Chapter 5: What Martin Said When He Had No Choice
He didn't hang up.
That was the first thing I noticed.
A guilty man with options might have.
But Martin Hale had been a lawyer for thirty-four years, and even caught off guard, he understood that hanging up on a client at eleven o'clock at night was its own kind of answer.
"Evelyn," he said carefully.
"It's late."
"It is," I agreed.
"Tell me about the document they brought to the restaurant tonight."
Another pause.
Shorter this time.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Martin.
I have a witness who saw Valerie take papers with your letterhead out of her bag before I arrived.
I have the co-signatory document you sent me eight months ago, and I've read the clause on page three.
And I have the restaurant's booking record with your name on it." I let that sit for a moment.
"So let's try again.
Tell me about the document."
The silence this time was different.
It had weight to it.
"It was a power of attorney," he said finally.
"Limited.
For estate management purposes."
"Whose power of attorney?"
"Daniel's.
Over the remaining trust accounts."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"And you prepared it."
"Daniel came to me six weeks ago.
He said you had agreed in principle and that he was handling the family finances because of your health."
"My health," I repeated.
"He said you'd been struggling.
Memory concerns.
That you'd asked him to step in."
I set the phone on the desk and pressed it to speaker so my hands would be free, because they had started to shake and I didn't want to drop anything.
"I have not had a single memory concern," I said.
"I have not asked Daniel to step in.
And I have not agreed to anything in principle."
"Evelyn—"
"Did you verify any of what he told you?"
Martin didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
"You've been my lawyer for eleven years," I said.
"You've sat across from me dozens of times.
Have I ever once seemed confused to you?
Forgetful?
Incapable?"
"No," he said quietly.
"You haven't."
"Then why did you believe him?"
"He brought a letter." Martin's voice had gone flat.
"It had your signature."
"I didn't sign any letter."
"I know that now."
The words landed with a dullness that told me he had probably suspected it before tonight.
"You know it now," I said.
"When did you start to suspect it?"
He didn't answer.
"Martin.
When?"
"Two weeks ago," he said.
"Daniel called to ask me to move the date.
He wanted the signing to happen at the dinner.
He said it would be easier, more natural, less formal.
That you found lawyer's offices intimidating." He paused.
"You've never found anything intimidating in your life."
"And yet you still made the reservation."
"I made the reservation," he said.
"Yes."
The room was very quiet.
Outside, a car passed on the street, its headlights sweeping briefly across the window and then gone.
"Here's what you're going to do," I said.
"Tonight, before you sleep, you are going to write down everything Daniel told you, every date you met with him, every document he provided, and exactly what he asked you to prepare.
You're going to write it all down and you're going to keep it somewhere safe."
"Evelyn, I want to explain—"
"You can explain everything to my new attorney," I said.
"I'll need a referral to someone outside your firm.
I expect you to provide one by nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
He started to say something else.
I ended the call.
I sat in Richard's chair and looked at the filing cabinet and thought about eleven years of trust and what it costs when someone decides it can be used.
Then I thought about the power of attorney document that was still sitting in Valerie's bag.
The one I had never signed.
The one Daniel had brought to a restaurant expecting me to put my name on it after a glass of wine and the social pressure of twelve family witnesses.
They had planned it carefully.
They had simply not planned for me to refuse to pay the bill.
My phone lit up again.
May you like
This time the name on the screen was one I had not expected.
Frank.
