Chapter 8: The Partner Who Invited Her
The sheriff's station lobby smelled like old coffee and floor wax. It was past one in the morning and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I sat on a hard plastic chair with the redacted transcripts folded on my lap and my phone hot in my hand. Nora was down the hall somewhere with a uniform outside her door. Vivian was in the other interview room. I wasn't under arrest. I was just the guy who almost drank the champagne.
I stared at Eli Grant's name in my contacts. My business partner for six years. He'd been my best man. He'd given the toast about how I'd finally found someone who made me want to come home early.
He picked up on the third ring and I could hear traffic behind him.
"Daniel? Jesus, man, I've been calling you. They said the venue was on lockdown. Is Vivian okay?"
"You're awake," I said.
"I couldn't sleep after you guys left the reception. I kept thinking about that prenup thing this morning. Look, where are you?"
That stopped me cold.
"What prenup thing?"
A pause. He exhaled. "She didn't tell you I called her? Vivian. This morning. She was pushing hard to get you to sign that waiver before the ceremony. She texted me about it. I told her you wouldn't waive it without a lawyer and she got pissed."
My mouth went dry. "Eli, I need you to be straight with me. Did you give Nora a pass to be at the Whitmore tonight?"
The line went quiet except for the cars. I heard him shift the phone.
"Yeah," he said finally. His voice was lower. "I did. Vendor pass. I asked her to go."
I stood up without thinking. The chair scraped. The deputy at the front desk looked over at me.
"You invited my former assistant to my wedding to watch my bride?" I kept my voice even but it shook anyway.
"I didn't know what else to do," Eli said. "Vivian came to the office last week asking about your holdings. Quiet questions. And then this morning she wanted that waiver. No prenup means she walks with half if this goes south. You've got the company, Daniel. I've got half that risk with you. I trust you, but I didn't trust her. Nora knows Vivian. She offered to keep an eye out. I didn't think she'd make a scene."
"She stopped me from drinking poison," I said.
"I know," he said. "And I'm glad she was there. I am. I just didn't think it was going to be... that."
I closed my eyes. The buzzing lights got louder.
"Eli, Vivian's dad. What do you know about him?"
Another pause, longer this time. "He's upside down. I ran into Mark Croft at the club last month. He was talking about a bridge loan. Four hundred thousand, trying to cover a bad investment. He said Vivian was going to help him out after the wedding. I didn't put it together until tonight."
Four hundred thousand. The same number Vivian had said on the phone that morning when I'd thought she was joking about wedding costs.
"Did you tell the police this?" I asked.
"Not yet. Do you want me to come down there?"
"Yeah," I said. "Come down. And bring your phone with the texts."
I hung up before he could answer.
The lobby doors opened and a cold draft came in from the parking lot. Nora's deputy stepped out and said she wanted water. I nodded and walked toward the hallway where they'd stored our things. The Whitmore staff had packed our overnight bags when the police cleared the ballroom and sent them with us in the cruisers. They were lined against the wall by the evidence locker, tagged but not seized. Vivian's white leather duffel sat next to my garment bag.
The deputy at the desk was on the phone and not watching. I crouched next to the duffel.
"Mr. Mercer, you can't open that," Nora said softly behind me.
I turned. She was standing in the hallway doorway, the uniform behind her. She looked tired, her dark navy dress wrinkled, her bun coming loose. But her eyes were clear.
"It's my wife's bag," I said.
"It'll look bad if you go through it without them present," she said. Then she glanced at the desk. The deputy had turned away. "Make it fast."
I unzipped the top. Inside were the lace gown folded in plastic, makeup, a crystal clutch. Underneath, a manila envelope. I pulled it out. It wasn't sealed.
Inside was a single sheet, thick paper, our firm's letterhead. PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT WAIVER OF RIGHTS. At the bottom were two signatures. Vivian Croft's looping hand, and mine. Except I hadn't signed it. The signature that was supposed to be mine was a forgery, close but off on the D, hurried.
And at the top, a notary stamp. Date: Today. Time: 9:14 AM.
That morning. Before the vows. Before she walked down the aisle in the white lace and the tiara.
I stared at the time stamp. My hand started to tremble.
"She did it before the ceremony," I whispered.
Nora crouched beside me. She didn't touch the paper. She just looked at it.
"She told the notary you had an early photo call," she said quietly. "I heard her on the phone while I was waiting in the service hall. She said you authorized me to witness. I didn't. I never did."
I zipped the bag closed and slid the envelope back exactly how I'd found it. I stood up as the desk deputy turned back around.
May you like
Outside, headlights swept the parking lot as a car pulled in fast. Eli's truck.
I hadn't confronted Vivian. I couldn't yet. But I finally understood what the wedding had actually been. Not a marriage. A transaction that needed my signature before midnight, and a glass of champagne to make sure I wouldn't stay awake long enough to notice it was fake.
