Chapter 6 - MARIANNE MERCER
Marianne was not stealing.
The bank records proved it.
M.M. referred to an account:
MERCER MEDICAL.
A fund created to pay for Marianne’s cancer treatment.
Why would stolen money pay her hospital bills?
Patrick’s notes answered.
Thaddius had debts.
Charles Vale offered money.
In exchange, Thaddius opened shell medical accounts under his sister’s name.
Money flowed through.
Then out.
Small amount actually paid Marianne’s bills.
Most continued elsewhere.
Thaddius participated.
Maybe not mastermind.
Definitely complicit.
Cora confronted him with attorneys present.
No Wesley violence.
Thaddius looked sober for once.
Older.
Smaller.
“You used Mom’s cancer.”
His face collapsed.
“I was trying to help.”
“By laundering money?”
“I didn’t know that word then.”
“You knew it wasn’t clean.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“How much did you get?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Cora laughed.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
For twenty years of lies.
For her trust.
Her building.
Her life.
Then:
“Did you kill my father?”
“No.”
Immediate.
He cried.
“I swear.”
Cora hated that part of her believed him.
“What happened?”
Thaddius told his version.
Patrick confronted Charles Vale.
Then called Thaddius.
Asked him to take Cora for one night.
Patrick planned to meet someone at the docks.
Never returned.
Police later reported accident.
Thaddius panicked.
Then discovered custodial authority gave him access to Cora’s trust.
At first, he used money for her.
Rent.
Food.
School.
Then his own debts.
Then more.
Each withdrawal easier.
He told himself raising a child cost money.
Some did.
Most became his.
Cora stared.
“Why tell me Dad abandoned me?”
Thaddius cried harder.
“Because if you loved him, you’d ask questions.”
There it was.
He needed her gratitude pointed at himself.
So he killed Patrick’s memory.
Not body.
Memory.
Then:
“Did you hit him?”
“No.”
“Follow him?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
Thaddius hesitated.
“Yes.”
Cora’s pulse sharpened.
He had seen Patrick leave for docks.
A black Cain company car followed.
Driver:
Charles Vale.
Passenger:
A woman.
Who?
Thaddius never saw face.
Only red coat.
Then Cora remembered Patrick’s coded invoices.
One recurring letter:
R.
Experts assumed route.
Maybe red?
No.
Then Rowan Sr.’s old investigator report mentioned Eleanor Price interviewed a woman wearing red to every meeting.
Why would that matter?
They located Eleanor.
Alive.
Eighty-two.
Living in Maine.
She agreed to speak.
“I was paid to stop.”
By Charles Vale.
She took money.
Regretted it.
Kept copies anyway.
Good accountant.
Who was the woman?
Eleanor answered:
“Vivian Cain.”
Wesley’s aunt.
His father’s sister.
Still alive.
Still on Cain Holdings board.
And one of the warmest, most charitable women in Boston society.
Cora had served her dinner at Il Farro twice.
Vivian Cain had smiled at her.
May you like
Called her sweetheart.
And tipped forty percent.
