Chapter 4: The Detective and the Deal
The consultation room had two chairs, a table, and a paper cup of cold coffee that no one had touched.
The detective was younger than she expected — mid-thirties, dark jacket, a notepad already open on the table.
He stood when she entered.
"Mrs.
Carver.
I'm Detective Reyes.
Thank you for coming in."
"I didn't have much choice."
"Please, sit down."
She sat.
He sat across from her and clicked his pen once.
"Can you walk me through last night?
From the reception to the moment you called 911?"
Paige told him everything.
The ballroom.
The note Raymond had received.
The bedroom.
Raymond collapsing.
She kept her voice even and her hands still on the table.
When she finished, Reyes looked at his notepad for a moment.
"The note," he said.
"Did you see it?"
"Raymond showed it to no one.
I only know it existed because a waiter delivered it.
I saw Raymond's face change after he read it."
"And you have no idea who sent it."
"I have a name," she said.
"Stuart Whitmore."
Reyes's pen stopped moving.
He looked up.
"Where did you get that name?"
"My stepfather.
He's in the waiting room.
He has information about Whitmore's connection to Raymond's business dealings and about why someone at that reception may have wanted Raymond incapacitated."
Reyes set the pen down.
"Mrs.
Carver, I need to ask you something directly.
Were you aware, before last night, that your husband's drink had been tampered with?"
"No."
"Were you involved in any plan to harm Raymond Carver?"
"No."
"Do you stand to benefit financially from his current condition?"
She held his gaze.
"I signed a prenuptial agreement three days before the wedding.
If Raymond dies or if we divorce within five years, I receive nothing beyond what I came in with.
Which was nothing." She paused.
"Raymond's attorney has a copy.
So does mine."
Reyes picked up his pen again.
He wrote something she couldn't read upside down.
"There's something else," she said.
She told him about the messages.
The unknown number.
The photos.
She placed her phone on the table and let him read both texts.
Reyes read them twice.
He didn't reach for the phone.
"If you hand me that phone," he said carefully, "this becomes an official evidence submission.
You understand that?"
"Yes."
"And you're doing that voluntarily."
"I am."
He took the phone.
He photographed both messages with his own device, then slid hers back across the table.
"I'm going to need your stepfather's full name and contact information."
"Gavin Marsh.
He's in the waiting room."
Reyes stood.
He was almost at the door when he stopped.
"Mrs.
Carver — the prenuptial agreement.
Who drew it up?"
"Raymond's attorney.
A man named Clifford Holt.
Raymond insisted on it." She looked at him steadily.
"He trusted no one.
Not even me."
Reyes nodded slowly.
"That's interesting," he said, almost to himself.
"Because according to the hospital's financial liaison, someone attempted to access Raymond Carver's primary account at six forty-seven this morning.
Using a power of attorney document that was filed two weeks ago."
Paige went very still.
"Raymond never mentioned a power of attorney to me."
"No," Reyes said.
"He wouldn't have.
Because the signature on it isn't his."
He left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Paige sat alone in the room.
Her phone was face-up on the table.
May you like
The screen stayed dark.
Someone had been planning this long before the wedding.
