Emma’s wailing cries interrupted him. “I knew it! Oh, my God, Jack, what has she done?”
Jack enveloped his sobbing wife in his strong arms.
Mr. White poured Emma a glass of water, and she drank it down.
“We believe this entire organization is fraudulent, taking advantage of people,” Jack said, gently rocking Emma back and forth.
Mr. White took notes on a rapidly filling legal pad. “We need the names of others who invested in this fund who can corroborate that the organization is fraudulent. If it’s a Ponzi-type scheme, it could be awhile before other investors come forward. The IRS will review their 501(c)(3) status. We may have a chance at getting some of the funds Ruth donated back. I can’t promise the outcome will be in our favor, but we’ll pursue it.”
Emma dabbed at her moist eyes with a tissue. “How can we do that?”
The lawyer stopped writing for a moment, facing them squarely. “Historically, US law operated on the principle that once a gift was given, it couldn’t be taken back. Around ten years ago that started to change, with some courts giving donors greater control over their gifts, but enforcement varies by state. Let me research this, starting with whether Missouri has a Uniform Trust Code.”
“Even a ballpark figure of the money Ruth has left would be helpful,” Jack said, releasing Emma from his hold.
“We understand the urgency,” Mr. Osborne added. “Raymond and I will begin a thorough accounting of Mrs. Perkins’s assets. The estate isn’t terribly large, so we’ll have numbers to you in a matter of days.”
Emma realized she was panting. Grabbing Jack’s hand again, she thanked the men. “The state of my mother’s finances has been a great shock. I’m desperately hoping you find more money.”
55
FRIDAY, AUGUST 8, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI RAY AND SUSANNAH’S HOME
Ray was home early, hoping to surprise his bride. He thought they might have dinner at a restaurant they had been wanting to try, and then . . . He smiled to himself as he reached the mailbox.
He sorted the pile—the usual bills, magazines, and a letter from his financial advisor. That’s odd. I already got my quarterly statement, Ray thought. He carried the stack into the house, found a letter opener, and slit it open.
Ray read the statement twice. This was a confirmation letter that twenty-five thousand dollars had been withdrawn from the account. What the hell? It was a beautiful Friday in late summer, and his financial advisor was probably on a golf course. Nevertheless, he called the office number.
His advisor, Shaun, hadn’t left yet.
“Hi, Shaun. This is Ray Williams, and I have a question.”
“Sure,” the young man said. “What can I do for you?”
“I received a confirmation notice in today’s mail that I withdrew twenty-five thousand from my portfolio. I don’t recall that being discussed at our quarterly meeting.”
“Right. The plan was to keep your holdings as is. I’ll pull up your account,” Shaun said as computer keys clacked in Ray’s ear. “Susannah Williams made the withdrawal on Thursday, July thirty-first. Mrs. Williams met with Amy Schultz.”
“Can I speak with Ms. Schultz please?” Ray was infuriated.
“Amy’s on vacation until Tuesday the twelfth. I can give you her voicemail or find another associate. Both your names are on the account,” Shaun said, as if trying to calm Ray by reminding him that Ray was not the sole person with access.
“Give me her voicemail,” Ray responded briskly. “Thanks for your assistance.”
That evening, Ray sat in the living room recliner, listening to his wife trying to explain why the funds were missing.
“We’re married, Ray! I shouldn’t have to ask permission to withdraw our money!” Susannah was defensive, arms tight over her chest, standing rigidly before him.
“Susannah, twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money. It has nothing to do with your asking my permission—”
“Oh, I think it does,” she replied sharply. “You don’t trust me, Ray. I was going to tell you, but not now.”
Ray felt the clench of his jaw tighten. “I do trust you. But as your husband, I have a right to know how our money is being spent. And why not tell me now?”
“Because it’s for us,” she spat. “If I tell you too soon, it will ruin everything.”
Ray stood. “Tell me!” he nearly shouted at her.
Susannah waved him off. “I can’t talk to you right now,” she yelled, stomping from the room.
He decided against following her, mulling over her words, their screaming argument on endless repeat in his head.
A few minutes later, Susannah handed him a large whiskey and 7 Up. “I’m going out for a long walk. Maybe this will calm you down.”
Ray accepted the glass and heard the back door slam. He needed to be reasonable and work this out. He drank deeply. The Marker’s Mark was strong, the drink was sweet, and he relaxed.
SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 9, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI LINDA’S CONDO
Linda had found a Pilates class she enjoyed and was happy to keep her exercise routine consistent. Waiting for DNA confirmation became excruciating, as was watching the days slip by. She had returned home, still dressed in workout clothes, when the doorbell rang.
That’s interesting, Malachi didn’t mention anything about meeting. Who else could it be?
She peered through the peephole to see a deliveryman holding an exquisite arrangement of brilliantly hued flowers. Embarrassed her attire wasn’t more appropriate, she cracked the door a sliver.
“Ms. Sinclair?”
“That’s me,” she responded cheerfully. Gorgeous flowers were arranged in a crystal vase. These must be from Ray and Susannah for my donation.
“Quite beautiful,” the deliveryman commented. “Enjoy them.”
Linda brought the arrangement into the kitchen, gingerly removing it from the plastic bag. She opened the card, expecting a note from the Williamses.
Linda,
Thought some fresh flowers would give your spirits a lift. It’s been a tough haul, but we’re almost there. You’ve done an outstanding job.
M
The last person to send her flowers had been Tom. Linda wasn’t sure what to think. This was a lovely gesture on Malachi’s part, but was it an implication of something deeper? She had feelings for him that went beyond just being partners. Linda had known since that night in the parking garage when the out-of-control car nearly hit them. He’d pulled her aside and held her so tenderly. She had been comfortable in his arms, placing shaking hands on his forearm without realizing it until later. Did Malachi have feelings for her, too?
She caught herself spinning fantasies, admonishing herself to stop. We are caring partners, nothing else.
Placing the flowers in the dining room, Linda pushed any thoughts of romance aside and went to shower.
56
SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, EARLY AFTERNOON ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI RAY AND SUSANNAH’S HOME
Ray woke up in the leather living room recliner with a blanket tucked around him. He pushed the chair into an upright position and rubbed the back of his neck. His muscles were stiff and sore. How long had he been here?