Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(61)

“I did,” I said. “It was after six o’clock. He’d called me multiple times during the day. He wasn’t happy that I spent the day with my mother. You can check my phone records. He’d wanted me to go to Carmichael Hall. I’d agreed, but then my mother took an unexpected turn. As I said, I spent the day with her and her doctors.

“Once I got back to Montague, I had to get ready for the party. People were supposed to arrive at 6:30.”

“You saw him before the party?”

“Yes. He came to my room.”

“Was he still upset?” Officer Emerson asked.

I shook my head. “No. He was the complete opposite. During his calls he was angry, but by that evening he was calm and even nice.”

“Nice.” Detective Means repeated. “You say that like it was the exception rather than the rule.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Miss Moore, did you see Mr. Spencer on Saturday?”

“No. Like I said, I was at Montague Manor and then all over Savannah for the party. I didn’t attend the party and decided to leave during it. I never saw him.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes,” Chelsea said.

“Did Mr. Spencer know your number?”

“Yes. You can check my records too. He called many times. I even let some of them go to voicemail.”

“What did he want?”

Chelsea took a deep breath. “He wanted me to come to Carmichael Hall. He was very upset that I was not available.”

“Available?” the detective asked. “But he was about to go to a party announcing his engagement in front of Savannah, Georgia… well… nationwide society, and he wanted you to be available to him before that?”

Chelsea nodded. “That’s why I wanted to leave. That’s why I left during the party.”

Officer Emerson and Detective Means turned to one another. After a prolonged stare, they turned back to us. “Ladies,” the detective said, “thank you for your cooperation. Today’s statements weren’t made under oath. Would you be willing to testify to the information you shared with us today?”

My tongue darted to my lips. “I will.” It wasn’t up to me to speak for Chelsea.

We all turned to her. Finally her head bobbed. “Yes.”

A knock at the door echoed through the small room.





OFFICER EMERSON STOOD and opened the door as we all began to gather our things.

“Alexandria!”

I turned to the familiar face of Ralph Porter. He’d been at the party Saturday night; however, before that it had been years since I’d seen him. Most of the contact I’d made with Hamilton and Porter regarding my trust had been with Natalie, one of their assistants.

I nodded. “Ralph?”

Granted, in proper society, a man Ralph Porter’s age, probably older than Alton, deserved the respect of the use of his last name. Nothing I’d discovered about Ralph Porter, from the archaic will of my grandfather to the loss of my trust fund, deserved my respect.

He lifted his hand toward me, beckoning me out of the room.

When I didn’t move, he said, “Officers, if you’ll excuse us. I need to speak to my client.”

Standing directly behind Ralph was Isaac. His head and shoulders loomed higher, dwarfing the man who’d forever been my mother’s as well as Alton’s and Bryce’s counsel.

“Are we done?” Mr. Owen asked Detective Means and Officer Emerson.

“Yes, thank you,” the detective said as they both stepped from the room. Mr. Owen, Chelsea, and I had yet to move.

After a backward glance at Isaac, Ralph stepped inside and shut the door. “My dear, I saw your picture on the news and rushed over. You shouldn’t be here without counsel.”

My smile grew. Tilting my head toward the side, I said, “Ralph, I’m sure you know Daryl Owen. I’m represented. Thank you for your concern.”

His wrinkled face paled, or was it grayed? Confusion clouded his eyes. “I don’t understand. I dropped everything when I saw you enter this place. Dear, you’re a Montague. Hamilton and Porter has represented the Montagues exclusively since… well, since your grandfather.”

Perspiration dotted Ralph’s upper lip. He had thinning gray hair that was thicker toward the base of his head, wrapping around like a white horseshoe. In the fluorescent light of the interrogation room, even the top of his head seemed to glisten.

“Actually, Ralph,” I said, “Mr. Owen has been a big help, not only to Chelsea and me but also to my friend Lennox Demetri.” I pursed my lips. “Seeing as you represent Bryce and well, my stepfather, I didn’t want there to be a conflict of interest.”

“No conflict of interest. Dear, we’re all on the same side. We all have the same goal. We all want to see Bryce acquitted of this ridiculous charge. As his wife—fiancée, that is your goal?”

I took a step forward. “What happened to the marriage license you showed Mr. Demetri?”

“I-I,” he stuttered. “I didn’t show anything to that man.”

“No, you gave it to me,” Mr. Owen said. “Complete with the court’s approval. Yet now it seems to have been voided. Was there a problem?”