Chapter 13 - The Auditor’s Summons
The counterattack did not take long to materialize.
On Thursday afternoon, a courier in a brown uniform stepped out of a delivery van and handed me a certified envelope bearing the gold-embossed seal of the Eleventh Judicial Circuit Court of Florida.
Inside was a petition for Emergency Temporary Guardianship and Conservatorship, filed by Daniel Thomas Hayes on behalf of Carmen Louise Hayes, alleged incapacitated person. Attached to the petition was a sworn affidavit signed by an independent psychiatric consultant named Dr. Julian Mercer, stating that based on familial reports of paranoia, sudden hoarding of assets, hostility toward legal heirs, and uncharacteristic behavioral volatility, an immediate judicial intervention was warranted.
A hearing was set for Monday morning at nine o’clock.
My hands did not shake as I read the black ink. Daniel was desperate. The commercial development in Tampa had collapsed, his creditors were circling, and the only escape hatch he had left was to have me declared non compos mentis, seize the deed to Blackwood Ridge, and liquidate the twelve acres to save his own skin.
My phone rang. The screen displayed the name of Marcus Vance, the only attorney in the county who had remained loyal to my husband Arthur through the boom and bust of the citrus co-ops.
"Carmen," Marcus’s gravelly voice came through the receiver without a greeting. "I just saw the docket. Daniel’s lawyer, that vulture Miller from Orlando, filed an ex parte petition. They’re trying to catch us flat-footed before the weekend."
"I have the papers on my kitchen counter right now, Marcus," I said, setting my coffee cup down.
"Do you know Mercer?" Marcus asked, his tone grim. "He’s a hired gun. He does evaluation reports for corporate estates and contested wills. He charges ten grand a pop and signs whatever the paying party puts in front of him. Miller is going to argue that your sudden refusal to maintain standard family financial support, coupled with your age and social withdrawal, constitutes progressive cognitive decline."
"Can he freeze the accounts before Monday?"
"He tried. Judge Albright denied the immediate freeze order without a preliminary hearing, which means we have seventy-two hours to assemble our response. Carmen... this isn't just about money anymore. If Albright grants temporary guardianship, Daniel gets legal authority over your person. He can dictate where you live, who enters the property, and what medical facilities you attend."
A cold, diamond-hard clarity settled over my chest. "Marcus, how many years of my tax filings, bank reconciliations, and property assessments do you currently hold in your office archives?"
"Every single year since Arthur passed. Fourteen years of meticulous records."
"And who maintains the municipal water board accounts for the northern county district?"
"You do," Marcus said, pausing as the realization hit him. "You’ve been the volunteer treasurer for eleven years without missing a single quarterly penny."
"Call Samuel," I instructed quietly. "Tell him to bring his truck to the house. We have three boxes of ledgers to load into your office before nightfall. And Marcus?"
"Yes, Carmen?"
May you like
"Call Dr. Catherine Wallace at the university memory clinic in Gainesville. Book me a comprehensive four-hour neuropsychological evaluation for tomorrow morning at eight. I want an eight-page certified cognitive panel on Judge Albright’s desk before Daniel can even adjust his microphone."
***
