Fidelity (Infidelity) (Volume 5)

by Aleatha Romig

  He reached out for my hand. “I remember you as a little girl. Always so inquisitive and so intelligent. You’ll make a wonderful attorney. Perhaps there’s a future for you at Hamilton and Porter?”

  As if that should be enticing. I pulled my hand away. “Goodbye, Ralph.”

  “I can’t make you stay, but we can make her,” he said, nodding his head toward Chelsea.

  “What?”

  “You’ve testified. You’ve given information under oath, Miss Moore. Bryce is going to need you to continue to corroborate his story. Perhaps,” his voice slowed, “you were with him on Saturday? I believe you two have an agreement.”

  “Mr. Porter,” Mr. Owen said, “Miss Moore is now my client. She is free to travel until she receives orders from the court saying otherwise. I hope you’re not suggesting that you have the authority…”

  Ralph’s hand went in the air. “I only need a signature.”

  “Make sure it’s legal,” I said.

  “You’re correct,” Ralph nodded toward us. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Miss Moore, please come to my office tomorrow and I’m sure we can get a statement. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that will allow you to leave Savannah until the time is necessary for you to return to testify.”

  She looked to Mr. Owen.

  “You are under no obligation to cooperate,” our attorney said. “However, the court can insist on your return.”

  “What kind of statement?” Chelsea asked.

  “The truth,” Ralph said. “Just as you’ve done in the past, just as you did in Evanston. Just as your agreement articulates.”

  RETURNING TO HAMILTON and Porter required another night and day in Savannah. I didn’t want to be there, but at least it allowed me a chance to speak with Jane. She met me at Leopold’s, just the two of us—and Clayton. Slipping under the radar—me in a baseball cap, wearing jeans and a vintage Bill Elliott t-shirt—we met at a table near the back.

  With my bodyguard at the table to my side, I nibbled on a bowl of chocolate raspberry swirl and scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long until I saw her, working her way through the tables to me.

  Her big brown eyes glistened as we hugged and she sat across the table. At her place setting I had a bowl of lemon custard. It was the flavor she always ordered when I was young.

  She shook her head. “Child, you remembered?”

  “Of course I did!”

  “I’m so glad you got a message to me.”

  “Yeah, Aunt Gwen has been more of a help than I ever imagined.”

  She nodded toward my shirt. “He was your daddy’s favorite.”

  “Awesome Bill from Dawsonville,” I said with a grin. “I really don’t know anything else about him, but I saw the shirt in a shop and decided I needed to have it.” I shrugged. “I remember your telling me that he was my dad’s favorite NASCAR driver.”

  “You safe? Your momma, she’s safe?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh praise Jesus.” Tears spilled onto her round cheeks as I reached across the table. “Child, I prayed all night and day. It was a mess here.” She shook her head. “I just kept thinking, what would Miss Adelaide say about this spectacle? Oh, Lordy, what would Miss Olivia say?”

  I squeezed her hand. “Momma wants to see you, but we think we need to wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “She needs to get stronger before she faces… him.”

  Jane nodded then leaned across the table. “He didn’t do it, Mr. Spencer.” She looked up from the custard. “Did he?”

  I lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I was with you most of the day.”

  “He wasn’t happy when he called you. I heard his voice. Not his words,” she clarified, “but his tone. He was mad.” She took a bite. “I wasn’t trying to listen. That room, it was small.”

  “It was, and he was.”

  “But not mad enough to do that?”

  “Jane, I don’t know. I really don’t. If the police question you, please be honest. It’s all we can do. If he’s not guilty, then honesty is his best defense. If he is guilty, Melissa deserves our honesty.”

  “I can’t. I can’t say nothing about what I see. It’s part of my job. It always has been.”

  “I think,” I said, keeping my voice low, “they can still call you. I think they can still question you.”

  “But I can’t say nothing. If I do, Mr. Fitzgerald will be angry.”

  “The law is more powerful than Mr. Fitzgerald.” Even as I said the words, I heard my uncertainty. Legally what I said was true. No private agreement could supersede the law. The law always won. Just like the song said. And then I recalled another old song, one Jane used to listen to. The singer had red hair, Vicky someone. She sang about a ‘backwoods judge in Georgia who had bloodstains on his hands.’ I even believed that Reba McEntire did a cover of the song. Suddenly it had new meaning.

  “I think you should talk to my attorney.”

  Jane shook her head. “I’ll just keep quiet.” She feigned a smile. “Will you come back to the house, or can I bring your momma some of her things? I know she’ll be missing them.” She clutched her chest. “I miss both of you. I ain’t never had you both gone.”

  “No, I’m not going to the manor. I can’t. Especially after Bryce is out on bail.”

  Her eyes widened. “They’re going to let him out?”

  “Probably. You know Alton. If he wants it.”

  “But if Mr. Bryce done that to that girl, he shouldn’t be out.”

  My eyes continued to flit around the room. Though the restaurant was busy, no one seemed to be paying any attention to us.

  “My attorney? If you get a call from the police or Mr. Porter, will you please call my attorney?”

  “Mr. Porter?”

  “No. Mr. Porter is Alton’s attorney. He’s Bryce’s attorney. Daryl Owen is my attorney’s name. Please don’t talk to Mr. Porter without him.”

  I COULDN’T RECALL the last time I’d been to Hamilton and Porter. It had been years ago, accompanying my mother as she signed something or did whatever it was they asked.

  Similar to yesterday, we were all together as Clayton stopped the limousine in front of the beautifully constructed building in the heart of the historic district.

  “This time I’m not letting you two go alone,” Nox said.

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “I don’t trust these people, not one of them.”

  “They’re questioning Chelsea, not me.” I looked over at my friend. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “I don’t want them to call me back here tomorrow. I don’t want to risk seeing Bryce without you.” She looked around the interior of the car. “All of you. So yes. Let’s get this over with.”

  With my hand in Nox’s, Mr. Owen leading the way, and Chelsea and Isaac behind us, we all entered the front glass doors of Hamilton and Porter. The historic exterior blended nicely with the more eclectic interior. Classic and modern at the same time.

  “Miss Collins,” the dark-haired receptionist said, standing, as Isaac opened the front glass door and we entered.

  “Yes,” I replied confidently.

  “I’m Natalie, Natalie Banks.” She came around the large desk. “We’ve spoken.” Her step stuttered as she looked up at Nox.

  “You’re…?”

  Did her complexion pale? “He’s my boyfriend, Lennox Demetri. He’s here to support me. I remember. You helped me with my trust fund.” She was also the one who’d mentioned Del Mar to me.

  Pulling her eyes away from Nox, she asked, “How is your mother? We’re all very concerned.”

  “Thank you for your concern. Natalie, this is Chelsea Moore.”

  Natalie took a step back as Chelsea removed her large sunglasses.

  “Hello,” Chelsea said.

  “H-hello. Um…” Natalie looked to Isaac and Mr. Owen.

  “And this is Daryl Owen of Preston, Madden, and Owen. He’s here today to represent
Chelsea and me.”

  “Represent you? Miss Collins, you’ve always been our client.”

  “I’ve already been through this with Mr. Porter. He said he needed information from Miss Moore? That’s why we’re…”

  Before I finished speaking, Ralph Porter entered the reception area.

  “Natalie…” He stopped in his tracks. “Miss Collins, look at you.”

  I’m the same as I was yesterday. I didn’t say that. I only thought it. Instead, I offered my hand. “Ralph…” I took continued pleasure in the way the use of his given name caused his lips to thin.

  He turned his attention to Mr. Owen. “Daryl, so nice of you to join us again. You must not have any other clients.”

  They shook hands as Mr. Owen spoke, “It’s good to see you too, Ralph. I’m sure you understand that some clients require more of your attention.”

  Ralph turned to Nox. “Ralph Porter.”

  Nox shook his hand. “Lennox Demetri.”

  “Yes, you’re the man who was arrested Saturday night.”

  “Detained, the charges were dropped,” Mr. Owen corrected.

  “Fortunate for you, Mr. Demetri…” He looked to Mr. Owen. “However, it does cause a problem in the billing department.”

  Mr. Owen didn’t crack a smile at Ralph’s poor attempt at humor. “From what I understand,” Daryl said, “it was fortunate for everyone that a resolution was found. Our hope is that today the same can be accomplished for Miss Moore.”

  I scanned the office as we followed Ralph. If I were honest, I’d admit that I was nervous that Alton or Bryce would sabotage this meeting. It was why I was clinging to Nox’s hand like a life raft.

  My fears weren’t without merit. Bryce’s court appearance had been earlier this morning. Deloris informed us that he was charged with felony murder and granted bail. It was exorbitant at ten million dollars and included surrendering his passport. Nevertheless, it was granted. The last we heard, he was still at the court dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. That meant it was just a matter of time before he was a free man.

  As soon as we turned the corner, I recalled the old-fashioned elevator from my childhood visits. It was still the same, quite possibly the same as it had been when my grandfather visited this office, maybe even a century before that. The black iron scissor gate opened and closed manually, and the floors were reached with the turn of a crank, not the push of a button.

  Ralph closed the gate and began to turn the crank. Slowly the floor moved upward, the interior of the shaft, cords, and wires were visible as we ascended. And then, we were at eye level with the second floor. He continued to crank until the elevator’s floor and the second floor met. Ralph unlatched and opened the gate, motioning toward the hallway. “Watch your step. We’re going to speak in a conference room. Let me show you the way.”

  Mr. Owen followed behind Nox, Chelsea, and me as Isaac took up the rear. When we reached the conference room, Isaac tapped on Nox’s shoulder, causing us to stop. He followed Ralph into the room. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but soon he exited and announced he’d wait in the hallway.

  “Making sure there were no unwanted guests,” Nox whispered near my ear.

  Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was concerned.

  The room we’d entered was plush with a long, shiny table and comfortable cushioned chairs. With its ornate trim and cherry bookcases filled with legal volumes, it was a far cry from the interrogation room at the police station. After we all entered, Ralph pushed a button on the wall. “Natalie, can you bring us some water, please.

  “Unless anyone would like something stronger?” he asked turning to the room.

  “No,” Mr. Owen answered for us all.

  “Just water,” Ralph clarified to the intercom.

  Her response came through more as a crackle than words.

  He pointed to the corner. On a tripod was a small camera. “We would like to videotape this session.”

  “Why?” Mr. Owen asked.

  “It’s to help me remember.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Ralph repeated.

  “Miss Moore is here to answer your questions, clarifying previous statements. If you want to recall her for a deposition, do it. That’s not what you requested today.”

  Ralph’s gaze flitted between Chelsea and Mr. Owen. “I’m certain, considering appearances, we won’t want to use the video as evidence. It is only a means to help us prepare for Bryce’s future defense.” He turned toward Chelsea. “Miss Moore, surely you want that?”

  “I’m here, Mr. Porter.”

  “Yes, fulfilling your agreement.”

  Though Infidelity was the elephant in the room, it wasn’t invisible to anyone, not even Mr. Owen. As our attorney, Nox and Deloris agreed that he needed to be informed.

  Mr. Owen placed his briefcase on the table. The latches clicked, opening and echoing as he gained everyone’s attention.

  “Mr. Owen?” Ralph asked.

  He looked up at Ralph. “As you seem to enjoy referencing the agreement, I brought a copy of said agreement. I thought it might be helpful to expand your vocabulary beyond the word.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Mr. Owen placed a manila folder on the table and removed a copy of an Infidelity agreement. It wasn’t Chelsea’s nor was it mine; instead, it was a blank agreement of intent. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen the actual agreement of intent from Miss Moore’s employer? They’re not easily obtained.” He didn’t wait for Ralph’s answer as he turned to page two and pointed to a clause. “As you’ve probably been told by your client, the agreement was for a one-year relationship, one year from the date the employee was contacted with his/her assignment, with the name of his/her client. This time period is set in stone with one exception.

  “The only way the agreement can be voided is if there is physical abuse.”

  Mr. Owen looked up, first to Chelsea and then to Ralph. “Tell me, will your vocabulary now expand beyond the use of the word agreement? I believe it’s clear that your client broke said agreement.”

  The light from the window made the perspiration again dotting Ralph’s lip glisten and brought a shine to his forehead. He turned from Mr. Owen to me. I was now seated at the table between Nox and Chelsea.

  “Alexandria, once this is complete, I’d like to speak to you privately about your grandfather’s will.”

  “No,” Nox replied.

  “Mr. Demetri…”

  “Ralph,” I said. “There’s nothing you can say that Lennox, Chelsea, or even Mr. Owen isn’t privy to.”

  He shook his head. “You were only shown a small portion of the will. There’s much more you need to understand.”

  Mr. Owen, who was still standing, removed a flash drive from his briefcase. “You’re going to need to trust us on this one. As you know, the document is lengthy.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “He’s saying,” I said, “that I’ve seen my grandfather’s will in its entirety. I’ve studied every line from the first to the last.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Mr. Owen shrugged and turned to me. “I guess he doesn’t believe us.”

  Ralph turned toward Chelsea. “Miss Moore, if you’d like to complete this interview in private, I would understand. It makes sense that some of what might be said could be embarrassing to you.”

  Chelsea sat taller. “I want it over. As Alex said, everyone in here knows the score.”

  Ten minutes later, glasses of ice water at each seat, cameras off, and Mr. Porter staged in front of a large legal pad and seated at the head of the table, he began.

  At first Ralph asked Chelsea about Bryce’s character. That line of questioning didn’t last long. He then turned to facts. His questions were similar to the detective’s. Leaning across the table, he asked, “Just so we have our dates right, how long did you and Bryce date?”

  Chelsea took a deep breath. “I met Edward Spencer for the first time in August of th
is year.”

  Ralph made a spectacle of riffling through some papers. “Of this year?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But here, Miss Moore, I have your statement to the Evanston police stating that you and Mr. Spencer had a relationship that dated back to your freshman year of college.” He peered up from the page, looking over a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses he’d recently donned. “You were a student at Stanford University, isn’t that correct?”

  “I was a student at Stanford my freshman year, yes.”

  “And Miss Collins’s roommate?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Spencer took…” He looked again at his papers. “…a total of five trips to California during your freshman year. He had the receipts to verify his travel.”

  I sucked in a deep breath as a chill rattled through me. Five. Bryce had traveled to California five times and never spoken to me. Was he there watching me?

  “Was that a question?” Mr. Owen asked.

  “Are you now saying that you never saw or spoke to Mr. Spencer during any of his visits?”

  “That’s what I’m saying: I did not.”

  Ralph turned to me. “What about you, Miss Collins. Prior to your departure to Palo Alto, you and Mr. Spencer were dating.”

  “You asked to question Miss Moore, not Miss Collins,” Mr. Owen reminded him.

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. Bryce and I dated while I was in high school. That’s common knowledge. I broke it off after I moved away.”

  “You broke it off until you agreed to marry him.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Yet he visited,” Ralph interrupted. “Bryce flew to San Francisco commercial and Palo Alto private on multiple occasions. I mentioned your freshman year. His visits weren’t limited to that year; they continued for all four years. They continued even after he began dating Miss Summers. There are even records of him staying at a hotel on Stanford Avenue. You’re familiar with Stanford Avenue?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I’m familiar with Stanford Avenue.”

  “How far was that from your residence?”