Chapter 7: What Marcus Knew
David arrived in fifty-three minutes.
He was sixty-one years old, had been my family's solicitor since before I was born, and he walked into the venue's side office with his coat still on and his reading glasses already out.
Marcus was sitting in the corner.
He'd asked for water an hour ago and hadn't touched it.
David looked at him, then at me.
"This is Marcus Hale," I said.
"He's cooperating."
David sat down, opened his case, and set a small recorder on the table.
"Mr.
Hale," he said.
"I'm going to ask you some questions.
You are not under any obligation to answer.
But if what Daniel has told me is accurate, your level of cooperation today will matter a great deal in the weeks ahead.
Do you understand?"
Marcus nodded.
"When did Amanda Reeves first contact you?"
Marcus exhaled.
"Fifteen months ago.
She came to my office.
Said she had a property acquisition she needed help structuring.
Said the owner was a private individual, not a developer.
She wanted a clean transfer — no agents, no public listing."
"Did she tell you how she intended to acquire the property?"
"She said she had a personal relationship with the owner.
That the transfer would be voluntary."
"Did you believe her?"
A pause.
"I didn't ask enough questions."
David made a note.
"When did the plan change?"
Marcus looked at his hands.
"About three months ago.
She came back and said the owner — Daniel — was taking longer than expected.
She said she needed a backup.
That's when she mentioned the spousal claim route."
"And you continued to assist her."
"I introduced her to a family law contact.
I didn't draft anything myself."
"The name of that contact," David said.
Marcus gave it.
David wrote it down without reacting.
"The folder you brought today.
Who prepared it?"
"I did.
Amanda asked me to have the transfer documents ready for signature immediately after the ceremony.
She said Daniel would be — her word — *receptive* after the wedding."
"Meaning emotionally compromised," David said.
Marcus said nothing.
Which was its own answer.
I had been standing near the window.
I hadn't sat down since David arrived.
"She called my daughter a complication," I said.
"Did you know that?"
Marcus looked up.
"Her paralegal told me," I said.
"Carol Simms.
Amanda said Sophie was too attached and might cause problems."
He was quiet for a moment.
"She mentioned the girl once.
Said she was a factor to manage.
I told her children weren't my area and I didn't want details."
"She sl@pped her," I said.
"This morning.
In the bridal suite.
My six-year-old daughter."
The room was very still.
"I didn't know that," Marcus said.
And for the first time, he sounded like he meant something fully.
David set down his pen.
"Mr.
Hale.
I'm going to be direct with you.
The documents you prepared, combined with the recorded communications on Ms.
Reeves' phone, constitute strong evidence of a coordinated attempt to fraudulently obtain property through deceptive means.
Your involvement, even as a facilitator, carries legal exposure.
The question is whether you position yourself as a witness or a defendant."
Marcus picked up the glass of water.
Drank half of it.
"What do you need from me?" he said.
"A full written account.
Every meeting, every instruction, every document.
Signed and dated." David looked at him over his reading glasses.
"Today."
Marcus set the glass down.
"Alright."
David turned to me.
"The voice recording — is it intact on the phone?"
"Yes."
"And the phone is in your possession?"
"Yes."
"Good." He closed his notepad.
"Amanda will almost certainly claim the phone was taken without consent and attempt to have it excluded.
We'll need to address that.
But the written messages, the folder, Carol Simms' statement, and Mr.
Hale's account together form a picture that is very difficult to walk away from."
"Can she be stopped from filing the spousal claim?" I said.
"She's not my wife.
The ceremony didn't happen."
"Correct.
No ceremony, no marriage, no spousal rights.
That exit is closed." David allowed himself a small, dry expression that wasn't quite a smile.
"She'll know that by now."
I thought about Amanda in the back of a car somewhere, working through her options.
"She'll try something else," I said.
David nodded.
"She will.
Which is why we move quickly." He stood, picked up his case, and looked at Marcus.
"I'll need three hours of your time, Mr.
Hale.
Starting now."
Marcus stood.
I looked at David.
"What about Sophie?
Is there anything I need to do to protect her legally?
Amanda was in a position of trust—"
"We'll include it in the report," David said.
"What happened to Sophie this morning is relevant to the full picture of Ms.
Reeves' conduct." He paused.
"How is she?"
"She's with my sister-in-law," I said.
"She's okay."
"Good." He put a hand briefly on my arm.
"Go be with your daughter, Daniel.
Let me work."
I left them in the office and walked back through the now-empty venue.
The flowers were still on the walls.
The chairs were still in rows.
The programs were still on the seats, most of them left behind.
I picked one up.
*Daniel and Amanda.
Today and always.*
I folded it once and put it in my pocket.
I didn't know why.
Sophie was in the bridal waiting room down the hall — the one that hadn't been used today.
Ray's wife, Helen, had found her a biscuit and a glass of juice and they were sitting together on a small sofa.
Sophie looked up when I came in.
I sat down beside her and she climbed immediately into my lap, flower girl dress and all.
"Is it over?" she said.
"Almost," I said.
She leaned her head against my chest.
"Daddy," she said.
"I was scared to tell you about the phone."
"I know."
"I thought you'd be angry."
"At you?" I said.
"Never."
She was quiet for a moment.
"She put it in my basket," Sophie said.
"I saw her do it.
She didn't know I was watching."
I went very still.
"She put the phone in your basket herself?" I said.
Sophie nodded.
"Before the photos.
She said something into it and then she put it in."
I thought about that.
Amanda had put the phone in Sophie's basket.
Not dropped it.
Not lost it.
Placed it there deliberately — and then recorded a message on it.
May you like
I didn't understand why yet.
But I knew it mattered.
