Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig
Rett
“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” Michelson said, standing as I entered the front office.
“It’s nice to see you too, Richard.”
“Married.” He held up what I could only assume was a copy of my and Emma’s marriage certificate. “To a woman you claimed to not know.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t invited. It was a private ceremony.”
“The invitation didn’t work out well for Raymond McBride.”
I shook my head as I took the opposite chair. “That was unfortunate.”
Michelson sat on the edge of the other velvet chair. “It seems a possibility to a few people downtown that perhaps you didn’t want witnesses.”
“Excuse me? Please be more specific. I’ve found generalities aren’t always interpreted correctly.”
He opened the piece of paper. “Ian Knolls and Ruth Guidry are employed by Devereux Inc.” He looked up. “Which is you, am I correct?”
Devereux Incorporated was created by my grandfather in my grandmother’s maiden name as a corporation for her to oversee all things related to the house. That included maintenance and salaries paid to household staff. While the entity was in essence part of the Ramses umbrella, the control was transferred to my mother. Currently, it was simply a subsidiary that was devoted to expenses that centered on the house. Instead of explaining that, I simply said, “In a roundabout way.”
“So the only nonemployee or nonfamily member who witnessed your wedding is now deceased.”
I inhaled. “Are you asking me if I had anything to do with Judge McBride’s death?”
“You were aware of it before it was public.”
“Boyd Clark followed up on the certificate to be sure it was filed. The rest of the information came from that call.” I leaned back. “Why would I eliminate the man who was about to file my marriage certificate?”
“Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was your wife. She has a history of association with people immediately prior to their demise.”
It wasn’t my wife, but I was getting closer to adding Richard Michelson to the growing list of casualties. “I can attest to my wife’s whereabouts.”
“And she yours. It’s rather convenient.”
“Who were you with the morning after your wedding, Richard?”
He nodded.
I sat forward. “I have a busy day and the tone of this conversation isn’t to my liking. Tell me why you’re here.”
“Underwood’s parents have appealed to the Louisiana attorney general for an investigation into their son’s death. They claim that there is no basis for a declaration of suicide. They’ve gone as far as to make wrongful death complaints. The feds had backed off on the electronic currency trail, but this potential legal maneuver will undoubtedly reel them back in.” Standing, Richard paced to the tall window and let out a long breath. “Everett, if the Underwoods can convince the AG to pursue this, their case has merit.”
“As you can imagine, Mrs. Ramses was very upset to learn of her friend’s suicide. If that isn’t what happened, I agree that we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Michelson turned my way and exhaled. “You’re now behind an investigation that you didn’t want to have happen six weeks ago?”
“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.”
“I don’t think that’ll be possible.” I placed my lifted foot back on the rug and leaned forward. “Don’t tell me that this isn’t my business, Richard. I think we both know it is.” I stood. “I think we’re done.”
“This will go much smoother with me and an NOPD detective than it will when the feds come calling. If we have Mrs. Ramses’s statement on the record, she might be able to avoid speaking to them at all.”
“She has the right to representation.”
“She isn’t being charged with a crime. She’s a witness.”
“I’ll talk to her. The decision is hers.”
Michelson smiled. “Of course it is.” His gaze went toward the double doors. “Perhaps I could ask her myself.” His gray eyes met mine. “Is she currently home?”
I offered the prosecutor my hand. “Thank you for the visit, Richard. I’ll be in touch.”
