Chapter 8 - Follow the Money
I met Arthur Vance—no relation to Mark's sleazy lawyer—in a dimly lit diner on the edge of town. Arthur was a brilliant forensic accountant who had helped me take down a massive cartel money-laundering operation a decade ago.
I slid a thick manila folder across the sticky table. It contained photographs of the financial documents I had found in the basement, along with Sarah's trust fund account numbers.
"I need you to look into Mark Davis's investment firm, Pinnacle Holdings," I told him, sipping my black coffee. "Sarah said he lost millions. I need the paper trail. I need to prove that his motive wasn't 'saving' his wife, but liquidating her to pay off his debts."
Arthur opened the folder, his eyes scanning the documents. He let out a low whistle. "This guy is sloppy, Helen. Taking out four million in life insurance policies across three different shell companies in the span of a month? That throws up massive red flags in the underwriting algorithms."
"Find the trigger," I said. "Find the exact debt that made him desperate enough to chain her to a floor."
Forty-eight hours later, Arthur called me.
"You hit the jackpot, Helen," Arthur said, his voice crackling with excitement. "Mark isn't just in debt. He embezzled six million dollars from a private equity client. A client with deep ties to the Russian mob in Chicago. The mob gave him a deadline to return the funds: the 30th of this month."
I looked at the calendar on the hospital wall. The 30th was exactly two days away.
"If he doesn't pay them, they kill him," I realized out loud.
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"Exactly," Arthur said. "He needed Sarah dead so he could claim the insurance and the trust fund to pay off the mob. It wasn't a psychiatric intervention. It was a frantic ransom payment."
I hung up the phone, a cold smile touching my lips. Mark's lawyer could spin whatever fairy tale he wanted to the media. I now had the smoking gun.
