Chương 4 - THE FUND WITH THE MARCHETTI NAME
The Cedar Patient Continuity Fund began with seventy-five thousand dollars.
That was the first fact Roman could verify.
His father, Anthony Marchetti, contributed fifty.
Arthur Vale contributed twenty-five.
The money came through a legitimate family foundation account.
Mara checked twice.
No cash bags.
No off-book ledger.
Good.
The original charter was simple.
Residents facing temporary coverage gaps could receive grants for:
Dialysis transport.
Prescription copays.
Short-term nursing supplements.
Emergency mobility equipment.
No repayment.
No interest.
No fees.
Roman read the charter in his office while the restaurant remained closed for repairs and police evidence work.
Paul Gatti sat across from him.
Mara stood by the window.
“What happened?”
Mara turned a page.
“In 2009, the fund administration moved from the Marchetti foundation to Cedar Haven operator.”
“Why?”
“Your father’s health issues. He reduced charitable administration.”
Roman remembered.
Heart surgery.
Three months away.
“What happened to money?”
“About one hundred thirty thousand remained.”
“Then?”
“By 2012, balance near zero.”
“Grants?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly.”
Mara looked at him.
“Administrative expenses increased.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-two percent in final year.”
“That is high.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur?”
“Operator-controlled invoices.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Then:
“In 2013, fund dissolved.”
“What replaced it?”
Mara slid another page.
HARBOR CARE ASSISTANCE LLC.
Founder:
Arthur Vale, minority.
Two other entities.
“Not my father.”
“No.”
“Not Marchetti.”
“No ownership found.”
“Why did Arthur call it family fund?”
“Marketing continuity maybe. Maybe deliberate.”
Roman looked at old brochures.
Cedar Haven families may qualify for continuity assistance inspired by the original Marchetti-Vale patient support initiative.
There.
His family name.
No explicit endorsement by Roman.
Still.
“How long did that language run?”
“Until 2021.”
Five years after Anthony died.
“Did we know?”
Mara tapped lease files.
“Property manager received brochures with annual tenant package.”
Roman laughed once.
“So yes.”
“Someone in company had them.”
“Not same as know.”
“No.”
“Still.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Then Mara opened a payment spreadsheet.
“Here is worse.”
Roman looked.
Harbor Care paid a “community access sponsorship” each year to Cedar Haven Services.
Not property company.
Operator.
Arthur’s company.
Amount rose from twenty thousand to one hundred ten thousand annually.
“Kickback?”
“Do not label yet.”
Good.
“What was sponsorship for?”
“Resident education. wellness events. intake coordination.”
Roman stared.
“Did those happen?”
“Some events.”
“Enough?”
“Unknown.”
Then another payment.
To:
Marchetti Community Foundation.
Roman’s chest tightened.
“Us.”
“Your foundation.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen thousand per year for three years.”
He stood.
“For what?”
Mara looked sick.
“Holiday meal sponsorship.”
Roman remembered.
Thanksgiving dinners delivered to senior facilities.
Christmas baskets.
Cedar Haven had been one.
Harbor Care sponsored them.
Their logo appeared small on a banner.
He had shaken Arthur’s hand once under it.
Photograph probably somewhere.
Roman sat.
Not owner.
Not architect.
Still, his family charity accepted money from the company exploiting residents.
“How did diligence miss?”
Mara looked at him.
“Because nobody treated a fifteen-thousand-dollar holiday sponsorship like high risk.”
“Should they?”
“In hindsight?”
“No.”
He rubbed his face.
“Do not give me hindsight.”
“Then no. Not automatically.”
Good.
“But now?”
“Return or reserve funds pending review. disclose if required. investigate.”
Roman nodded.
“Do it.”
“Foundation board decides.”
He stared.
Mara raised one eyebrow.
Right.
He had influence.
Not unilateral authority.
“Call meeting.”
Good.
Then Paul said:
“What does this have to do with restaurant break-in?”
Exactly.
Mara pulled another file.
Police had found that the intruder entered Roman’s private office.
Nothing visibly stolen.
But desk drawer disturbed.
Inside drawer:
Cedar Haven lease renewal packet.
Roman had been reviewing it the night Karen cried.
He came to restaurant after a late meeting specifically because the packet was in his office.
The renewal deadline:
two weeks.
Arthur Vale wanted another ten-year extension.
Roman had reservations.
Not because of Harbor Care.
Because property maintenance reports were poor.
He had told Mara that afternoon he might require a full operating audit before renewal.
Who knew?
Mara.
Asset manager.
Arthur.
Possibly operator staff.
Hodge may have been trying to photograph lock for later access.
Or the intruder may already have sought the packet.
Police would determine.
Roman looked at Paul.
“Why was camera sensor taped earlier?”
Paul swallowed.
“We found maintenance access log.”
“Who?”
“Outside fire-suppression inspection.”
“Company?”
“Vale Safety Services.”
Roman went still.
Arthur’s nephew owned it.
Of course.
Mara raised one hand.
“Separate company. Do not jump.”
Good.
“Employee name?”
“Police have it.”
Fine.
Then Roman’s phone rang.
Karen.
He answered.
“Your mother?”
“Stable.”
“Good.”
“Faye remembers someone gave her a phone after Nell died.”
Roman sat straighter.
“What phone?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
“She doesn’t remember.”
“Did you ask facility?”
“Sarah did. Old personal property inventory.”
“And?”
“Phone listed.”
Roman’s blood cooled.
“What kind?”
“Prepaid flip phone.”
“Still?”
“No.”
“Disposed?”
“Signed out.”
“To who?”
Karen’s voice changed.
“Curtis Hodge.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Three days after Nell died, Cedar Haven has a visitor-property form. Hodge signed the phone out, listed himself as family financial advocate.”
Roman stood.
“Was your mother at Cedar Haven then?”
“No.”
He stopped.
Right.
Faye entered Cedar Haven only five months ago.
“What facility?”
Karen’s voice shook.
“Not Cedar Haven. Rhode Island General rehab wing.”
Different institution.
Hodge had access there too.
Two years earlier.
Before Faye became a Harbor Care client.
That changed the scope.
Roman said:
“So Hodge knew your family before the current debt.”
“Yes.”
“Through Nell.”
“Looks like it.”
Karen continued.
“And I found something else.”
“What?”
“Nell’s old email account.”
Roman did not say open it.
Good.
Karen had recovered through legitimate password reset as next of kin? Not necessarily. Could have access via old laptop. Let's make she found printouts instead. Need avoid questionable access. She says:
“Printed emails in the folder.”
Good.
“One from Hodge.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“What does it say?”
Karen read.
Eleanor,
You are misunderstanding a patient continuity arrangement that has existed for years with support from established Providence families.
You are creating risk where none exists.
If you continue contacting transport staff and residents directly, your employer will be notified that you are interfering with client relationships.
Curtis Hodge
Harbor Care Assistance
Roman closed his eyes.
“Date?”
“Two days before she met Arthur.”
Then another.
From Nell to herself? Maybe draft printed:
I am meeting Vale. If he tells me Marchetti backs Hodge, I want proof.
Roman said nothing.
Karen continued.
“She did not trust your name.”
“She had reason.”
That surprised her.
“You’re not defending your father.”
“My father started a grant fund. I have no evidence he approved Harbor Care.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Roman stared at the old charter.
No.
She asked about the name.
“My family benefited from people assuming we knew everything happening under our name.”
Silence.
“Sometimes we encouraged that.”
There.
Power.
“If Arthur used that fear or reputation to make Hodge credible, then my father may not have known. But the name still helped.”
Karen went quiet.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making me argue.”
He almost laughed.
Then:
“Do you want to know what was in my office?”
“Do I need to?”
Good question.
Roman thought.
“Yes, because Hodge asked you to photograph the lock and the intruder targeted the room.”
He explained the lease packet.
Karen said:
“So Arthur knew you might audit.”
“Yes.”
“And Hodge pressures me that night.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Arthur sent him?”
“I don’t know.”
Good.
“Do you think Hodge sent the intruder?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think my sister’s accident—”
“No.”
Fast.
Karen went silent.
Roman corrected.
“I have no evidence Nell’s crash was anything except the crash investigation says.”
Rain.
Route 6.
Hydroplaning truck ahead.
Nell swerved.
Guardrail.
No suspicious second car.
No tampering.
“I am not turning her death into murder because it makes the story cleaner.”
Karen cried quietly.
Not because she wanted murder.
Because part of her had wondered.
“If somebody scared her that week, could that matter?”
“Yes.”
“Even if they didn’t kill her.”
“Yes.”
Good.
The distinction helped.
Roman continued.
“Detective Ortiz requested the crash file for context.”
“Okay.”
Then Karen said:
“Roman.”
“Yes.”
“If your audit proves Harbor Care used your family name, what happens?”
He looked at his father’s signature.
Anthony Marchetti.
A man who had done kind things.
A man who had also ordered violence Roman spent adulthood trying not to romanticize.
No saint.
No devil.
Father.
“We correct the record.”
“That’s words.”
“Yes.”
“Money?”
“Restitution if supported.”
“From who?”
“Harbor Care first.”
“And if they have none?”
Roman stopped.
There.
Responsibility versus guilt.
“My companies will not buy innocence.”
Karen’s face hardened though he could not see.
He continued:
“But if we profited from or negligently enabled harm, that gets measured.”
Silence.
“Not a gift.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then another call interrupted.
Mara.
Roman merged? No. He told Karen he would call back.
Mara’s voice was sharp.
“Police identified the hidden-camera purchase.”
“Who?”
“Prepaid cash retail. no buyer ID.”
“Then not identified.”
“Correct.”
“Why call?”
“Because the camera’s memory card had older footage.”
Roman’s stomach tightened.
“How old?”
“Six weeks.”
“Of what?”
“Restaurant back hall. cleaning staff. manager office.”
“So it was installed before last night.”
“Yes.”
“Who was targeted?”
“Mostly Karen.”
Roman went cold.
Not because of romance.
Because a woman had worked under his roof for eleven months while someone studied her movements.
“How often?”
“Eleven clips.”
“Why her?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Mara said:
“One clip shows a man meeting her in the rear lot.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Hodge?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Arthur Vale.”
Roman stopped.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
That made no sense.
Karen had said she did not know Arthur.
Unless—
“Does Karen remember?”
“She says no meeting.”
“Then what does footage show?”
Mara exhaled.
“Karen asleep in her car. Arthur walks up, looks through the window, then leaves an envelope under the windshield wiper.”
Roman’s chest tightened.
Four months ago.
Before Faye entered Cedar Haven.
Before Harbor Care debt.
Before Karen knew any of this.
“What was in envelope?”
“Karen says she found forty dollars and a note that said BUY A ROOM TONIGHT.”
Roman stared.
“She thought it was random.”
“Yes.”
“Did she use it?”
“No.”
Of course.
“Where is the note?”
“Her glove compartment.”
Evidence.
Then the question became larger.
Why had Arthur Vale known where Karen worked?
Why had he known she slept in her car?
Why had he approached her before her mother ever became his resident?
Roman looked at Nell’s name in the complaint log.
May you like
The answer might have started with the sister.
But it had been following Karen ever since.
