Tom’s mind raced. He glanced down at the desk and saw a letter from Lamar Sponcler’s office.
“Send the documents to this number,” he said, giving Nettles the fax number on Sponcler’s letterhead. “It’s a law firm around the corner from me.”
“I can’t do that unless you’ll be there to receive it.”
“I’ll go as soon as we hang up.”
“Owen, this is highly irregular,” Nettles said.
“I know,” Harrelson said. “I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me about this.”
“Mr. Crane, may I have your word that you will shred the documents as soon as you review them?” Nettles asked.
“Yes,” Tom answered.
Tom knew the documents were meaningless. Establishing the connection between Harrelson and Nettles was the important thing.
“I’ll load the information into the machine within the next five minutes,” Nettles said. “Good day to you both.”
“Thanks, George,” Harrelson said. “That’s all.”
Nettles clicked off.
“And I don’t want to hear any other objections from you,” Harrelson added to Tom. “I’ll see you next week in Bethel. Make sure there won’t be any holdups.” Tom chuckled at Harrelson’s choice of words. The call ended, and he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I’m going to Lamar Sponcler’s office to pick up a fax,” he said to Bernice as he left the office.
Tom walked around the corner and down two blocks to a building with a large sign on the front that read “Lamar Sponcler, Trial Lawyer.” Tom pushed open the door. Betty Sosebee, Sponcler’s longtime secretary, was talking on the phone. The gray-haired woman saw Tom and motioned for him to sit down. Behind Betty’s desk Tom saw a fax machine. As he watched, it began to slowly spit out a sheet of paper. Betty hung up the phone.
“Hey, Tom,” she said. “Lamar is at a hearing in Catoosa County, but I expect him back soon. Do you want me to have him give you a buzz?”
“No thanks. I came over to pick up a fax. My father didn’t have a machine so I gave someone your number. I hope it was okay.”
Betty spun around in her chair. “This may be it right now.”
As she picked up the top sheet of paper, Tom quickly walked over to the machine and took it from her hand. “This is it,” he said.
“Top secret?” Betty smiled.
“Sorry, but in a way it is.”
The cover page was followed by three forms, all with Harold Addington’s signature on the bottom. Tom folded them in two.
“Thanks, Betty,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Don’t worry about it. When Lamar gets focused on something he can be a pain to deal with. Let me know if I can help in the future.”
Outside on the sidewalk, Tom looked at Addington’s signature and decided to add a step of his own to verifying Harrelson’s scheme. He walked down the street to the courthouse and into the probate court office. A young female clerk was on duty. Tom introduced himself.
“Where’s Sara Jo?” Tom asked, referring to the usual clerk on duty.
“Out of town with her daughter who’s having a baby. May I help you?”
“I’d like to see the file for Harold Addington’s estate.”
“Sure.” The clerk got up from her desk and walked over to a filing cabinet.
The clerk pulled a folder from the cabinet and handed it to Tom. “Do you want to take it from the office?”
“No. I can check it here.”
There was a shelf built into the wall opposite the clerk’s desk. Tom placed the file on the shelf and turned to Addington’s will. Flipping to the last page, he compared the dead man’s signature on the will to the signatures on the forms sent by Nettles. There was no doubt. The signatures were identical. Most likely Harrelson and Nettles transferred the signature by obtaining it in an electronic format from another source and inserting it onto the bank forms. Whatever their method, the result was impeccable. If he’d not talked to Arthur, Tom’s suspicions of Harold Addington would have resurfaced. He handed the file to the clerk.
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s all I needed.”
“You’re welcome. Come back anytime. I’ll be filling in for two more weeks, then it’s back to the county commissioner’s office. I like it a lot better over here. It’s so quiet and peaceful. Over there all I ever hear is complaints about sewer problems.”
“That stinks.”
The woman laughed. Tom smiled crookedly at his unintended pun.
There wasn’t a shredder at his father’s office, so Tom went down the hall to the clerk of court, who let him run the sheets through her machine. With a sense of finality, Tom returned to the office. The rest of Tom’s day was as quiet as the probate court office. Late in the afternoon he thought about Rose Addington and called her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked quickly.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve just been agitated all day.”
“Maybe it would do you good to get out of the house for a while. Could I come by and take you for a drive?”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere you like.”
Rose was silent for a moment. “This may sound strange, but I’d like to go to the pond where the accident happened. Before I leave Bethel I need to get some closure. Would you be willing to take me there?”
“Absolutely. What you’re saying makes perfect sense to me.”
______
The afternoon was cool, and Rose was wearing a sweater and jeans. During the drive to Austin’s Pond, Tom told her what happened when he went there with Elias.
“That’s powerful,” Rose said. “I need to get into the river of grief and follow the tributary God has for me.”
They turned onto the access road for the pond. “Do you want to walk to the pond or drive directly to it?”
“A walk would be good.”
Tom parked near the pasture gate. “We can take this old roadbed. It’s less than half a mile to the water.”
At one point they had to cross a narrow ditch. Tom held out his hand to help Rose over. Their fingers lingered together for a moment. When they reached the clearing for the pond, a breeze stirred Rose’s hair. She brushed it from her face.
“Tell me what you know,” she said.
Unlike his time with Elias, Tom wasn’t irritated by Rose’s questions. He pointed out the place where the overturned boat was found floating in the water. Rose bit her lower lip.
“Where were the bodies?”
“Between the boat and the shore.”
Rose shook her head. “It doesn’t seem that far to the land.”
“Was your father a good swimmer?”
“Decent enough. And yours?”
“Very good, but they were fully clothed, and once their clothes got wet they went down.”
Rose sighed. “My father had issues with his heart. He was on medication. It makes me wonder if he had a heart attack. Mum and I didn’t request a copy of the report by the medical examiner. Did you?”
Tom licked his lips. “Yes.”
Rose touched a partially buried rock with her toe. “I should do that too.”
“The important thing is they’re both in heaven,” Tom replied quickly.
“Yes.” Rose pointed to the opposite end of the pond. “Is that the bench where you had your cry?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to spend a bit of time there alone.”
Rose walked slowly around the pond to the concrete picnic table. Tom sat down on the grass and tossed a twig into the water. The wind pushed it away from the bank. Rose sat on the table and let her legs swing beneath her. Tom couldn’t see her face. The phone in Tom’s pocket beeped, and he took it out. It was Arthur Pelham.
“Hello,” he said.
“It’s Arthur. I have an update—”
Service was poor at the pond, and Arthur’s voice cut in and out. Tom kept talking as he quickly walked
up the slight hill that led down to the pond.
“—according to the US Attorney’s Office in Washington,” Arthur said and stopped.
“I only heard that last part,” Tom said. “I’m at Austin’s Pond and service is lousy.”
“Why are you there?” Arthur asked.
“Rose Addington wanted to come. It has to do with saying good-bye to her father.”
“Can she hear you now?”
“No, she’s at the other end of the pond. I’m standing on top of a little hill nearby.”
“Did you understand anything I said?”
“Not really, you were cutting in and out.”
“I’ll start over. Nice work with Harrelson and Nettles. The US Attorney’s Office called and told me they were able to record everything. There’s no doubt the two of them have been working together this whole time.”
“Good. Who’s handling the investigation? You never sent me the name of the government lawyer you spoke to in New York.”
“She was taken off the case once it went to Washington. Anyway, your part is finished. The last step is to transfer the money from the trust account. I’m going to give you the wiring instructions for our bank in Barbados. Confirmation for receipt of the wire will be delivered to your e-mail address. Here’s the number.”
Before Tom could tell Arthur that he didn’t have anything to write on, the older man rattled off a long number.
“Send me an e-mail with the wiring instructions,” Tom said. “I don’t have anything to write on.”
“Do you have a pen?”
Tom felt in his pocket. “Yes.”
“Then write it on your hand if you have to. I’m in a limo on my way to the airport where I’m getting on a plane to Japan and won’t be back for six days. I want to know this is taken care of before I get in the air.”
“Okay, but please give it to me slowly.”
Tom carefully wrote the numbers on the palm of his left hand, then read them back to Arthur.
“That’s it,” Arthur said. “I had to use a different corresponding bank than normal because the money is in the local bank in Bethel. We stopped using Bethel Commercial Bank & Trust years ago. If you wire the money first thing in the morning, the deposit should be confirmed by the time I’m on the ground in Japan.”
“I’d still like to get an order from Judge Caldwell authorizing transfer of the funds.”
“Is that really necessary at this point?” Arthur asked. “Everyone except Harrelson agrees the money belongs to our investors, and I want those funds properly credited to our clients’ accounts as soon as possible. We’ll have to make up the lost interest, but that’s a pittance in the overall scheme of things.”
Tom couldn’t come up with a good argument for a court order except it had been part of his plan before he found out what really happened. Arthur had a legitimate reason to set things right as soon as possible, and Tom had the information he needed for the estate file.
“All right. I guess there’s no one left to complain except Harrelson.”
“From what I’ve been told, he’ll be taken into custody this weekend. The British authorities can deal with Nettles at the same time.” There was a brief pause. “I’m at the airport. Thanks again for all you’ve done. When I get back, we’ll sit down and see what I can do to help you professionally.”
The call ended. Tom returned to the pond. Harrelson and the saga of designated trust account were history.
It was time to concentrate on Rose Addington.
chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tom stepped into the clearing and glanced toward the picnic table. Rose wasn’t there. He quickly looked around the pond but didn’t see her.
“Rose!” he called out.
There was no answer. He started jogging around the pond toward the picnic table. He stopped and called out again.
“Rose!”
“Over here,” a faint voice replied.
He turned in the direction of the sound. “Where are you?” he called out.
“The road!”
Tom continued around the pond and saw Rose walking down the roadway behind the barn toward him.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, slightly out of breath.
“Just walking. I looked up, and you were gone. What were you doing?”
“Arthur called and gave me instructions for returning the money in the designated trust account to Pelham Financial. I couldn’t get a clear signal until I walked up the hill.” Tom held out his hand. “These wiring numbers are worth almost two million dollars.”
“Then make sure you don’t wash your hand.”
Tom motioned toward the picnic table. “How was your time alone?”
“A bit empty. I’m not sure what I expected, but there isn’t much for me here, at least not now. Today isn’t my day.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rose smiled. “We British have to maintain our reputation for a stiff upper lip and pressing on with dogged determination in the face of hardship.”
“What does pressing on mean for you now?”
Rose didn’t hesitate. “Following the call of the Lord to serve the children I can help.”
It was the kind of unselfish answer Tom had never heard from another human being his age before he met Rose Addington. He looked down at her, not sure if he wanted to kiss her stiff upper lip or applaud her fortitude.
“Are you ready to leave?” she asked.
“Yes.”
When they reached the car, Tom copied the wiring instructions from his hand onto a slip of paper.
“What else did Mr. Pelham say?” Rose asked.
“The federal government has taken over the case. With all the investor fraud that’s happened during the past few years, things like this get immediate attention. By the first of the week, we’ll be reading about Owen Harrelson in the newspaper and on the Internet.”
“That’s sad.”
“How can you say that after he set up your father as the fall guy if his scheme went bad?” Tom asked in surprise.
“Do you think our fathers are looking down from heaven wishing ill toward any person?”
Tom didn’t reply, but he wouldn’t mind knocking Owen Harrelson to the ground, so long as it didn’t break Tom’s hand. The arrogant executive could have killed Randall Freiburger and attempted to embezzle $1,750,000. They drove back to Esther’s house.
“When will I see you again?” Tom asked as he walked Rose to the door.
“I’m available,” she replied with a smile. “Within reason, of course. You have my number.”
“Give me a reason.”
Rose paused. “I’ve heard about a scenic overlook near a big rock where people paint messages—”
“I can take you there,” Tom cut in.
“You wouldn’t mind? I feel like I’m asking you to be my personal tour guide.”
“One who loves his new job. How about Saturday?”
“So long as it’s in the morning. Mum and I have plans for the afternoon.”
“Morning is great. I’ll pick you up about seven thirty. Wear comfortable shoes.”
______
Tom found Elias sitting in the front room.
“How was your time with Rose Addington?” the old man asked.
“Good. She’s different from any other woman I’ve met.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Your matchmaking days are over. Just be glad God answered your prayers for my soul.”
“What I pray isn’t up to you. Oh, Lane Conner called while you were out.”
“Did he leave a message?”
“No, he just asked me to have you call him back.”
Tom checked his watch. “I’ll try to connect with him on Sunday. I need to schedule my baptism before the creek gets clogged with ice.”
“Yes!” Elias clapped his hands together so loudly that Rover’s head popped up from the floor.
______
The following morn
ing Tom went to Bethel Commercial Bank & Trust. Charles Loughton wasn’t available, so a young bank officer helped him complete the wire transfer. The young man didn’t seem interested in asking questions, which suited Tom. Fifteen minutes later Tom walked out of the bank, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath. He was a free man.
Back at his father’s office, he turned on his computer. There was an e-mail in his in-box from Owen Harrelson, sent the previous evening and asking Tom to call. He ignored it. After lunch he told Bernice she could go home. There wasn’t much left for her, or him, to do.
By the end of the day, Tom had finished going through the few remaining files in his father’s office. He typed a few letters and stuck them in envelopes. It would take a day to dispose of the outdated library and pack up his father’s personal belongings. There wasn’t even enough money left in the operating account to pay Bernice’s wages. Tom’s own bank account was shrinking rapidly. It was time for action.
He called Nate Becker to accept the job and set a start date, but the Atlanta lawyer was out of the office until the following week. Tom hesitated for moment, then left a short message to return the call. He didn’t want to communicate something as important as acceptance of a job via voice mail.
He and Elias had a quiet supper.
“What are you going to do when I’m gone and no one is bringing you food?” Tom asked.
“Eat a good breakfast. That’s easier for me to cook. After that, I’ll eat sandwiches and fruit. Before you came I wasn’t taking good care of myself, so anything will be an improvement.”
Elias ate a bite of corn casserole.
“Did you talk to Lane Conner?” the old man asked.
“No, remember, I’m going to get with him on Sunday.”
“That’s right,” Elias said. “I forgot. How are things at the office?”
“About done. I sent Bernice home early today. Tomorrow morning Rose Addington and I are going to hike up to look at the painted rock.”
“With or without Rover?”
Tom looked at the dog, who was curled up near his water bowl in the corner of the kitchen.
“I don’t think he had a very good time the other day. He’ll be happier napping at your feet in the living room.”
Water's Edge Page 27