Chapter 9: Gerald Makes His Move
Three days later, Patricia called me at seven in the morning.
"Carol finished the preliminary account analysis," she said.
"The parallel account is registered to a shell company in Delaware.
Gerald is listed as the sole beneficial owner.
The transfers from your father's partnership fund total just over four hundred thousand dollars over eighteen months."
I sat down at my kitchen table.
"That's not a tax structure."
"No," Patricia said.
"It's not.
Carol is preparing a full report.
I've also been in contact with a colleague at the state attorney's office.
Informally, for now.
But they're interested."
"What about Dennis Rourke?"
"Still working on that.
It's slower.
Medical records take time and the right kind of request." She paused.
"How are you holding up?"
"Fine," I said.
"Gerald hasn't contacted me again since the text."
"He will," she said.
"Be ready."
He didn't call.
He came to my house.
I was in the kitchen at noon when I heard the knock.
I looked through the window before I opened the door.
Gerald.
And behind him, a younger man in a suit I didn't recognize.
I opened the door but not the screen.
"Gerald," I said.
"I thought we should talk in person," he said.
"This is my attorney, Robert Finch."
"I have an attorney too," I said.
"You can contact her."
"I'd rather not make this formal," Gerald said.
"Not yet." He glanced past me into the house.
"May we come in?"
"No," I said.
Something shifted in his face.
Just slightly.
"I want to give you one more opportunity to be reasonable.
The offer still stands.
Fifty thousand.
No further contact.
Everyone moves on."
"I told you I'd think about it."
"You've had three days." His voice was still pleasant but the pleasantness was wearing thin at the edges.
"I'm going to be honest with you.
Those documents Helen gave you — they're going to be very difficult to explain.
Helen was not a credible person.
She had a history of making accusations.
If this goes to any kind of formal process, the first thing that happens is her character gets examined.
And yours, by extension."
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
"It's a reality," he said.
"I've been in business for forty years.
I know how these things go.
A grieving stepdaughter, a dying woman with a grudge, some old paperwork — it doesn't look the way you think it looks."
"Robert," I said to the attorney, "is your client aware that I recorded our dinner conversation three nights ago?
That in this state, single-party consent makes that recording fully admissible?"
Robert Finch looked at Gerald.
Gerald's jaw tightened.
"I'd also like you to know," I continued, "that the documents are no longer in my possession.
They're with my attorney.
Copies have been made.
The originals are secured." I looked directly at Gerald.
"So whatever you came here hoping to accomplish, it's already too late."
Gerald stared at me for a long moment.
"You have no idea what you're doing," he said.
"I think I do," I said.
"My attorney's name is Patricia Holt.
You can reach her through her office."
I watched his face when I said her name.
The color left it.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
"Patricia Holt," he repeated.
"That's right."
He turned without another word and walked back to his car.
Robert Finch followed, not looking at me.
I closed the door and leaned against it.
Then I called Patricia.
"He came to my house," I said.
"I know," she said.
"He called my office twenty minutes ago.
His attorney asked whether we'd be open to a settlement discussion."
"What did you say?"
"I said we'd be in touch." I could hear the quiet satisfaction in her voice.
"He knows who I am, which means he knows what I'm capable of.
He's scared.
Scared men make mistakes." She paused.
May you like
"The state attorney's office called this morning.
They want a formal meeting."
