Chapter 10: The Brother Who Was Never De@d
Lawrence's voice was steadier than I expected.
"He told me about you," he said.
"Not much.
But some."
"He told me you were de@d," I said.
A long exhale.
"Yeah.
I figured he'd done something like that." A pause.
"We had a falling out.
A bad one.
About fifteen years ago.
After that, I suppose it was easier for him to just — erase me."
"What was the falling out about?"
"Money," Lawrence said.
"What else.
Richard borrowed from me.
A lot.
Over a long time.
And when I finally asked for it back — when I needed it back, my wife was sick — he told me there was nothing to give.
That it was gone.
That I should have known better than to lend to family."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
"How much?"
"Sixty-something thousand," he said.
"I stopped counting after a while.
It hurt too much."
"I found your name in his notebook," I said.
"He kept records.
Every payment."
Another long silence.
"He kept records."
"Yes."
"Of course he did," Lawrence said quietly.
"Richard always kept records.
He just kept them where no one else could find them." A pause.
"Did he ever pay any of it back?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry.
You didn't do anything." He cleared his throat.
"I heard he passed.
I saw it in an obituary online.
I didn't come to the funeral.
I didn't think I'd be welcome."
"You would have been welcome," I said.
"I didn't know you existed."
"No," he said.
"I don't suppose you did."
We were quiet for a moment.
"Lawrence," I said.
"I'm working with a lawyer to untangle what Richard left behind.
There's a second mortgage on my house, a forged signature, a woman he kept for eleven years, and now sixty-two thousand dollars that should have gone to you." I paused.
"I can't promise anything.
But I think you deserve to know what I find.
And I think you may have a claim against the estate."
"I don't want to cause you trouble," he said.
"You're not causing me anything," I said.
"Richard caused all of this.
I'm just the one cleaning it up."
He made a sound that might have been a laugh.
"You sound like someone who's been doing that for a long time."
"Forty years," I said.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm sorry he did this to you."
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
"Tell me about him," I said.
"The Richard you knew.
Before all of this."
And Lawrence talked.
For almost an hour, he talked.
He told me about a boy who had grown up needing to be the one in control, always, because their father had been unpredictable and their mother had been exhausted.
He told me about a young man who was charming and capable and who used both things like tools.
He told me about the moment he realized his brother didn't see other people as people exactly — more as pieces in an arrangement he was managing.
"He loved you," Lawrence said.
"In his way.
I believe that.
But Richard's love always had a structure to it.
Rules.
Limits.
Things you were allowed to do and things you weren't.
Because if you could do everything yourself, you didn't need him.
And Richard needed to be needed."
I thought about the driving lessons.
Forty years of being told the passenger seat was safer.
"Yes," I said.
"I understand that now."
When we hung up, I sat for a long time at the kitchen table.
Then I called Diane and told her about Lawrence.
"He has a legitimate claim," she said immediately.
"Documented loans, records in Richard's own handwriting.
If he's willing to come forward, it strengthens the overall picture of how Richard managed money." A pause.
"It also means the estate is more complicated than we thought.
There may be less than you expected."
"I don't care about the money," I said.
"I care about the house."
"Then let's focus on the house," she said.
"I heard back from the financial crimes unit today.
They're opening a preliminary inquiry into Mercer Holdings.
Gerald Mercer is going to have a very uncomfortable few months."
"Good," I said.
"There's one more thing," Diane said.
"Patrice Calloway called my office this morning."
I straightened.
"Why?"
"She wants to cooperate," Diane said.
"She's willing to provide a statement about the document she witnessed, what Richard told her, everything.
She says she has emails.
Printed copies she kept." A pause.
"Carol, if her account is consistent with what we have — and I think it will be — we have a very strong case to void that mortgage entirely."
I looked out the kitchen window.
The yard.
May you like
The old oak tree Richard had always meant to trim and never did.
"Tell her I said thank you," I said.
