Chapter 7: The Office on the Fourth Floor
She arrived four minutes early.
I saw her through the glass panel beside Gerald's door — perfectly dressed again, the same composed posture, a slim leather portfolio under one arm.
She had brought her own lawyer, a younger man in a gray suit who looked like he had been briefed to stay quiet and look expensive.
Gerald met them in the reception area.
I stayed seated inside.
When they came in and Heloise saw me already there, something moved behind her eyes.
Not fear.
Recalculation.
"Daniel." She sat across from me.
Her lawyer sat beside her.
Gerald sat at the head of the table.
"I'm glad we could do this calmly."
"So am I," I said.
Gerald opened his folder.
"Ms.
Heloise.
I'll get directly to the matter.
The co-management agreement you presented to my client — we've had it reviewed.
The witnessing solicitor listed on the document, a firm called Harrow and Peel at a Clerkenwell address — does not exist.
The address is a vacant lot.
The signature is not valid.
The document is not enforceable."
Her lawyer leaned over and she murmured something to him.
"Furthermore," Gerald continued, "we have obtained records of financial transfers made from my client's household accounts over the past eight months.
Forty-one thousand, two hundred pounds, moved in increments to a private account registered in your name."
Her lawyer straightened.
"Those transfers may have been made under the co-management agreement—"
"Which is fraudulent," Gerald said pleasantly.
"So that argument doesn't hold."
Heloise had not spoken.
She was looking at me.
"You found Dara," she said.
"She found me."
"Dara is not a reliable source.
She has a history—"
"The bank records are reliable," I said.
"The photographs of the transfer confirmations are reliable.
The letter Nora wrote to you eleven months ago is reliable." I watched her face.
"She never sent it.
But she kept a copy."
The leather portfolio on the table in front of her did not move.
Her hands were very still.
"I want to offer you something," she said quietly.
"I will walk away.
No legal action on either side.
I'll sign whatever you need.
The accounts, the property — all of it released back to you.
Clean.
No court, no publicity, no record."
Her lawyer looked at her sideways.
"In exchange for what?" I asked.
"In exchange for you not pursuing the financial matter."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"My daughter slept on a tile floor," I said.
"For how long, I don't know yet.
She had marks on her hands from carrying things she was too small to carry.
She had a mark on her face the night I came home." I looked at Heloise steadily.
"There is no exchange for that."
She looked at me for a long time.
Then she turned to her lawyer and said, very quietly: "Get me out of this."
He opened his mouth.
Gerald slid a second folder across the table.
"I've taken the liberty of preparing a formal referral to the Metropolitan Police financial crimes unit.
And a separate referral to child protective services, documenting what my client found upon returning home.
Both go out this afternoon unless there is a reason to delay them." He folded his hands.
"There isn't one."
Heloise's lawyer picked up the folder.
He read the first page.
He set it down.
He looked at his client.
"I need to advise you," he said carefully, "that I am not in a position to—"
"I know," she said.
She cut him off without looking at him.
May you like
She was still looking at me.
"I know."
