Chapter 4: The Farm Woman and the Lawyer
Clara had one contact in Dallas.
A woman named Ruth Ellison, who had gone to the same church as Clara's late husband for eleven years before moving to the city for work.
Ruth was not a lawyer.
But she knew one.
Clara called her from a gas station two blocks from the cemetery, using a payphone because she did not trust Veronica's phone and her own had died on the bus.
"Ruth.
It's Clara Vance."
"Clara?
Lord, I heard about Leonard — I'm so sorry—"
"He's alive."
A silence.
"Say that again."
"Leonard is alive.
I don't have time to explain everything.
I need a lawyer who handles fraud and I need one today.
Right now.
This morning."
Ruth did not ask another question.
She said, "Hold on," and was back in forty seconds with a name and a number.
Daniel Marsh.
Forty-four years old, as it turned out.
A compact man with reading glasses pushed up on his forehead and a desk covered in stacked folders that he navigated without looking.
He met Clara in his office on the ninth floor of a building on Commerce Street forty minutes after she called.
She laid the documents on his desk.
He read without speaking.
When he finished the ownership transfer, he set it down and looked at her over his glasses.
"When was this notarized?"
"Six days ago."
"And the accident — when did that occur?"
"Four days ago.
According to Veronica."
He picked up the document again.
"The notarization predates the death by two days."
"Yes."
"That is either very poor planning or evidence of premeditation." He set it down again.
"You said your son called you.
From his wife's phone."
"Yes."
"Do you know where he is?"
"No.
He said it wasn't safe to say."
Marsh leaned back.
"Mrs.
Vance, I want to be careful with you here.
What you're describing — if it's accurate — is not just fraud.
It's a staged death, a forged or coerced signature, and potentially conspiracy.
That is a serious criminal matter, not just a civil one."
"I know what it is."
"The police—"
"The police will need evidence.
I'm here to understand what I have."
He nodded slowly.
"What you have is a notarized transfer document signed before the death it was contingent upon.
That is significant.
If the signature can be shown to be coerced or forged, the transfer is void.
If the death itself is fraudulent — meaning the man in that casket is not Leonard Vance — then every legal action taken in reliance on that death is also void." He tapped the page.
"Including this."
"How do I prove the man in the casket isn't Leonard?"
"Dental records.
DNA.
The medical examiner's report — which, if a death was officially registered, must exist.
We can request it." He paused.
"We can also file an emergency injunction to halt the burial and freeze any asset transfers pending investigation."
"How fast?"
"If I file this morning, I can have a temporary freeze on the firm's assets by end of day.
The burial halt — I can call the county medical examiner directly.
They have authority to hold the body pending identity verification."
Clara placed her hands flat on his desk.
"Do all of it."
Marsh reached for his phone.
The door to his office opened.
His assistant leaned in — a young woman with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry to interrupt.
There's a woman downstairs asking for Mrs.
Vance.
She says it's urgent."
Clara turned.
"What woman?"
"She wouldn't give her name.
She said to tell you—" the assistant glanced at a notepad "—she said to tell you that Marcus sent her."
Clara stood up.
Marsh put his hand over the phone receiver.
"Mrs.
Vance.
Be careful."
"I will." She picked up her shawl.
"Make the calls."
She was already moving toward the door when Marsh said, quietly, "Mrs.
Vance."
She stopped.
"Your son called you from his wife's phone," he said.
"Which means Veronica now knows that phone has been answered.
And she knows you have it."
Clara looked at the phone in her hand.
"She'll be tracking it," Marsh said.
May you like
Clara set Veronica's phone on his desk.
Then she walked out to meet whoever Marcus had sent — and whatever they were about to tell her.
