Chapter 6: The Memorial Luncheon

I did not call security.

I called Bea.

By eleven that night she had the penthouse lobby tape, and by morning she had the concierge who owned the key card.

He cried in her car and said a blonde woman had paid him two thousand dollars in cash to let her up at four-fifteen.

"She told me she was the bride's friend," he said. "She said it was a surprise."

Bea recorded every word on her phone.

"This is the best week of my career," she told me.

On Thursday, the Danny Aldous Memorial Foundation held its annual luncheon in a hotel ballroom.

It was the same hotel as my wedding, and it was also the one place Whitney could not be wrong in front of anyone.

She chaired the foundation.

She'd chaired it for three years, in her brother's name, and she raised four hundred thousand dollars a year on it.

Elias had bought a table for fifty thousand dollars that morning.

"You're donating to her?" I asked him in the car.

"I'm donating to Danny," he said. "Whitney can't keep it."

He didn't say anything else, and I decided not to ask.

There were three hundred people in the ballroom, mostly women in pastel suits with their hair set.

Whitney stood at a podium in a soft gray dress with a white ribbon pinned to her chest.

A photograph of her brother glowed on the screen behind her.

I had met Danny twice.

He had been funny and kind, and he had died on a wet road at twenty-seven with Trevor in the driver's seat.

"Three years ago," Whitney said, and her voice broke exactly where it always broke, "I lost the person I loved most."

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