Page 108 of Destiny

“Misters Murphy.” A tall man in a gray pinstripe suit holds out his hand. “I’m Linus Brown. Yes, my parents had a sense of humor. Nice to meet you both.”

“Call me Brendan,” I say.

“Very well, Brendan. Why don’t you and your father come on back? I set up one of our small conference rooms for us to talk.”

We follow Mr. Brown to a large conference room where two other individuals are already sitting—a young woman with blond hair and a dark-haired man wearing a navy-blue suit.

“I’d like you to meet my associate, Mary Finnegan, and my paralegal, George Stearns.”

We shake hands all around, and then Dad and I sit across the table.

“I did some research into the Steel Trust,” Mr. Brown says, “and unfortunately I can’t find a lot of information. Trusts aren’t required to be registered or recorded anywhere, so we have only limited information available. These are old liens, some of which predate the mortgages on the properties, which is unusual in itself, as most mortgage companies won’t write loans on encumbered properties.”

Dad nods. “The whole thing stinks. This can’t possibly be legal.”

“I assure you it’s legal. It’s just unusual. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Mr. Brown shuffles some papers. “The first thing we’ll do is send a letter to this law firm to let them know that all of you who received letters are declining to pay the liens at this time. We can hold them off for a couple of weeks with some legal jargon. That will give us more time to look into this trust with more specificity. We can also put our investigators on it if you’d like.”

“If the Steel investigators haven’t been able to find anything, I doubt that yours will,” I say.

“So you believe the Steel family has nothing to do with this trust?” the paralegal asks.

“I do,” I say. “Which is why I asked Donny Steel to recommend a lawyer.”

“Don’s a good man,” Mr. Brown says. “He and I went to law school together. I never understood why he gave up that cushy partnership track in Denver to be the city attorney for Snow Creek.”

“As a favor to his mother,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells me. I guess when you’re born rich, it doesn’t matter if you make any money in your chosen career.”

I’m not sure what to say to that, so I simply nod.

“Mary and I have drawn up a letter.” Mr. Brown slides a paper toward us.

We glance over it.

“This is just a standard language letter, telling the law firm that you’re refusing to make payment at this time until we find out more about the trust. We’re throwing around some legal terms to give us the few weeks we need.”

“Looks fine to me,” I say. “But tell me this. Can this trust force foreclosure?”

“A mortgage lien will usually take priority over all other liens, so if they do end up forcing foreclosure, the mortgage companies will get first dibs on any moneys from the property.” Mr. Brown shakes his head. “Like I said, this is highly irregular. The letter will hold them off for a few weeks, and even if they force the issue, foreclosure is a long process. You’ll all have ninety days to surrender the properties.”

Dad pulls out his checkbook. “This is fucked up.”

“I agree,” Mr. Brown says.

“I’m ready to write a check for your services, Mr. Brown.”

“There’s no need,” Mr. Brown says. “My fees are taken care of.”

“By whom?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Donny Steel.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dad says. “We took up a collection from the citizens of Snow Creek. They’re willing to pay to get this taken care of.”

“Apparently Donny’s also willing to pay. He says his family feels terrible about all of this.”

“Well, they should,” Dad says. “But we don’t want their tainted money.”

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