Chapter 4: The Back Stairs

I went to the Aldrich Grand at nine o'clock, because that was when the investor breakfast started.

Benton parked at the curb and turned off the engine.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

"He fired me by email at six in the morning, in front of payroll."

"I know."

"Then I'm going to collect my knives."

I got out before I could change my mind.

The lobby was all marble and white orchids, with a banner over the ballroom doors that read Aldrich Hotels: The Next Hundred Years.

A man in a lanyard stopped me at the ballroom entrance.

"Ma'am, this is a private event."

"I'm on the family list," I said. "Hallie Abernathy. I'm married to the host."

He looked at his tablet, frowned, and let me through.

Dalton stood at the head of the room with a microphone, in a grey suit, in front of eighty people eating eggs.

Camille sat at his right hand.

The emerald was on her finger, and she was holding it very still against her napkin.

"Our growth this year," Dalton was saying, "is built on trust. On people who keep faith with this family."

I walked down the center aisle between the tables.

Heads turned.

A woman at table four put down her coffee.

"Good morning," I said.

Dalton saw me, and for one second his face showed nothing at all.

Then he smiled.

"Hallie," he said into the microphone, warmly. "Everyone, this is my wife."

A few people smiled back.

"Hallie hasn't been well," he said. "She's been under terrible strain, and we're all so worried. Darling, why don't we sit you down."

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