Chapter 5 - THE POLICE ASKED THE QUESTION I COULDN’T
Detective Benton watched Ellen carefully.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“I know.”
Ellen’s voice barely carried.
“We need to establish what occurred.”
She placed a tablet on our dining table.
A still image from the corridor appeared.
Michael’s hand around Ellen’s arm.
Cassandra standing inches away.
“Is this you?”
“Yes.”
“Did your daughter-in-law strike you?”
Ellen hesitated.
I wanted to answer for her.
I didn’t.
“Yes.”
“Did your son shove you?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Did you give either of them permission to touch you?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten them?”
“No.”
“Did you strike Cassandra first?”
Ellen’s head snapped up.
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
I thought of Michael’s message.
CASSANDRA SAYS MOM ATTACKED HER FIRST.
Detective Benton nodded.
“There are two cameras covering that hallway.”
I looked at her.
“Two?”
“The second angle was recovered this morning.”
That was new.
“What does it show?”
“It shows the entire incident from behind Mrs. Whitaker.”
Ellen gripped my hand.
Detective Benton continued.
“It clearly shows Mrs. Whitaker never touched Cassandra.”
Something inside me relaxed for the first time in days.
Then the detective’s expression hardened.
“But there’s another problem.”
She opened a photograph.
It showed a man in a black catering uniform standing near the far doorway.
“Do either of you recognize him?”
“No.”
Ellen leaned closer.
Then stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I saw him earlier.”
“Where?”
“Near Cassandra’s dressing room.”
Detective Benton nodded slowly.
“He wasn’t employed by the venue.”
I felt a chill.
“Then who was he?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
The man had entered through a service entrance using a temporary vendor credential.
That credential had been issued under the wedding planner’s account.
Security footage showed him entering Cassandra’s bridal suite two hours before Ellen was attacked.
He left carrying a small envelope.
Then disappeared from the property eleven minutes after the hallway incident.
“What does this have to do with Ellen?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The detective looked at my wife.
“But someone paid him.”
“How do you know?”
“A venue employee overheard him arguing with another vendor.”
She paused.
“He said he wasn’t risking arrest for five thousand dollars.”
Five thousand dollars.
I looked at Ellen.
She looked terrified.
The detective stood.
“We’ll be speaking with Michael and Cassandra today.”
“Are you arresting them?”
“Not yet.”
Not yet.
After she left, Ellen sat in silence.
Then she said, “Robert, I want this to stop.”
I stared at her.
“It stopped being ours to stop.”
“They’re still our children.”
“Cassandra isn’t.”
“Michael is.”
“Yes.”
I moved closer.
“And that’s why this hurts.”
My phone rang.
Rebecca.
I answered.
“We found more.”
“How much?”
“It isn’t about the expense account.”
Her voice was tense.
“Someone tried to take a loan against Michael’s future trust distribution six months ago.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“The trust prohibits it.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
“They submitted documents claiming you had approved an early distribution.”
My blood went cold.
“I approved nothing.”
“I know that too.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who signed the authorization?”
Rebecca exhaled.
“Your signature is on it.”
For the second time that week, my son had forced me to ask a question I never imagined asking.
Had Michael simply become cruel?
May you like
Or had he been stealing from us long before the wedding?
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