Chapter 4 - MARTIN HALE
Martin Hale answered the phone himself.
When Amelia said her mother’s name, there was silence.
Then he asked one question.
“Is Joanna with you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
They met that afternoon at a quiet coffee shop near his home.
Martin was seventy-four, thin, silver-haired, and careful with every word.
He remembered Amelia immediately.
“I attended your wedding.”
“I’m sorry.
I don’t remember.”
“You had five hundred people there.
I’d be concerned if you did.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Amelia almost smiled.
Then she placed the letter on the table.
Martin’s expression changed.
“Where did you find this?”
“Storage.”
He read the first page.
Then removed his glasses.
“I wondered if you ever received it.”
Amelia felt cold.
“Was there a trust?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“At creation, just over three hundred thousand dollars.”
“And when my mother died?”
“Approximately three hundred twenty-eight thousand.”
Amelia swallowed.
“Where is it?”
Martin looked uncomfortable.
“That became complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“Your mother created the trust, but before we completed the final transfer of authority, she suffered the stroke.”
“But the trust existed.”
“Yes.”
“Who controlled it?”
“Temporarily, your mother.”
“After she died?”
Martin hesitated.
“Joanna submitted documents identifying herself as successor trustee.”
Amelia stared at him.
“My mother wanted Joanna controlling Maisie’s money?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Martin opened a leather folder.
“I kept copies.”
He placed an old legal document in front of Amelia.
The successor trustee listed was Amelia.
Her name.
Not Joanna’s.
Amelia looked up.
“Then how did Joanna take control?”
“She filed a competing document.”
“Was it valid?”
“I did not believe so.”
“Then why didn’t you stop her?”
“I tried.”
Martin’s face tightened.
“The signature page appeared to contain your mother’s notarized amendment.”
“Appeared?”
“I had doubts.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I challenged it during probate.”
Amelia shook her head.
“I never knew.”
“You were represented by another attorney.”
“Joanna hired him.”
“I know.”
Martin leaned forward.
“Amelia, you were grieving two deaths.
You were pregnant.
Your sister told the court you were medically unable to participate in estate administration.”
Amelia’s chest tightened.
“She said what?”
“She submitted a letter from a physician stating that involvement in a prolonged legal dispute could threaten your pregnancy.”
Amelia stared at him.
“No doctor ever told me that.”
Martin nodded slowly.
“That is what I suspected.”
He opened another folder.
“There is more.”
A series of statements showed withdrawals from the trust.
$22,000.
$35,000.
$17,500.
$48,000.
The money had been moved gradually.
Over three years.
By the time Maisie turned four, less than $41,000 remained.
Amelia’s fingers went numb.
“What did she spend it on?”
“I don’t know.”
“She stole from my daughter.”
Martin did not answer immediately.
“What I can say is that significant trust assets were diverted.”
Amelia looked down at the withdrawals.
Then something caught her eye.
One transfer occurred on a date she remembered perfectly.
July 14.
Three years earlier.
The day Joanna told Amelia she had received money from an insurance settlement and was finally buying herself a car.
A white Mercedes.
Amelia closed her eyes.
Joanna had arrived at Amelia’s house with champagne.
She had hugged Maisie.
She had laughed.
She had said her luck was finally changing.
The car had cost $46,000.
The trust withdrawal two days earlier was $48,000.
Amelia opened her eyes.
May you like
Joanna had not merely depended on Amelia’s money.
She had spent Maisie’s first.
