Chapter 6 - Uncovering the Fraud
The reckless move came sooner than expected.
At two o'clock on Thursday afternoon, the cabin’s perimeter perimeter sensors alerted me to a vehicle approaching the security gate two miles down the private access road.
I pulled up the surveillance camera feed on the primary monitor. A sleek black town car was idling at the heavy steel gate. Out stepped Vanessa, dressed in a sharp business suit, her hair pulled back tightly. But her eyes were rimmed with red, her composure visibly cracking.
Behind her, Richard paced near the bumper, running both hands through his slicked-back hair, smoking a cigarette with frantic, jerky motions.
They hadn't come to wire the rent. They had come to force a negotiation.
I pressed the intercom button connected to the gate terminal. "You're trespassing on Blackwood Trust property."
Richard jumped at the sound of my voice coming from the hidden speaker box. He lunged toward the call box.
"Arthur! Open the damn gate! We drove four hours through these backwoods! We need to talk like civilized people!"
"Civilized people pay their debts, Richard," I replied calmly. "And they don't forge power-of-attorney documents on dying women."
Richard froze. His face went entirely pale, his cigarette slipping from his fingers onto the gravel road. He looked toward Vanessa, terror written into every line of his forehead.
"Dad, please," Vanessa begged, pushing Richard aside and leaning close to the camera lens. Her voice broke, and for a fleeting second, I saw the vulnerable girl who used to skin her knees on the bicycle path. "Richard told me everything. He made mistakes, Dad. Huge mistakes. But if Victor Cruz doesn't get paid, they are going to take the house! They’re going to seize everything Mom left me!"
"Your mother didn't leave you an asset, Vanessa. She left you an education," I said through the speaker. "You watched Richard kick me out of my own home of forty-three years. You told me not to cry. You stood on that marble driveway and called me a burden."
"I was under stress!" she cried out. "Richard convinced me that you were trying to control us! He said you were hoarding Mom’s money!"
"And you believed him because it was convenient," I said. "Because you wanted the mansion, the prestige, and the social standing. You wanted to play lady of the manor without understanding the sacrifice it took to build it."
"Arthur, listen to reason!" Richard yelled, regaining his venomous edge. "If the house goes into foreclosure, Cruz’s lawyers will litigate the land rights! They’ll tie up your precious mountain retreat for decades! Sign a deed-of-release for the beachfront parcel! Just give us fifty percent of the land rights so we can refinance! If you don't, we all go down together!"
I leaned forward toward the microphone, my voice dropping to a low, resolute whisper.
"Richard, you still don't understand who you're dealing with. Look at your phone."
A second later, Richard’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with shaking hands. It was an email notification from the State Department of Financial Regulation, copying the County Prosecutor's Office. Daniel had formally submitted the forensic audit of the forged bridge loan.
"Consider your tenancy terminated," I said. "You have until Friday at five to vacate the Bluff."
May you like
I cut the intercom connection. On the screen, Richard looked at his phone, dropped to his knees in the dirt, and vomited into the gravel.
***
