25 Red Ink

September 13, 2018

10:41 am

Felicia del Mundo

This better be important, Nathan!

After that fiasco at the funeral, I feel like I do not want to involve myself in this execution of her will. Yes, her will. I should be back at my work as a secretary. I should finally be able to live a normal life with Carlos. And yet now, even at her death she finds ways in disturbing my peace.

But then, I remember. She was so enthusiastic about her relationship with Mateo that she did not even know how it will end. However, that is not my focus in this fiasco. My focus is that note.

"It was not an accident."

Those words were left at the foot of my door written in red ink. She also received a warning about Mateo written in red ink. That got me thinking. Is the person that gave us warnings the same man?

More importantly, who is Morris? She never mentioned that name in our friendship.

I thought I had forgotten the way to Guevarra's office. From my home, I had to take a taxi to his office. I think his office is somewhere around the City Hall. I think he has a firm nearby. Of course, what better way to profit than to set up your firm near the center of justice. If someone filed a charge against you at the city hall, then finding a lawyer is easy. It's just next door. What a smart man he is indeed. Probably the reason why Christine hired him.

And, I was right. It was just near the City Hall. The building of his firm is a bit small though, smaller than a typical house. First, I knock on the door of his firm.

No answer from a secretary or anyone. Alright, I think I'll just let myself in. He did say to come by as soon as I can. Maybe he's just a bit busy to see who it is.

As I enter, I now understand why he cannot answer.

"No, the law does not work that way, miss," Guevarra says through the phone.

His office is as tight as a rat's hole. There are two tables in this room – his table and his secretary's near the door. Stacks of papers are all around that it piles up to be as tall as I am. Boxes of files are in one corner. A drip coffee pot is sitting at the corner. The coffee pot's stains say the words without even speaking – Guevarra has not been in the best of times during these days.

"Look, I have several other cases piling up here," Guevarra continues with false patience. "I'm sorry. I cannot take this case. I can refer you to some of my colleagues if you truly need the – "

All of a sudden, his eyebrows meet. "Hello? Hello? Miss, are you -- oh forget it!"

He puts his phone down as if he would throw it all away. Without another word, he rises from his seat as if he would kick all the boxes beside him. His even waves his hands up in the air as if he is in an argument with another person. Finally, after seeing that it is all for naught, he takes a seat again. He leans back on his chair with his eyes closed, as if he wants to sleep away his problems.

"So many cases await me, Felicia," he says with his eyes closed. "I have trials scheduled in the next few days to weeks. Unfortunately, I cannot deal with it all. Christine's wealth is my focus right now. If it goes to the wrong person, millions will be lost. I must deliver it as soon as I can."

I cannot say anything. I just nod in his words. It's not like any of my words can soothe his problems away. His whines are warranted. Without another word, his secretary pours some coffee on his cup. The secretary just gives me the looks – looks which seem to say "this has been going on for days. He's not the only one suffering."

"Then, there's this note that showed up at my doorstep," he continues while keeping that same tired position he is in. "Of course, it was written in red ink, you know, like the fucking horror movies. It says it was not an accident. Now, things just keep adding up. It's hard to be a lawyer. Just kill me now."

Red ink. He received the same note.

Red ink. Just an object that ties years apart of difference from five years ago events up to today.

"As he leaves me to think by myself, I am beginning to see things in a whole new light. Did he just put a folder inside the piano in order for me to find that in there? Was he attempting anonymity with all of these? More importantly, how did he find out about this?"

Those were the exact words that she said in her diary. So, she was right. She did say she would leave important notes in her diary that would help me find the heir. I'm still not even halfway through her book, and yet we are finally seeing things in a whole new light. Morris. Who is this Morris?

"I– I, too, received the same note," I stammer. "What– What do we do?"

He then looks back at me with one open eye as he still leans on his chair. "Oh, you received the same note too? I know I have called you here, but I'm guessing it's been bothering you that you even decided to come here. As for that note, what else do we do? Find justice. That's how it is."

From his tone of voice, I think he has given up. His secretary simply shakes her head in dismay for what is going on. I just let out a sigh.

"Nathan, you might not believe this, but Christine encountered a man that wrote in red ink?"

In a spark of interest, I see him sit up straight as if he would listen closely to what I would say. He even leans forward as if he beckons me to come up to him. "Oh?"

"Yes," I continue. "May of 2013, months before Christine falsely marries Mateo, a man named Morris left her a Manila folder containing pieces of evidence of Mateo's not-so-perfect actions. As a person that knew her closely, do you know any man named Morris?"

All of a sudden, he turns his swivel chair away with his head pondering things through. In his eyes, I can see him recalling everything within the past five years. "No," he says slowly while still thinking things through. "Not that I know anyone. May I ask, did she mention a surname? Tracking a man named Morris would be easier if we knew him better?"

"No. She just mentioned that this particular man is Margaret's, her sister, friend and is often an early attendee of Word Miracle Church."

"Did she describe him in particular?"

"No. Just that he was a smart-looking man. Attractive, if we may be so frank. Not exactly helpful, is it?"

He just nods in agreement. All of a sudden, he pulls a manila folder from underneath his table. "Someone left this at my doorstep with a note written in red ink," he says with a sigh in his voice. "The documents about Christine's son is left by the same man we think of. The note about her death not being an accident is not the first note I received. It was this – the documents."

Once more, I take the folder right before him. I open it to see the same documents I read about Christine's son. However, right above it all, there's the note that he was talking about.

"Many will claim to be heirs of her wealth. Believe not a word they say. This is the true heir."

The note is in red ink like my note, as his note, like Christine's note. With my shaking hands, I could almost let the folder go. It was five years ago, and yet this man still ties the past and the present with his red ink.

"That's the reason why I am not naming an heir instantly," he continues. "I could name Lopez and the child as heirs right here and then. They both get equal shares of the estates and everything. But then, it's curious that the man did not leave a birth certificate of the child. Does he not want to identify himself?"

"Christine did mention that Morris occasionally volunteers at the University of Saint Dominic. Maybe we could use that to find him."

"Yes. You are right. Leave it to me. I think I can find that man within a day and get him to speak."