Chapter 4 - THE MAN WITH THE SECURITY PIN
Frank Dalton had shaken my hand ninety minutes earlier and told me I was a lucky man.
Now I stood in a service corridor wondering whether he was trying to save me or help destroy me.
Martin wanted to confront him immediately.
I refused.
"If he wrote the note, he may be warning us."
"Or he may be trying to make sure you distrust every drink except the one he hands you."
"Then we watch him."
"Thomas, there are easier ways to spend a Saturday."
"Not this Saturday."
We returned to Room 324 by the service elevator.
Dr. Helen Cooper had arrived.
She was a pediatric cardiologist, one of Sarah's closest friends, and still wore the burgundy dress she had planned to wear to the wedding.
She stood beside the bed checking Genevieve's pupils with a small light.
"She needs imaging," Helen said without greeting me.
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
Genevieve protested.
"I am fine."
Helen ignored her.
"Possible concussion, possible wrist fracture, and she has been vomiting."
My stomach tightened.
"Why didn't anyone call an ambulance?"
Sarah glared at me.
"Because your daughter has inherited your pathological belief that plans are more important than bones."
Genevieve looked at me.
"I need ten more minutes."
"No."
"Pops."
"No."
She closed her eyes.
"Then take the laptop."
I sat beside her.
"Tell me what happened today."
Genevieve glanced at Toby, who was curled in an armchair with a cartoon playing silently on Sarah's phone.
"Not in front of him."
Sarah took Toby into the adjoining bathroom to help him wash chocolate from his hands.
When the door closed, Genevieve spoke.
"I arrived at the hotel at eight."
"Why so early?"
"Because David told me the partner would make a move before the ceremony."
"What move?"
"He wasn't sure."
"Useful man."
"He was terrified, Pops."
I regretted the sarcasm immediately.
"Go on."
"I used the staff entrance because I didn't want Evelyn to see me."
"How did she find you?"
"I think Frank told her."
Martin and I exchanged a look.
"Frank Dalton?"
"I saw him watching me near the loading dock."
"Did he speak to you?"
"No."
"Then what happened?"
"I went to a conference room on the second floor to copy the final files onto the USB."
"Why not do it at home?"
"Because one of the files came from the hotel system."
I frowned.
"Which file?"
"The WEDDING DAY folder."
"How did you access the hotel system?"
"David gave me credentials."
"For what?"
"Maintenance logs, room charges, and service orders."
Martin leaned closer.
"Service orders?"
Genevieve nodded.
"Open the folder."
I did.
The first document was a room service authorization for the bridal suite.
The second was a catering adjustment.
The third was a scanned handwritten note.
My name was at the top.
THOMAS VANCE - AFTER CEREMONY.
Below it was a list.
Private toast in library.
No staff present.
Blue label bottle only.
E.K. carries glasses.
F.D. confirms camera offline 4:10-4:40.
I looked at Martin.
"F.D."
"Frank Dalton."
Genevieve's voice was faint.
"That was my assumption too."
I clicked the next document.
It was a maintenance request to disable two cameras near the private library reserved for the wedding party.
The request had been submitted under Frank's employee credentials.
Reason: electrical interference during private event.
Time window: 4:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m.
My watch read 3:47.
The ceremony had been scheduled for 3:30.
The private toast would have happened almost immediately after vows.
Martin took out his phone.
"Police now."
"They are already coming."
"Then I am telling them we have an apparent plan involving an isolated room and a drink."
Genevieve touched my arm.
"There is more."
The next file was a photograph of a bottle of eighteen-year-old Scotch with a strip of blue tape on the bottom.
It had been taken in what looked like a hotel storage room.
"Do you know what is in it?" I asked.
"No."
"Then we do not assume."
Martin looked at me as if I were insane.
"Thomas, the note says do not drink anything."
"I am not drinking anything."
I opened the next file.
A scanned invoice appeared.
It was from a private medical concierge company.
The charge was for an in-home consultation performed at Evelyn's apartment eight months earlier.
The patient name was not Evelyn.
It was mine.
"I never used this company."
Genevieve nodded.
"I know."
The invoice listed a consultation for cognitive decline and cardiovascular instability.
My jaw tightened.
"This is false."
"Keep reading."
Attached was a physician letter stating that Thomas Vance had demonstrated episodes of confusion, memory loss, and poor judgment, and that his much younger partner, Evelyn Kensington, had expressed concern about his ability to manage complex financial decisions.
I stared at the document.
"That doctor has never examined me."
Martin took the laptop closer.
"I know this name."
"Who?"
"Dr. Peter Lyle."
"Should I know him?"
"He testified in the Halbrook guardianship case."
I remembered the headlines.
A wealthy older industrialist had been declared incompetent after his third wife presented medical testimony.
His children fought for two years to reverse it.
"What happened to him?"
Martin's face was grim.
"He died before the appeal finished."
I looked at Genevieve.
"Evelyn was preparing to claim I was incompetent."
"Yes."
"But my trust protects the assets."
"Unless she could get you to sign changes first."
I thought of the paperwork Evelyn had asked me to sign three nights earlier.
She had called it a routine insurance update for the wedding trip to Italy.
I had almost signed it without reading.
Genevieve had arrived unexpectedly, seen the documents, and insisted Martin review them.
Evelyn had cried afterward.
She told me Genevieve treated her like a criminal.
I had comforted Evelyn.
The memory made me feel sick.
"Where are those papers?"
"Evelyn took them."
"Did you photograph them?"
Genevieve nodded.
"BANK folder."
Before I could open it, Helen touched Genevieve's shoulder.
"We are done."
Genevieve protested.
"Five minutes."
"No."
Helen's voice hardened.
"You lost consciousness today and you are struggling to focus your eyes."
I stood.
"Sarah, take Toby with you."
Genevieve shook her head.
"Toby stays with you."
"Genevieve."
"Please."
Her fear returned.
"She won't hurt him if he is beside you."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"Has she hurt him before?"
Genevieve's eyes shifted away.
"No."
"That was not convincing."
"She grabbed his arm once."
"When?"
"Last month."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She looked directly at me.
"Because every time I told you something about her, you asked what I had done to provoke it."
I had no answer.
Helen and Sarah helped Genevieve stand.
She swayed immediately.
I caught her.
For a second she leaned against me the way she had as a child when she fell asleep in the car.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
She closed her eyes.
"Later."
"No."
I held her tighter.
"I am sorry now."
Her mouth trembled.
"Then don't let her make you doubt me again."
"Never."
Sarah took her toward the service elevator where Helen had arranged for a private car to meet them away from the lobby.
Toby stayed with me.
Martin paced beside the window.
"The officers are downstairs."
"Good."
"I am meeting them."
"Tell them not to approach Evelyn yet."
"You are enjoying giving me instructions I will ignore."
"Martin."
He paused at the door.
"What?"
"Find Frank."
"And if he runs?"
"Let him."
"Why?"
"Because if he is the partner, he may run directly to whatever he is hiding."
Martin stared at me for a long moment.
"Sometimes I forget why people hate negotiating with you."
Then he left.
I was alone with Toby and the laptop.
I opened BANK.
The first file was a photograph of the documents Evelyn had tried to make me sign.
The title at the top looked harmless.
MARITAL ASSET COORDINATION AGREEMENT.
On page nine, the language changed.
In the event of incapacity, spouse shall be designated temporary managing agent over all non-trust operating interests.
On page eleven, another clause authorized the spouse to nominate replacement trustees under certain emergency conditions.
On page thirteen, there was a signature line.
My signature was already there.
I stared at it.
It looked exactly like mine.
But I had never signed the document.
Toby climbed onto the chair beside me.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes, buddy?"
"Mommy cried when she saw your name."
I looked at the forged signature.
"I bet she did."
He pointed at the screen.
"That lady wrote it."
I turned slowly.
"What lady?"
Toby looked toward the door as if someone might be listening.
Then he whispered.
"Grandma Caroline's friend."
My blood ran cold.
"Toby, Grandma Caroline died before you were born."
He nodded seriously.
"The lady in the picture."
"What picture?"
Toby reached for the laptop trackpad and moved the cursor clumsily.
He could not navigate the folders, but he recognized what he had seen.
"Mommy showed me."
I clicked through the BANK images.
He shook his head at each one.
Then I opened MOM.
The first photograph showed Caroline, Linda Marlowe, and three foundation volunteers at a holiday event.
Toby pointed.
"Her."
His finger landed on Linda Marlowe.
I stared at the gray-haired woman I remembered only vaguely from years ago.
"Toby, have you seen her in person?"
He nodded.
"Today?"
Another nod.
"Where?"
He pointed toward the floor.
"Downstairs."
I felt the room tilt.
According to Genevieve, Linda's husband David had disappeared yesterday.
According to my memory, Linda had left Caroline's foundation years ago and vanished from our lives.
According to my three-year-old grandson, she was downstairs at my wedding.
Then the laptop screen went black.
A message appeared in white letters.
REMOTE SESSION TERMINATED.
May you like
Someone had just cut our access to the hotel's network.
