Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE IN MALIBU
The Malibu house existed.
So did the reservation.
But neither Vanessa nor Julian owned it.
Not yet.
A luxury broker in California had received an inquiry four months earlier regarding a $12.6 million home above Carbon Beach.
The potential buyer was listed as:
J. Mercer.
The accompanying note said:
Closing contingent on liquidity event expected Q1.
Arthur read the email from his hospital bed.
“What liquidity event?”
Rebecca did not answer.
She did not need to.
Arthur’s death.
Or something connected to it.
The broker’s file came through company counsel because Julian had stupidly sent the inquiry from a Vance Contract Furnishings email account.
“Who was the second occupant?”
Arthur asked.
Rebecca scrolled.
“No name.”
“Vanessa?”
“The email says ‘partner.’”
Arthur looked away.
That word hurt more than mistress.
Partners built futures.
Partners made plans.
He had thought Vanessa was his.
Detective Alvarez arrived with photographs from the Naperville search.
The house had been preserved under warrant.
Vanessa was not allowed to remove items within the warrant scope.
In the kitchen pantry, investigators found three bottles labeled as nutritional supplements.
The capsules looked ordinary.
White.
The same kind Vanessa handed Arthur nightly.
“They’re at the lab,” Alvarez said.
“In her bathroom?”
“No prescription digoxin.”
“Garage?”
“No.”
“Any pill containers from Edward Mercer?”
“Not yet.”
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
Alvarez placed another photograph in front of him.
The master-bedroom closet.
A locked jewelry drawer.
Inside was a prepaid phone.
Arthur did not recognize it.
“Whose?”
“We’re checking.”
The device contained a Signal account.
Messages had been deleted.
Forensic extraction might recover some metadata, maybe content, maybe not.
Again, reality had no obligation to cooperate.
Then Alvarez showed him a photograph from Vanessa’s purse.
A handwritten list.
Dates.
Numbers.
Arthur read.
4/17 — 0.125
4/24 — 0.125
5/2 — skip
5/6 — 0.25
5/15 — 0.125
“What is that?”
“We don’t know.”
Arthur did.
Or thought he did.
Dose scheduling.
“Digoxin tablets come in those strengths.”
Alvarez nodded.
“We noticed.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Vanessa had not improvised.
Someone had taught her.
That evening, the hospital moved Arthur out of intensive monitoring into a private cardiac room.
A step down.
Dr. Levin smiled for the first time.
“Your kidney function is improving.”
“My heart?”
“Still injured.”
“Permanent?”
“Too early.”
Arthur nodded.
There was always another future nobody could promise.
Rebecca waited until Levin left.
“Board audit found something.”
“What?”
“Julian has been advocating for a revision to the shareholder redemption agreement.”
Arthur frowned.
“When?”
“Past six months.”
He knew that.
Julian had complained their succession plan was outdated.
Arthur assumed it was routine.
“What change?”
Rebecca opened a document.
Under the current shareholder agreement, if Arthur died, his controlling shares would be purchased by a management-and-employee trust based on a current independent valuation.
The estate received the proceeds.
No individual executive automatically inherited control.
Julian had proposed using a fixed formula based partly on a trailing valuation.
“Why?”
“Predictability.”
“That’s what he said.”
Rebecca pointed.
“The 2019 valuation is much lower than today.”
“How much?”
“About forty-one million for your interest then.”
“And now?”
“Depending on the appraiser, sixty-three to sixty-eight.”
Arthur stared.
“If the old value were used—”
“The management group could acquire your stake far below current market value.”
“Who leads the management group?”
Rebecca did not blink.
“Julian.”
Arthur’s stomach tightened.
There was the second fortune.
Vanessa wanted his personal assets.
Julian wanted the company.
Maybe Malibu required both.
Arthur asked, “Did I ever approve the change?”
“No.”
“Board?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter.”
“Unless somebody planned to obtain your approval while you were impaired.”
Arthur looked at her.
Rebecca opened another file.
Three weeks earlier, Arthur had attended a board dinner.
He remembered almost none of it.
He had felt dizzy.
Nauseated.
Vanessa drove him home.
The next morning, Julian emailed a draft resolution to the corporate secretary.
Subject:
ARTHUR APPROVED CONCEPT LAST NIGHT — PREPARE FINAL.
Arthur stared.
“I never approved that.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You emailed me the next afternoon complaining Julian was pushing again.”
Arthur remembered.
Barely.
He had written:
I felt terrible last night. Don’t let them put anything in front of me until I can read it sober.
Except he had not been drunk.
He had been poisoned.
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“They were testing whether you’d sign.”
Arthur looked toward the rain-dark window.
“Julian knew the dosing schedule.”
“Maybe.”
“He had his father’s pills.”
“Maybe.”
“He knew the trust.”
“Yes.”
“He knew the shareholder agreement.”
“Yes.”
“And Vanessa knew when to give me the capsules.”
“Yes.”
Arthur whispered:
“They needed me sick before they needed me dead.”
Rebecca said nothing.
Then Alvarez’s phone rang.
She listened.
“Okay.”
She hung up.
“The lab finished the preliminary capsule screen.”
Arthur stared.
“Well?”
“Two bottles contain normal supplements.”
“And the third?”
“Digoxin.”
Arthur shut his eyes.
Alvarez continued.
“Some capsules have only trace amounts. Others significantly more.”
A dosing system.
Then she placed one final photograph on the bed.
The supplement bottle had a pharmacy-style label underneath Vanessa’s printed wellness label.
Investigators peeled the outer label back.
The original name was still partially visible.
EDWARD MERCER.
May you like
Arthur stared.
Julian’s dead father had just entered his bedroom.
