Chapter 7 - The Deposition
The conference room at Elena Ruiz's office was set up like a courtroom.
In the center of the room sat a long, glass table. On one side sat Elena and myself, flanked by Detective Shaw. On the other side sat Arthur Pendelton, looking immaculate in a gray flannel suit, his attorney, a shark-like corporate lawyer named Richard Croft, sitting beside him.
We had filed a civil suit for corporate asset recovery—a strategic move that allowed us to demand an immediate, emergency deposition before the criminal trials began.
Arthur looked at me with an expression of gentle, fatherly disappointment.
"Clara, my dear," he said, his voice rich and soothing. "I understand you've been through a terrible ordeal. Derek’s behavior was monstrous. If I had known what was happening in that house, I would have stepped in myself."
"Save it, Arthur," I said, opening my ledger on the table. "You knew exactly what was happening. You just didn't care as long as the money kept flowing."
His attorney, Croft, leaned forward, tapping his gold pen against a legal pad. "Ms. Sterling, we are here as a courtesy to discuss the receivership of Sterling Construction. If you are going to make wild, unsubstantiated accusations against my client, we will terminate this deposition immediately."
"They aren't unsubstantiated," Elena said calmly.
She turned on a laptop on the table and slid it toward Croft.
On the screen was a detailed financial flow chart, illuminated by the clean, undeniable logic of a forensic audit.
[Sterling Construction OP] ---> (Delaware Shell: Vanguard LLC) ---> [Apex Municipal PAC]
|
v
[Elysian Properties LLC] <--- (Manhattan Penthouse: $4.5M) <--- [Councilman Vance]
"This is the digital map we recovered from the USB drive hidden inside the high-rise model in Derek’s office," Elena said. "It contains five years of financial data. Every single dollar that was transferred from Sterling Construction to Vanguard Holdings was co-signed by you, Arthur."
Arthur’s expression didn't change, but his fingers tightened slightly around the armrest of his chair.
"I am a board member," Arthur said smoothly. "I sign dozens of authorizations a week. I trusted Derek to manage the operational disbursements. If he was routing those funds to a PAC, I was unaware of it."
"And the Manhattan penthouse?" I asked, leaning forward. "The one owned by Elysian Properties LLC, where you are listed as the primary beneficiary holding fifty-one percent of the shares? The penthouse currently occupied by Councilman Vance’s daughter?"
Croft quickly intervened. "My client has numerous real estate investments. Elysian Properties is a passive portfolio—"
"It’s not passive when the property was purchased with the exact two point five million dollars that was stolen from my father's company forty-eight hours before he died," I said, my voice rising slightly, carrying the weight of two years of suppressed grief.
Arthur’s eyes turned cold. The kindly, grandfatherly mask slipped away, revealing the hard, calculating predator underneath.
"Your father was a stubborn man, Clara," Arthur said, his voice dropping its warm tone, becoming thin and sharp. "He didn't understand how this city works. You can't build major projects without grease. He wanted to play by the rules of a world that doesn't exist anymore."
"So you killed him," I said.
"That is a slanderous accusation!" Croft shouted, standing up. "We are leaving!"
"Sit down, counselor," Detective Shaw said, his voice low and authoritative. He didn't move, but his hand rested casually near his service weapon. "We’ve been busy this morning. While you were driving here, a state police unit executed a search warrant at the upstate clinic where Marlene Sterling was being held."
Arthur’s head snapped toward Shaw.
"Marlene is currently in custody at the state police barracks in Albany," Shaw continued. "And she’s already talking. She didn't want to take the fall for a murder conspiracy, Arthur. She’s signed a full confession detailing how you and Councilman Vance pressured Derek to alter your father's heart medication."
The silence in the room was deafening.
Arthur looked at Croft, but his attorney was already packing his papers into his briefcase, his face pale.
"Arthur," Croft whispered. "I can't represent you in a capital murder case. You need to hire a criminal defense specialist. Immediately."
Arthur stood up slowly. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a dark, bitter hatred.
"You think you’ve won, Clara?" he said, his voice trembling. "You've destroyed the company. You've dragged my name through the mud. But Vance still controls the city. He’ll have this case thrown out before it ever reaches a grand jury."
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"Vance is currently being arrested by the FBI at his city hall office, Arthur," Shaw said, holding up his phone to display a live news alert. "The federal prosecutors don't need a local judge to sign the warrants when it comes to interstate wire fraud and municipal corruption."
Arthur collapsed back into his chair, his face grey, looking like a hollow shell of the man who had entered the room an hour ago.
