Chapter 10 - THE DOCTOR’S NOTESDr. Keene returned the next day carrying three years of medical records.
“I reviewed everything.”
Everett closed the study door.
“And?”
“The altered letter is not the only irregularity.”
Keene placed two pharmacy reports on the desk.
Everett’s authorized pharmacy had filled his correct dosage.
But three refills had later been replaced through a private concierge service.
The prescriptions showed electronic authorization under Keene’s provider number.
“I didn’t authorize these.”
“Can someone copy your credentials?”
“Not easily.”
“Who requested the refills?”
Keene pointed to the account contact.
Margaret Whitmore.
Everett felt the now-familiar cold anger.
“What would twice my intended dosage do?”
“Drowsiness. Memory gaps. Confusion. Slower reaction time.”
“Enough to make me look mentally unstable?”
“If someone documented only your worst moments, yes.”
Everett thought of Margaret telling him he repeated questions.
The mornings he woke unable to remember conversations from the night before.
The afternoon in Chicago when he nearly collapsed.
He had blamed grief.
Age.
Travel.
Stress.
Margaret had treated each incident as proof that he was deteriorating.
“Could it cause permanent damage?”
“Not at the levels shown here, based on what I know. But you need testing.”
Everett nodded.
Keene hesitated.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“What?”
“Margaret asked me about competency evaluations four months ago.”
Everett stared.
“What did you tell her?”
“That insomnia does not equal incapacity.”
“And?”
“She became frustrated.”
Keene looked ashamed.
“I thought she was scared for you.”
“So did I.”
“She asked whether memory gaps could support temporary guardianship.”
Everett said nothing.
“I told her a full evaluation would be required.”
“Did she ask who could provide one?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Keene gave a name.
Dr. Raymond Sutter.
Lena checked.
Sutter had already prepared a report.
Everett had never met him.
The report described a “clinical interview” conducted during a private dinner at the Whitmore mansion.
Everett remembered the dinner.
Margaret had introduced Sutter as a donor to one of Malcolm’s charities.
They had spoken for perhaps fifteen minutes.
About architecture.
Football.
Travel.
Nothing medical.
Yet Sutter’s report described Everett as disoriented, emotionally volatile, and unable to recall basic financial information.
“This is fraud,” Lena said.
“Can we prove it?”
“We can prove you were never told it was an evaluation.”
Everett remembered a question Sutter had asked.
“What year did you acquire this house?”
Everett had answered that he never acquired it because it belonged to the Harlow trust.
Sutter had laughed.
Now his report said:
Subject demonstrated confusion regarding ownership of primary residence.
Everett stared at the sentence.
They had turned a correct answer into evidence of mental decline.
It was almost elegant.
That made him angrier.
“They planned every detail.”
Lena nodded.
“They needed a record that looked organic.”
Later, Everett found Margaret in the sunroom.
She was reading.
“Did you invite Dr. Sutter here to evaluate me?”
The book lowered slowly.
“Who?”
“Raymond Sutter.”
Margaret blinked.
“The charity donor?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He wrote a psychiatric report about me.”
Margaret’s mouth opened.
“That’s absurd.”
“You invited him.”
“For dinner.”
“He evaluated me.”
“I didn’t know.”
Everett studied her.
She was good.
Very good.
For a moment, even now, he could almost believe her.
Then he remembered Daniel saying Margaret covered the document with her hand while he signed.
Everett sat opposite her.
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“When did you meet Malcolm?”
“At our rehearsal dinner.”
“Try again.”
Margaret’s eyes changed.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
Everett placed a copy of the twelve-year-old marriage certificate on the table.
She did not touch it.
He pointed to Malcolm’s signature.
“You knew my brother twelve years before you married me.”
Margaret remained silent.
“And Preston Vale is your cousin.”
Still nothing.
“How long were you planning this?”
She finally looked up.
“You don’t understand what you found.”
“Then explain it.”
“My first husband worked with Malcolm.”
“So?”
“So I met Malcolm through him.”
“And Preston?”
“He’s family. We aren’t close.”
“You never thought to mention that my attorney was your cousin?”
“I didn’t know Preston was your attorney when we met.”
“And afterward?”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“What difference would it have made?”
“Today? A great deal.”
She stood.
“You are searching my entire past because Daniel told you a story.”
“No.”
Everett stood too.
“I started searching because you hit him.”
He stepped closer.
“I kept searching because every time I opened a door, I found another lie.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
Then she said quietly:
“You should stop opening doors.”
Everett stared at her.
It was the first time she had stopped pretending to be concerned.
The first time something close to a threat appeared.
“Why?”
She looked at him for several seconds.
“Because you may not like what’s behind the next one.”
Then she walked away.
Everett watched her go.
He should have felt intimidated.
Instead, something inside him settled.
Margaret had made a mistake.
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Until that moment, she had insisted there was no conspiracy.
Now she had warned him not to uncover it.
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