Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN’S PRESCRIPTION
Edward Mercer had been dead for eight months.
His digoxin prescription was not.
At least not entirely.
Detective Alvarez explained what investigators knew and what they did not.
Edward’s pharmacy had dispensed ninety tablets six weeks before his death.
Hospice records documented that medications were later changed.
Nobody had reconciled every remaining tablet after the funeral.
That was not unusual.
What mattered was access.
Julian had signed the hospice medication-disposal form.
The form stated unused medications would be surrendered.
Whether they actually were was another question.
Arthur listened from his bed.
His heart rhythm had improved enough that the monitor no longer sounded like an argument every ten minutes.
Dr. Levin remained cautious.
“You’re responding.”
“That means?”
“It means you’re responding.”
Arthur hated doctors who had learned from lawyers.
“Am I dying this week?”
Levin looked at him.
“I no longer think I can tell you that.”
Arthur almost laughed.
It hurt too much.
At noon, Vanessa arrived.
Security stopped her outside the cardiac unit.
Arthur watched the text messages come in.
WHY CAN’T I COME UP?
ARTHUR?
THE NURSE SAID YOU RESTRICTED ME.
WHAT IS GOING ON?
Then:
JULIAN SAYS YOUR LAWYER IS THERE.
Arthur read that twice.
“How would Julian know?”
Rebecca looked up.
“Know what?”
“That you’re here.”
“I didn’t tell him.”
Arthur stared at the phone.
Then another message.
PLEASE DON’T LET REBECCA SCARE YOU. YOU’RE SICK.
There it was.
Not:
Are you okay?
Not:
Why can’t I see you?
Rebecca.
Paperwork.
Control.
Arthur handed the phone to Detective Alvarez when she returned.
“She knows Rebecca is here.”
Alvarez photographed the messages.
“Don’t speculate yet about how.”
Arthur looked at her.
“You say that a lot.”
“I have fewer appeals that way.”
By late afternoon, detectives had obtained consent from Arthur to review certain home-security logs and had begun the warrant process for the Naperville residence with DuPage County authorities.
Different jurisdictions.
Different agencies.
Nothing moved as quickly as Arthur wanted.
His own company was faster.
At 4:20 p.m., Arthur asked Rebecca to contact Margaret Ellis, the independent chair of Vance Contract Furnishings’ board.
“Tell her I’m ill.”
“She knows.”
“Tell her there’s a criminal investigation involving Julian.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“That is material.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want him suspended?”
“No.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I want to know what he does.”
She stared at him.
“You are not running a sting operation from a cardiac bed.”
“I’m chairman.”
“You’re a patient.”
Arthur almost smiled.
Margaret made the decision for him.
Once told law enforcement was investigating a possible connection between Julian and Arthur’s poisoning, the board placed Julian on paid administrative leave pending review.
Not guilt.
Risk management.
At 5:03, Julian called Arthur.
Arthur let it ring.
Then a voicemail.
“Art, it’s me. I heard the board went crazy. Rebecca won’t tell me anything. Call me. Whatever this is, we’ll fix it.”
Arthur listened twice.
We’ll fix it.
Julian had said that phrase for two decades.
Bad quarter.
Broken lender covenant.
Plant fire.
Failed acquisition.
We’ll fix it.
Arthur deleted nothing.
That evening, Caleb came by.
Not because Arthur summoned him.
Because his shift brought him to the unit.
“How are you?”
“Apparently less dead.”
Caleb smiled.
“That’s a good direction.”
Arthur studied him.
“You work nights too?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
Caleb hesitated.
“You already heard the nurses.”
“Mia.”
His little sister.
Congenital heart disease.
Multiple prior surgeries.
Now a complex revision procedure.
Arthur had overheard enough hallway conversation to know the family’s insurance dispute had become brutal.
“Two point four million?” Arthur asked.
Caleb’s face closed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn this into that.”
“Into what?”
“You’re rich. I helped you. My sister is sick.”
Arthur looked at him.
“I didn’t offer anything.”
“You were going to.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“You’re annoying.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Caleb adjusted the blanket.
“My sister has a care team. We’re fighting insurance. There’s a hospital assistance program. We’ll figure it out.”
Arthur stared.
“People like you are why I built money.”
Caleb looked at him.
“No.”
Arthur frowned.
Caleb continued.
“People like you build money because you like building things.”
Then he walked out.
Arthur almost laughed.
The young man was right.
That embarrassed him.
At nine, Rebecca returned with preliminary corporate records.
Julian’s administrative leave had triggered an automatic review of access logs.
One thing stood out.
Six weeks earlier, Julian had opened Arthur’s confidential succession-planning folder.
“What’s in that folder?”
Rebecca asked.
“Shareholder agreement. Trust summary. Buy-sell provisions.”
“Would he normally access it?”
“He’s CFO.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Arthur looked away.
“No.”
Rebecca scrolled.
Julian had opened the documents at 11:46 p.m.
Downloaded two.
One was the 2019 company valuation.
The other was Arthur’s prior trust summary naming Vanessa as primary successor beneficiary.
The exact information required to tell a woman what she might receive when her husband died.
Rebecca continued.
“There’s more.”
Julian accessed Arthur’s medical leave policy too.
Same night.
Arthur’s pulse jumped.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
The same week Arthur’s archived blood sample showed digoxin.
Then Rebecca opened another record.
A calendar entry from Julian’s corporate account.
Private.
No attendees.
Only a title.
MALIBU — V.
Arthur stared.
Date created:
Four months earlier.
Two weeks before his first unexplained hospital admission.
Arthur looked at Rebecca.
“Find the property.”
She closed the laptop.
“Corporate counsel will.”
“No.”
“Arthur.”
He looked toward the cardiac monitor.
“I spent twenty-one years trusting that man.”
Rebecca’s voice softened.
“I know.”
Arthur looked at the calendar entry again.
May you like
The question was no longer whether Julian knew about Vanessa.
It was whether the affair had begun before the poisoning—or whether the poisoning had been the reason the affair existed at all.
