“Yes, of course.”
I press the mute button on my phone to answer Kingston’s question. “Charles’ attorney. He says he needs me to sign some papers for the estate.”
Kingston looks just as confused as I am. “Put him on speaker.”
I take the call off mute and press the speaker button as Kingston and I sit on the couch. “Okay, I’m back. Now, what were you saying about some paperwork?”
“For the estate,” he repeats. “To disburse funds to you, I need your signature on several documents.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Mr. Jacoby, I’m going to be frank. I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m assuming you heard about my father’s transgressions prior to his death?”
“Well... yes, of course,” he sputters.
“So, then perhaps you can understand my confusion. It’s my understanding all of Charles Callahan’s assets have been frozen until they can figure out which funds were acquired legally—if any—and restitution has been made.”
“Yes, that’s correct. But I’m not referring to his estate, Miss Callahan. I’m referring to your mother’s. Mahalia Rivera was your mother, was she not?”
“Yes...” I stretch the word out. “But she didn’t have any assets. I was a joint owner on her only bank account, and she had less than a hundred dollars to her name when she died.”
Mr. Jacoby clears his throat, a little louder this time. “Miss Callahan, I believe you’re mistaken. Your mother is the sole owner of several large investment accounts, and she listed you as the sole beneficiary of those accounts. Combined, her total estate is currently valued at two hundred and sixty-two million dollars, give or take.”
“What?!” Now it’s my turn to sputter. “How is that possible?”
Kingston’s eyes widen. “Mr. Jacoby, my name is Kingston Davenport. I’m sitting here with Jazz... uh, Jasmine. May I ask you a few questions?”
“Miss Callahan, is it okay to speak freely in front of Mr. Davenport?” he asks.
“Yes, anything,” I confirm.
“In that case... please proceed, Mr. Davenport.”
“When were these investment accounts originally opened?”
It sounds like the attorney is flipping through some papers. “Throughout a two-year window, approximately sixteen to eighteen years ago. They were each opened with exactly ten million dollars and have grown substantially over the years since.”
“Hold on again, please.” Kingston presses the mute button and turns to me. “He was hiding assets in her name. If she did sign anything to open those accounts, it might have been under duress, or she didn’t know what she was signing. If she didn’t know those accounts existed, Charles would’ve still had full access to them to do anything he pleased, as long as he did it online.” Kingston unmutes the call. “Can you tell us if any funds were added over the years?”
“Yes. There were many occurrences. I have quarterly statements from the last seven years. You’re welcome to review them when you come in to sign the appropriate paperwork.”
“Mr. Jacoby, I’ll have to call you back.”
“But—”
I end the call before he has a chance to finish his sentence.
“That’s blood money, Kingston. I don’t want anything to do with it. Why would he leave that money to me?”
“I think in his own fucked up way, he loved you and to Charles, money talks. Maybe this was his way of telling you that.”
“I don’t want his dirty money!”
“Now, hold up a sec,” he says. “What else are you going to do? Hand it over to the feds?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do!” I throw my hands up. “Do you have another suggestion?”
He smiles. “I do.”
“What?”