Page List


Font:  

“I know without a doubt that neither my wife nor I were involved. If the Underwoods want justice, I don’t blame them.”

“And what, Everett? Bring out the fact that my office pushed for the declaration of suicide? That discovery won’t help your wife, you, or me. I can’t afford to get caught in what could be construed as a cover-up.”

“You’re right. What do you want from me?”

“I need to speak to your wife. We want her to come to the courthouse and make a formal statement.” He came closer. “Hell, unofficially, she was considered a missing person.” He shook his head. “I would have put money on the fact that she was dead. And you had her here all along. I trusted you.”

Standing, I secured the buttons on my suit coat as I straightened my neck and shoulders. “Did I lie to you?”

“You said you didn’t know her or where she was.”

“I don’t recall saying those words. I do remember you saying that you were worried about her, and that you believed she was a pawn in a bigger game. There’s no need to worry. I can assure you that Emma Ramses is safe.”

“For how long?”

My jaw clenched. “Forever, Richard.”

“Let us get her statement—on the record. The feds were already curious about the cryptocurrency. They’ll want to know Mrs. Ramses’s connection to Underwood, the last time she saw him, why they traveled here to New Orleans, and her knowledge of his income. If we don’t have a statement on record, the feds will want to get their own, and I promise they won’t ask as nicely as I’m asking.” Michelson exhaled. “Be straight with me, Everett. Did you pay Underwood in cryptocurrency to bring Emma O’Brien to New Orleans?”

“I must admit, I’m shamefully behind the times with the whole premise of cryptocurrency. I have done some recent research and learned there are thousands of different cryptocurrencies traded.”

His ruddy complexion grew in intensity.

“Let me be more specific,” I said. “No, I didn’t pay Underwood cryptocurrency to bring Emma to New Orleans. You yourself said a connection to the digital currency was made to Jezebel North. Perhaps if she is Emma’s birthparent—as you said—she wanted to lure her daughter here.”

“And instead, her daughter ended up married to you?”

“Fate has a way of making strange bedfellows.”

Michelson shook his head. “I thought you said you didn’t kiss and tell.”

“She’s my wife. My affection isn’t a secret.”

Michelson looked at his wristwatch. “It’s almost noon. We’d like Emma Ramses” —he emphasized her last name— “at the courthouse by three this afternoon. And she’ll need to bring her identification.”

“She hasn’t had time to get an ID with her new last name.” Emma also wouldn’t show for this command performance, but there was no need to bring that to Michelson’s attention yet.

“I’m aware that her identification was used to commission the marriage license and sign the certificate.”

Her driver’s license was used to first obtain our marriage license, then to show to Judge McBride, and later to the officers of the court who came back here for the second signing.

Richard patted his suit coat. “I have a copy of your marriage license. That and her ID will be sufficient.” He lowered his volume. “If your wife is innocent, there is no reason for her not to make a statement.”

“She is innocent, yet the NOPD had her under suspicion.”

“If she is who I think she is and you didn’t lure her to New Orleans, then she would be safer coming forward.” Michelson pulled the small notebook from his inner pocket and peeled back a few pages. “Everett, when Mrs. Ramses is asked about meeting you, will her answer coincide with yours.”

“I haven’t been asked that question.”

“You stated that you didn’t have dinner with Emma O’Brien at Broussard’s six weeks ago.”

I nodded. “I had dinner with Emma North.”

His eyes opened wide. “Is that how she introduced herself to you?”

Turning, I went back to the chair and sat, leaned back, and lifted one heel to my opposite knee. “If my wife gives a statement, it will be limited to her knowledge of Ross Underwood. It will not be a fishing expedition. I will also be present.”

Michelson shook his head. “You may be her husband now, but she’s an adult. We’ll speak to her alone.”


Tags: Aleatha Romig Devil's Duet Erotic