“You needed courage.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised Mason because it offered no excuse.
Arthur explained that he had founded the warehouse business with his older brother Warren and had initially trusted him to handle transfers.
When a financial investigation uncovered irregularities, Warren blamed Arthur and arranged for the board to remove him.
Arthur spent years fighting over his name, lost much of his money, and eventually settled a suit that left him with access to limited historical records.
“Then why were you outside a restaurant in that coat?” Mason asked.
Arthur studied the table.
“I’ve been staying at a shelter because my apartment flooded, and I won’t accept my niece’s offer until we’ve agreed on what happened to this property.”
“That’s not the whole reason,” Miriam said.
Arthur nodded.
“I knew The Mariner was serving a private reunion of former investors this week.”
“I wanted to see how they treated someone they thought had nothing to give them.”
Denise frowned.
“So Mason was part of a test?”
“No,” Arthur said firmly.
“I didn’t know he worked there.”
“His last name was on the name tag, and I recognized his face only after he spoke about his father.”
Mason did not immediately believe him.
Arthur opened a notebook and showed the entry he had made the previous afternoon.
The entry described a planned visit to the restaurant and the investors attending dinner.
Mason’s name did not appear until a second note written after the meal.
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Arthur said.
“I’m asking you to help decide what evidence your father wanted the public to see.”
Denise leaned forward.
“And who would own the story once he did?”
Arthur pushed the notebook toward her.
“Not me.”
Chapter 7: The First False Signature
Miriam spread three copies across the library table.
The first showed the cooperative’s vote to authorize a sale, with forty-seven signatures beneath a single date.
The second showed a list of beneficiaries entitled to payments after redevelopment.
The third showed a board resolution approving a transfer of the same rights to an entity called Northport Civic Trust.
Mason found Elliot’s name on all three.
On the first page the handwriting resembled his father’s familiar signature.
On the third the capital letters tilted in a different direction.
“The third one isn’t his,” Mason said.
Miriam did not congratulate him.
“A handwriting comparison is only the beginning,” she said.
“We need documents with a reliable chain of custody.”
Denise told her that Elliot had kept every birthday card from Mason’s childhood.
