Chapter 13 - THEY WANTED THE FUNERAL OVER BEFORE MONDAY.
Martin Hale brought two attorneys to the deposition.
Claire brought Nora and a yellow legal pad.
She did not need the pad.
She wanted something to do with her hands.
Martin looked exactly as he had at every Mercer holiday party.
Silver tie.
Perfect cuffs.
Calm voice.
A man who had billed enough hours to learn that urgency usually belonged to the other person.
Nora began with simple questions.
How long had he represented Mercer Development?
Twenty-one years.
Did he also advise members of the Mercer family personally?
At times.
Had Evelyn called him after Daniel was hospitalized?
Yes.
When?
Approximately 1:50 a.m.
Claire looked down.
Nine minutes after Daniel was pronounced dead.
Did Evelyn tell him Claire had not been present?
Yes.
Did he speak with Claire before arranging Daniel’s transfer?
No.
Before contacting the funeral home?
No.
Before preparing documents?
No.
Before communicating any claimed spousal consent?
Martin’s attorney objected.
Nora waited.
Martin finally answered.
“No.”
Claire wrote one word on the legal pad.
NO.
Nora showed him the funeral-home authorization.
“Who added Claire Mercer’s name?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Was Mrs. Mercer present?”
“No.”
“Did she authorize you?”
“I understood that Evelyn was coordinating on behalf of the family.”
“Did Claire authorize Evelyn?”
“I was told she was not capable of handling arrangements.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Martin shifted.
“No.”
“Did you have legal authority to treat Daniel’s mother as equivalent to Daniel’s spouse?”
Another objection.
Another pause.
“I relied on information available during an emergency.”
Nora placed the email about Sunday timing in front of him.
“Why did burial before Monday matter?”
“It did not.”
“You wrote that Sunday remained strongly preferable.”
“Scheduling.”
“What was Monday?”
Martin looked at her.
“A business day.”
Claire almost laughed.
Nora didn’t.
“What else was scheduled Monday?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Was there a Mercer Development board meeting?”
Martin’s attorney objected.
Martin answered anyway.
“Yes.”
“Were you scheduled to attend?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Daniel intended to propose changes to residential operations?”
“I knew there were agenda items.”
“Did you know he had discussed resignation?”
Martin paused.
“I knew he was dissatisfied.”
“Did Evelyn?”
“I assume so.”
“Did Charles?”
“Likely.”
“Did the board?”
“Some members.”
Nora leaned forward.
“Why did you write that burial would reduce opportunities for ‘unnecessary delay regarding disposition questions’?”
Martin looked at the document.
“That phrase referred to funeral logistics.”
“Which logistics?”
“Potential objections.”
“From who?”
“Claire.”
The room changed.
Claire stopped writing.
Nora’s voice remained even.
“You anticipated that Daniel’s wife might object to burial.”
“Yes.”
“Had you spoken to her?”
“No.”
“Then why did you anticipate objection?”
Martin hesitated.
“Evelyn believed Claire might react unpredictably.”
Claire looked at him.
“Because I was poor?”
Nora touched Claire’s arm.
Martin’s attorney frowned.
Nora continued.
“What did Evelyn tell you about Claire?”
Martin glanced at his lawyer.
He answered carefully.
“That she was emotionally dependent on Daniel and likely to resist family guidance.”
Family guidance.
Claire thought of the locks.
The hotel.
The insurance.
The settlement.
Nora asked, “Did she discuss Claire’s financial dependence?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Martin looked uncomfortable for the first time.
“She said Claire would ultimately cooperate because she could not maintain her current lifestyle independently.”
Claire stared at him.
There it was.
Not grief.
Not concern.
Leverage.
Nora asked, “Did that affect the proposed settlement?”
“I don’t accept that characterization.”
“What characterization?”
“That financial dependence was being used as leverage.”
“You proposed housing, insurance, tuition, transportation, and cash in exchange for a broad release.”
“It was transition support.”
“Why not provide the support without the release?”
Martin’s mouth tightened.
“That would not be prudent.”
Prudent.
Claire almost admired the vocabulary.
There were words rich institutions used to make cruelty sound upholstered.
Nora returned to the phone wipe.
“Did you instruct anyone to erase Daniel Mercer’s device?”
“No.”
“Did Evelyn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you present when she took the phone from the hospital?”
“Yes.”
Claire sat forward.
Martin’s attorney objected to something nobody had asked.
Nora ignored him.
“Why did she take it?”
“She was concerned about company information.”
“Before Daniel’s body had even been released?”
“Yes.”
“Did she access the device?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it locked?”
“I believe so.”
“Did she know his passcode?”
“I don’t know.”
Nora showed him the IT record.
“Her executive account initiated the wipe.”
Martin studied it.
“Apparently.”
“Was the phone in her possession?”
“At that time, I believe it may have been.”
Claire closed her eyes.
That connected the chain.
Hospital.
Phone.
Wipe.
Office.
Not murder.
Not some unbelievable conspiracy.
Something simpler.
Evelyn saw her son dying and immediately began controlling the pieces that might remain after him.
Nora asked about the blue folder.
Martin denied seeing it.
Then she produced Daniel’s board memo.
Martin’s expression changed.
Small.
But Claire caught it.
“You have seen this,” Nora said.
“I’ve seen similar drafts.”
“Did you advise Evelyn about Daniel’s housing-governance proposal?”
“I advised the company.”
“Did the proposal threaten Evelyn’s authority?”
“Corporate governance is more complex than that.”
“Would it have reduced her unilateral control over family and employee housing?”
Martin did not answer for six full seconds.
“Yes.”
Claire looked down.
Nora continued.
“Would it have prevented the Ridge Road locks from being changed without notice?”
Another pause.
“Potentially.”
Claire stopped writing.
Daniel had died one day before proposing a rule that might have prevented exactly what happened to his wife.
The irony was almost unbearable.
At the end of the deposition, Martin gathered his papers.
Claire thought the worst was over.
Then Nora asked one final question.
“Mr. Hale, did Evelyn instruct you to remove anything from Daniel’s office before Monday’s canceled board meeting?”
Martin froze.
His attorney immediately said, “Do not answer.”
Nora looked at him.
“That’s not a privilege objection.”
“Counsel—”
Nora waited.
Martin stared at the table.
Finally he said, “I was present when materials were secured.”
“What materials?”
“Board-related documents.”
“Including the blue folder?”
Martin’s lawyer interrupted again.
Martin did not answer.
He did not need to.
Nora opened another exhibit.
A building-access record.
Sunday morning.
5:37 a.m.
EVELYN MERCER.
5:38 a.m.
MARTIN HALE.
5:41 a.m.
DANIEL MERCER — EXECUTIVE OFFICE DOOR OPENED.
Martin stared at the page.
Claire did too.
Daniel’s body was still at the hospital.
May you like
Claire was sitting alone in the chapel.
And Evelyn had already gone to his office.
