Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

I couldn’t think straight. I was sure the topic had come up in some class, but my brain was fried. “That’s assuming his will sticks, which you’re going to make sure it doesn’t, since my grandfather’s will already covered what would happen in the case of Alton’s or my mother’s death. Anyway, assuming his will gets heard, how does that even work if Bryce is convicted? Felons can’t run corporations or manage investments.”

“Not easily but they don’t lose their property or ownership rights. They do lose their civil rights, like voting. But that wouldn’t matter. Mr. Fitzgerald made a provision for that.”

I sat at the small metal table and exhaled. “Of course he did. What?”

“Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer’s inheritance, if he were unable for any reason to claim it, would go into a trust.”

“The named executer of the said trust?” I asked, full well knowing the answer.

“Mr. Spencer’s mother.”

I shook my head. “You’re not talking Montague Corporation or the manor, because those have never been owned by Alton. They’ve remained in my mother’s name.”

“The manor is safe,” Daryl said.

That was good, because there was no way I’d let that bitch live in my mother’s home. “The corporation?”

“It’s complicated. The actual corporation is safe, unless the court mandates the changing of the internal structure from a private to a publicly traded commodity. It’s the profits over the last twenty years that could be ruled as his—at least fifty percent. This is all open to interpretation. My firm hasn’t seen the profit and loss reports for the last twenty years. It will take months, if not years, to get it all ironed out.”

I lowered my forehead to my folded arms and laid it upon the table. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and thought of New York. I imagined our apartment and the aroma of Lana’s lasagna. I pictured the view of the city from the balcony, the ribbons of cars and lights twinkling stories below. The door opened with a click and a swish, bringing me back to the stark reality of Savannah.

“Miss Collins,” Officer Emerson said. “Same Bat time, same Bat station.”

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

He sighed, taking the chair across from me as Daryl sat beside me. “Miss Collins, what can you tell me about your stepfather?”

“That’s a rather vague question,” Daryl replied. “Perhaps you could be more specific in what you’re wanting to know?”

“All right, Miss Collins, let’s start with your lack of grief upon learning of his death.”

I shook my head. “Shock. I’m in utter shock.”

“Does that mean you weren’t expecting it?”

“How, Officer Emerson, could I possibly have expected Alton’s death? I saw him two days ago. He was the same delusional, bellowing maniac he’s been my entire life.”

Officer Emerson looked up from his legal pad. “Two days ago, when your boyfriend threatened his life.”

“Two days ago, before I filed a restraining order against Alton Fitzgerald. It was after that when I took legal recourse against a man who has bullied and manipulated me my entire life. My boyfriend was with me as I filed. Why would he do anything that would jeopardize our going home when we’d put our faith in Savannah’s law enforcement and judicial system?”

“Do you know of anyone else who would have wanted to harm your stepfather?”

“There is probably a list a mile long of people who would want to. That said, I can’t think of one person brave enough to confront him.”

“What about Mrs. Spencer?”

I sat back and worked to keep the sneer from my expression. “Mrs. Spencer? What about her? She’s going through a lot with her son.”

Officer Emerson nodded. “It’s a stressful time. Tell me, exactly, if after bullying and manipulation—your words—your entire life, what made you file a restraining order now?” He leaned forward. “What was the straw, Miss Collins, the one that finally broke the camel’s back?”

The bats were back, flapping their wings and stirring the breakfast I’d eaten. “He scared me. He looked at me.”

“He looked at you? He’s been your stepfather for over twenty years and he’d never looked at you before?”

“Not like that.”

“Like what?” the officer asked.

I pushed back the chair and paced, hoping to calm the queasiness. “He proposed. It wasn’t even a proposal. It was a mandate. He said that after he divorced my mother I would marry him.” My breathing came faster. “He called me a spitfire and said…” I closed my eyes, willing the bile to stay put. “…he’d always wanted to tame me.” I collapsed into the chair.

“I was there,” Daryl said, reaching reassuringly for my hand. “So were Ralph Porter and Mrs. Spencer.”

“And so was your boyfriend, Lennox Demetri?” Emerson asked.

“Yes.”

“And Mr. Demetri was upset?”

“Yes, he was upset. So was I. So was Suzanna. She even cursed… multiple times.”

“Why do you think she was so upset?”

“Oh,” I said, “I don’t know. Maybe because the bitch has been his whore for thirty years and she finally thought she’d get the keys to the castle. She was prancing around like queen regent before the engagement party. And when she finally learns that he’s willing to divorce my mom, instead of giving her what she’s wanted for all these years, he shoved her aside and proposed to me.” I let out a long breath.