Chapter 9 - THE TRUST THAT DISAPPEARED
Thomas gave us the name of an attorney who had represented Robert shortly before his death.
Elliot Crane.
Mark had never heard of him.
The next morning, we drove to Crane's office with a detective.
The attorney was eighty-one, retired, and very surprised to see Mark.
"I have been waiting nearly nineteen years for you," he said.
Mark froze.
Crane opened an old fireproof cabinet and removed a thick envelope.
At the time of Robert's death, the assets were worth roughly $1.8 million.
Today, Crane estimated they could be worth more than $6 million.
"Why didn't I know?" Mark asked.
Crane's face tightened.
"Because your mother told me you wanted nothing to do with your father's estate. She brought me a notarized letter carrying your signature."
Another forged signature.
Diane had claimed Mark rejected the inheritance.
"I eventually suspected something was wrong," Crane said. "But by then, the trustee had changed."
"Who became trustee?"
Crane turned the folder toward us.
Diane Mercer.
My husband stared at the page as if it were written in another language.
"She stole my father's trust."
"Possibly," Crane said. "But trusts leave paper trails."
He produced annual statements.
At first, the assets remained intact.
Then, twelve years ago, one property was sold.
Eight years ago, another.
Four years ago, the manufacturing shares disappeared from the schedule entirely.
The proceeds had flowed through companies we did not recognize.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Silver Creek Events LLC.
The same company behind the forged $480,000 guaranty.
"She's using the old trust to support new loans," I said.
Crane nodded grimly.
Then he reached the final page.
"There is one asset she could not sell."
It was a lakefront parcel Robert had placed under a restriction requiring Mark's genuine consent.
Estimated value: $2.4 million.
Mark exhaled. "So she forged the guaranty because she needs cash."
Crane shook his head.
"No. She needs your signature for something much larger."
He slid another document across the desk.
May you like
The closing date was Monday.
Three days away.
