Chapter 7: The Meeting He Arranged
He named a restaurant downtown.
Seven o'clock.
I almost said no.
Then I thought about the email printout in my kitchen drawer and the voicemail on Vera's phone and my father's letter folded in my coat pocket, and I said yes.
Vera grabbed my arm before I could put the phone down.
"You're not going alone."
"He said just the two of us."
"He also helped cover up your father's d*ath," she said.
"So his word isn't worth much."
We agreed she would come and sit at a separate table.
Far enough that Gerald wouldn't recognize her.
Close enough that she could hear if anything went wrong.
I also called my friend Diane, who had spent thirty years as a paralegal before she retired.
I read her the email chain over the phone.
She was quiet for a long time.
"This is serious," she said.
"I know."
"You need a real attorney.
Not tomorrow.
Tonight, before that meeting."
"I don't have time to find one I can trust."
"I do," she said.
"Give me an hour."
She called back in forty minutes with a name: Patricia Holt.
A retired federal prosecutor who now took private cases.
Diane had worked with her twice and trusted her completely.
I called Patricia.
She listened without interrupting while I explained everything.
When I finished, she said, "Don't go to that meeting without recording it.
Your state allows single-party consent.
You can record any conversation you're part of."
"I know," I said.
"Do you have a way to do it discreetly?"
"I'll figure it out."
"Good.
And after the meeting, call me.
Don't do anything else with those documents until we've spoken."
Gerald was already seated when I arrived.
He had a glass of red wine and a menu he wasn't reading.
He stood when he saw me, which surprised me.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
"Of course," I said.
We ordered.
He made small talk about the restaurant, about the neighborhood, about how long he'd known my father.
He was good at it.
Practiced.
The kind of man who had spent decades making people feel at ease right before he took something from them.
"I'll be direct," he said finally, setting down his fork.
"Helen had documents that don't belong to her.
Business records from a partnership that dissolved over a decade ago.
I believe she may have passed them to you."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because she was a complicated woman who held grudges." He smiled thinly.
"She blamed me for things that weren't my fault.
Your father's passing hit her hard and she needed someone to blame."
"What kind of documents?" I asked.
"Account records.
Internal transfers.
Things that look alarming out of context but are entirely routine with the right explanation."
"Then explain them to me."
His smile didn't move, but something behind his eyes did.
"That's a conversation for attorneys."
"Then let's have it with attorneys."
"I'd prefer to keep this simple." He leaned forward slightly.
"Those documents, in the wrong hands, could cause a great deal of unnecessary damage.
To reputations.
To families." He paused.
"To you, specifically.
Helen was not a straightforward woman.
Whatever she told you about those records — whatever story she built around them — I can promise you it was shaped by her own agenda."
"And what was her agenda?"
"Money," he said flatly.
"She wanted a settlement.
I refused.
So she found another way to cause trouble." He picked up his wine.
"I'm offering you a clean exit.
Return the documents.
We sign a mutual agreement.
You walk away with fifty thousand dollars and none of this becomes your problem."
I looked at him across the table.
"That's a generous offer," I said.
"It is," he agreed.
"Why would you offer that much if the documents are routine?"
The wine glass paused halfway to his mouth.
"Because litigation is expensive," he said.
"And I'm a practical man."
"So am I," I said.
"Practical, I mean." I set my napkin on the table.
"I'll need to think about it."
"Of course." He relaxed slightly.
"Take a few days."
"I'll be in touch," I said.
I walked out into the cold air and kept walking until I reached the corner.
Vera was two steps behind me.
"Did you get it?" she asked.
I held up my phone.
May you like
The recording app was still running.
"Every word," I said.
