We initially thought it was a tax avoidance structure.
It's more than that."
"How much more?" I asked.
"The offshore accounts were used to receive payments from three separate companies.
Two of them are legitimate businesses that Richard held minority stakes in.
The third—" She turned the laptop to face us.
"—is a shell registered in Cyprus that exists solely to receive and redistribute funds.
We believe it was used to launder money from the trust transfers and make them appear as legitimate investment returns."
Grayson leaned forward.
"You're describing wire fraud and money laundering."
"Among other things, yes."
"What do you need from us?"
"The trust documents.
The original signature records.
Patricia Voss's investigation files, with her consent.
And—" Sandra looked at me.
"—your testimony about the forged documents.
Specifically, the annulment petition and the transfer authorizations."
"You have it," I said.
Sandra nodded.
She didn't write anything down.
She was the kind of person who remembered.
"What's Richard's current status?" Eleanor asked.
She had come with me.
I hadn't asked her not to.
"He was released on bail at six this morning," Sandra said.
"His attorney has been in contact with our office.
They're exploring a cooperation agreement."
"He wants to make a deal," I said.
"His attorney is exploring that option," Sandra said carefully.
"We haven't agreed to anything."
"What would a deal look like?"
Sandra folded her hands on the table.
"Reduced charges in exchange for information about the Cyprus entity and its other participants.
We believe Richard is not the only person involved.
The structure is too sophisticated for one person to have built alone."
I thought of the heavyset man in Patricia's photograph.
Carl Briggs.
The document specialist.
"Briggs," I said.
Sandra's expression didn't change, but something behind it did.
"We're aware of that name," she said.
"Patricia has photographs and phone records."
"We'd like copies."
Grayson was already making notes.
The meeting ran for two hours.
Sandra was thorough.
She asked the same questions in three different ways, not because she doubted the answers but because she was building something that had to hold up under pressure.
I answered everything.
At the end, she closed her laptop and looked at me directly.
"Ms.
Harlow," she said.
"I want to be honest with you.
If Richard cooperates, he may receive a significantly reduced sentence.
That can feel like injustice when you're the person who was harmed."
"I understand how the system works," I said.
"I wanted to make sure you heard it from me directly, rather than from a filing."
"I appreciate that."
She stood.
Shook hands with Grayson, then with me, then with Eleanor.
At the door, she paused.
"One more thing," she said.
"The four hundred thousand he moved before the freeze order.
We found it this morning.
His attorney's account, as Patricia suspected.
The attorney has already retained separate counsel." She paused.
"Richard is running out of allies."
She left.
The room was quiet for a moment.
"His attorney retained separate counsel," Eleanor said.
"His own lawyer needs a lawyer," I said.
Grayson almost smiled.
"It happens more often than you'd think."
I looked out the window.
The city was ordinary outside.
People on the pavement, a bus pulling away from a stop, a woman pushing a stroller.
The whole normal machinery of a Tuesday morning.
"Grayson," I said.
"The trust.
Once the legal proceedings are resolved — what does my position look like?"
"Strong," he said.
"Your father's letter, combined with the trust restructuring he did three years before his death, makes your standing essentially unassailable.
Richard's parentage motion was his only real angle, and he withdrew it." He paused.
"You are your father's heir, Claire.
That was always true.
Richard just spent four years trying to make you doubt it."
I nodded.
"And Eleanor's position?"
"Also strong.
The fraudulent transfers will be reversed where possible.
The frozen assets will be returned to the trust.
Some portion may be unrecoverable, but the core is intact."
Eleanor was looking at her hands.
"Robert built that trust carefully," she said.
"He would be angry about the four hundred thousand."
"He would be angrier about the forgery," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"He would."
My phone buzzed.
Patricia.
I answered.
"Richard's attorney just sent a message to Grayson's office," she said.
"I wanted to tell you before you saw it in writing.
Richard is asking to speak with you directly.
No lawyers present.
He says he has something to tell you that isn't in any of the documents."
I looked at Grayson.
He shook his head slightly.
"Tell Patricia to inform his attorney that any communication goes through Grayson," I said.
"Already done," Patricia said.
"But Claire — I think you should know he's asking.
Because whatever he wants to say, he's going to say it eventually.
In a deposition, in a courtroom, somewhere.
Might be worth knowing what it is before it surfaces somewhere you can't control."
I was quiet for a moment.
"Set it up," I said.
"Grayson present.
One hour.
Neutral location."
"Are you sure?" Patricia asked.
May you like
"No," I said.
"Set it up anyway."
