Chapter 7: The Lawyer Who Knew Too Much
Arthur Finch's handwriting was unmistakable.
I'd seen it on the envelope he'd given me in his office, on the documents he'd laid across his desk, and on the legal papers that had protected my mother's trust for seventeen years.
But the six words on the photograph made everything I'd believed about him feel suddenly fragile.
If she dies, the girl inherits everything.
Detective Ward placed the photograph beneath a clear evidence sleeve.
"Mr. Mercer, do you know why your lawyer would write this?""
My father stared at the image.
"No.""
"Did Arthur Finch have access to your wife's estate documents?""
"Of course. He drafted the trust.""
"And did he know about the financial irregularities at your company?""
Dad hesitated.
"Yes.""
"Did he know your wife was investigating them?""
Another pause.
"Yes.""
The detective leaned back.
"Then I suggest we speak with him.""
I couldn't stop staring at the photograph.
Arthur had been the first person to show me my mother's letter. He'd listened while I asked questions, and he'd looked genuinely troubled when he explained that her death might not have been an accident.
He had also known exactly where to find the original records.
And now his handwriting had appeared beside a sentence suggesting that my mother's death would benefit me financially.
"Maybe he was warning someone," I said.
Detective Ward turned toward me.
"That's possible.""
"Maybe he meant that if Mom died, the trust would protect me from Renata.""
"Also possible.""
"Then why are you looking at Dad like he's already guilty?""
Ward's expression softened slightly.
"Because evidence doesn't become harmless simply because we can imagine an innocent explanation for it.""
I hated that answer.
Mostly because I knew she was right.
Dad sat down heavily.
"Arthur and I have been friends for thirty years. He helped me buy my first mill. He represented my wife when she created the trust. He was there when she was buried.""
"That doesn't answer the question," Detective Ward said.
"No," Dad replied.
"It doesn't.""
The detective made a call and arranged for officers to visit Arthur's office.
Then she turned to me.
"Evelyn, I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you met him earlier today.""
I described the office, the letter, the folder, and the way Arthur had reacted when I asked about the blue bottle.
I remembered how he'd closed the folder before answering my questions.
How he'd said my mother hadn't died in an ordinary accident.
How he'd known that the original documents were hidden beneath the study floor.
When I finished, Ward wrote something in her notebook.
"Did he ever leave the room?""
I thought about it.
"Once. He went to get another folder.""
"For how long?""
"Maybe three minutes.""
"Was the office door locked?""
"No.""
"Could someone have entered while he was gone?""
"I suppose.""
Ward nodded.
"All right.""
She closed her notebook.
"Until we establish what Arthur knew and when he knew it, I want you to avoid contacting him.""
I looked at my father.
He seemed to be shrinking inside his work shirt.
"Do you think Arthur killed Mom?"" I asked.
The detective didn't answer immediately.
"I think someone spent seventeen years making sure we couldn't establish what happened to her. That's what concerns me most.""
A knock sounded at the door.
An officer stepped inside.
"Detective, we've located Mr. Finch.""
Ward stood.
"Where?""
"At his office. He says he's willing to cooperate, but he's requested that Evelyn be present.""
My father rose immediately.
"Absolutely not.""
I turned toward him.
"Why?""
"Because I won't let you walk into another situation you don't understand.""
"Then explain it to me.""
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I picked up my mother's photograph from the table.
"That's what I thought.""
Detective Ward watched us for a moment before speaking.
"Evelyn can accompany me. She won't be alone, and she'll remain under my supervision.""
Dad looked ready to argue.
Then he saw my face.
Finally, he nodded.
"Stay beside the detective," he said.
"I will.""
"And if anything feels wrong, you leave.""
I slipped the photograph into my pocket.
"Then maybe we should have left seventeen years ago.""
He flinched.
I regretted the words as soon as they escaped, but I couldn't take them back.
We left the mansion at eight twenty.
Arthur's office was dark when we arrived. Two officers stood near the entrance, and a uniformed constable was waiting beside a black sedan.
Arthur sat behind his desk, his hands folded neatly over a closed leather folder.
He looked older than he had that afternoon.
Or perhaps I'd simply stopped seeing him as the reassuring man who had helped my father build our lives.
He stood when I entered.
"Evelyn.""
I remained near the door.
"Why is your handwriting on the photograph?""
Arthur's eyes dropped briefly toward my pocket.
"You've seen the evidence.""
"I've seen six words that make it look like you knew my mother was going to die.""
"I knew she was in danger.""
The answer came too quickly.
Detective Ward stepped forward.
"Explain.""
Arthur removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief.
"Your mother discovered financial fraud connected to Mercer Timber. She believed someone was using the company's chemical inventory to conceal illegal transactions. She came to me because she wanted to protect Evelyn's inheritance.""
"Did you write the note?"" Ward asked.
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because I was warning Daniel.""
My father wasn't in the room to hear it, but I could almost imagine his reaction.
I folded my arms.
"Warning him about what?""
Arthur placed his glasses back on.
"Your mother had asked me to revise her trust. She feared that if she died before you reached adulthood, certain people would attempt to take control of the assets she intended for you.""
"Renata?""
"Among others.""
"Who else?""
He looked at Detective Ward.
"That is part of what I need to explain.""
"Then explain it.""
Arthur opened the folder.
Inside were copies of financial statements, company correspondence, and a photograph of my mother standing beside a man in a dark suit.
I recognized the man immediately.
Victor Hale.
But the photograph was different from the one Detective Ward had shown us.
In this image, Victor was handing my mother a thick envelope.
"When was this taken?"" I asked.
"Three days before she died," Arthur replied.
"What was in the envelope?""
"Records proving that money had been diverted from the company. Your mother believed they also contained evidence that someone had falsified chemical inventory reports.""
"Who?""
"She didn't know for certain.""
I stared at him.
"You were her lawyer. She trusted you.""
"Yes.""
"Then why didn't you take the evidence to the police?""
Arthur looked down.
"Because the documents implicated people whose cooperation was necessary to preserve the company and the trust.""
I laughed once, without humor.
"You protected the money instead of protecting my mother.""
His expression tightened.
"I protected you.""
"Everyone keeps saying that.""
My voice rose.
"My father protected me. Renata protected the family. You protected my inheritance. And somehow, my mother still died, and I grew up in a house where everyone lied to me.""
Arthur didn't interrupt.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that no explanation could make those years disappear.
Finally, he said, "You're right.""
The admission caught me off guard.
He slid another document across the desk.
"This is a copy of the original trust amendment. Your mother signed it two days before she died. It established a condition that has never been disclosed publicly.""
Detective Ward examined the page.
"What condition?""
Arthur looked at me.
"That you would receive the controlling interest in the family estate at eighteen, provided the original records relating to your mother's death remained intact.""
I frowned.
"Why would she make that condition?""
"Because she knew someone might destroy the evidence.""
My fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
"Did she tell you who?""
Arthur hesitated.
"She told me she suspected Renata.""
"Only Renata?""
"No.""
The room went quiet.
I waited.
Arthur glanced at the officers, then back at me.
"She also suspected someone she believed had access to your father's personal records.""
"Who?""
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Me.""
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
"You?""
"Your mother discovered that someone had copied a set of documents from my office. The copies included the trust amendment and the laboratory report. She believed the person wanted to know exactly what would happen if she died.""
Detective Ward leaned forward.
"When did this occur?""
"Two days before her death.""
"Did you report the theft?""
"No.""
"Why not?""
"Because I thought the person who took the documents was trying to pressure Daniel. I didn't realize the threat was directed at his wife.""
I stared at him.
"You knew someone had stolen documents connected to Mom's death, and you did nothing?""
"I confronted the person I suspected.""
"Who?""
Arthur looked at me for a long time.
Then he said, "Renata.""
The answer didn't surprise me.
What surprised me was the expression on his face.
It wasn't anger.
It was shame.
"I asked her why she'd taken the documents," he continued.
"She denied it. I told her I would contact the police if anything else disappeared.""
"And then Mom died.""
"Yes.""
"Did you ever confront her again?""
"Not directly.""
"Why?""
"Because the morning after your mother died, I received a message.""
He reached into the folder and removed a small sheet of paper.
The writing was typed.
If you value the child, stop asking questions.
I stared at the words.
"Who sent it?""
"I don't know.""
"Why didn't you tell my father?""
"Because I believed he was already being watched. I thought telling him would put him and Evelyn in greater danger.""
I shook my head.
"You didn't protect us. You just made sure we stayed ignorant.""
Arthur accepted the accusation without protest.
Then he opened the folder to its final page.
"I've kept one thing from you, Evelyn. Not because I wanted to deceive you, but because I didn't know whether it was true.""
Detective Ward moved closer.
"What is it?""
Arthur slid the page toward us.
It was a photocopy of a laboratory record.
The sample number matched the number on the blue bottle.
But the date was different.
The sample had been tested again six months after my mother's death.
The authorization carried another signature.
Not Daniel Mercer.
Not Renata Mercer.
Arthur Finch.
I stared at him.
"You ordered the second test?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because I found a sealed container among your mother's papers. It held residue from the original sample. I wanted to know what it contained.""
"Did you get the results?""
Arthur nodded.
"What did they say?""
He looked at Detective Ward.
"The results indicated that the substance could have caused severe poisoning under certain circumstances. But the report also identified traces of another chemical that appeared to have been added later.""
My stomach twisted.
"Added by whom?""
"We couldn't determine that.""
Detective Ward took the document.
"Where is the original?""
Arthur's face changed.
"It was in my office until yesterday.""
"And now?""
"It's gone.""
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Then one of the officers approached the desk.
"Detective, we've finished searching the reception area. There's something you should see.""
Ward followed him toward the doorway.
Arthur remained seated.
I stared at him.
"Did you kill my mother?""
His face crumpled.
"No.""
"Did you help someone cover up her death?""
He looked down at his hands.
"I helped someone conceal the truth.""
"Who?""
Before he could answer, the officer returned carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a silver key.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to the wardrobe in my father's dressing room.
The wardrobe Renata had kept locked.
The wardrobe where Dad had found the gowns before destroying them.
Detective Ward held up the bag.
"This was found beneath the floorboard behind your desk, Mr. Finch.""
Arthur stared at it.
For the first time that evening, he looked genuinely terrified.
Then he whispered five words.
"She told me it was empty.""
I stepped backward.
"Who told you?""
Arthur raised his eyes to mine.
"Your stepmother.""
And before Detective Ward could ask another question, the lights in the office went out.
A crash came from the reception area.
Someone shouted.
Then I heard Arthur scream my name.
"Evelyn, get down!""
I dropped to the floor as a window shattered above the desk.
A sharp report split the darkness.
When the emergency lights flickered on, Arthur was lying beside his chair, one hand pressed against his shoulder.
Detective Ward shouted for medical assistance.
The officer near the door drew his weapon.
And through the broken window, I saw a figure disappearing into the alley.
The person was wearing a dark coat.
On their right hand, something silver caught the light.
May you like
A heavy ring.
With a square black stone.
