Chapter 6: The Executor Pushes Back
Roy was fine.
It wasn't what I feared in those seconds watching Grace's face.
What had happened was simpler and in some ways worse: someone had called Roy's office the previous afternoon asking questions about Daniel's estate.
Not an attorney.
Not anyone from my side.
Someone who identified himself only as a representative of the estate's executor and asked Roy, directly, whether he had been in contact with Daniel's former wife.
Roy had said nothing.
But he'd called his attorney immediately after.
Grace set the phone down.
"The executor already knows you've been speaking to Roy," she said.
"How?"
"That's what we need to find out." She made a note.
"His name is Philip Marsh.
Daniel's younger brother.
He was named executor in the will."
I knew Philip.
Not well.
He had been at family events during the marriage — Christmas twice, a birthday party once.
Quiet man.
Deferential to Daniel in the way younger siblings sometimes are.
I hadn't thought about him in years.
"What does Philip stand to lose if the estate is challenged?" I asked.
"Potentially quite a bit.
As executor, he controls the distribution timeline.
If a fraud claim is filed and the estate is frozen pending litigation, his own inheritance share gets delayed.
And if it turns out he had any knowledge of the financial misrepresentation—"
"Did he?"
Grace paused.
"That's one of the things we're going to find out."
She filed the initial claim two days later.
I wasn't in the room when it happened, but she called me afterward.
"It's filed," she said.
"Expect contact from Philip's attorney within the week."
It came in four days.
A letter, formal and dense, addressed to Grace's firm.
I read the copy she sent me that evening.
The letter argued that the estate had been properly administered according to Daniel's clearly expressed wishes.
It argued that any financial disclosures made during the divorce mediation had been handled by independent legal counsel on both sides.
It argued that Roy Cafferty's letter was the self-serving statement of a man attempting to mitigate his own professional liability.
And it argued that my claim was without merit and should be withdrawn.
I called Grace.
"They're saying Roy is lying to protect himself," I said.
"They're saying it loudly," Grace said.
"Which usually means they're worried."
"What do we do?"
"We respond.
And we ask for the business's full financial records from the final three years of your marriage.
All of them.
Not the summary Roy prepared — the originals.
Tax filings, quarterly reports, everything."
"Will they provide them?"
"They're legally required to in discovery.
But Philip's attorney is going to make us fight for every page." She paused.
"There's something else.
Philip called Roy directly this morning.
Not through his attorney.
Personally."
"What did he say?"
"He told Roy that withdrawing his statement would be the wisest decision Roy ever made.
That the stress of litigation at Roy's age wasn't worth it.
That Daniel would have wanted this handled quietly."
I sat down.
"He threatened him."
"He strongly implied consequences.
Roy recorded the call."
Something shifted in my chest.
Not quite relief.
More like the ground becoming solid under my feet after a long time of not trusting it.
"Roy recorded it," I said.
"Roy recorded it," Grace confirmed.
"And he sent the file to my office this afternoon."
"Does Philip know?"
"Not yet."
I looked out my kitchen window.
The yard was dark.
The neighbors had their lights on.
"Grace," I said.
"When Philip finds out that call was recorded, what does he do?"
May you like
A brief silence.
"That," she said, "is exactly what I've been thinking about."
