Chapter 6: The Florist Who Wasn't
My attorney's name was Judith Crane.
I had used her twice before — once for a lease dispute, once for a minor employment matter — and both times she had been precise, unhurried, and correct.
She read the cease-and-desist letter in silence while I sat across from her desk.
When she finished, she set it down.
"He's scared," she said.
"I know."
"Scared people make mistakes.
This letter is one of them." She tapped the bottom of the page.
"The handwritten addition alone tells me he sent this without his attorney's full approval.
No competent counsel lets a client handwrite personal notes onto legal correspondence." She looked up.
"What do you want, Evelyn?
In plain terms."
"I want him charged.
I want the fabricated bank records exposed.
I want my father's will restored.
And I want Sophie to never have to be in the same room as him again."
Judith made a note.
"That's four things.
Three of them are achievable in the near term.
The fourth will require a conversation with your father, which is a separate matter." She set her pen down.
"Tell me about the florist."
I told her what Sophie had described.
The apron.
The ponytail.
The scratch on the left hand.
The way she hadn't quite looked at Sophie when she apologized.
"Detective Cho is cross-referencing the vendor list," I said.
"Good.
If the woman is on the hotel's contracted staff, she's traceable.
If she's not on the list, that's even more useful — it means Preston brought her in, which means there's a paper trail somewhere.
A payment.
A phone call.
A text." Judith folded her hands.
"People who do favors for men like Preston always keep something.
Insurance.
In case it goes wrong."
"It went wrong."
"Significantly." She almost smiled.
"I'll contact Detective Cho's office this afternoon and formally enter as your counsel of record.
I'll also file a response to the cease-and-desist — we'll be declining, obviously, and I'll make sure Preston's attorney understands the evidentiary position they're walking into."
I stood to leave.
"One more thing," Judith said.
"Your father.
You said he admitted he signed the amended will based on fabricated bank records."
"He didn't quite admit it.
But he didn't deny it either."
"Do you believe he knew the records were false?"
I thought about his voice on the phone.
The pauses.
The careful phrasing.
"No," I said finally.
"I think he believed them."
"Then he's a victim of this too," Judith said.
"That matters.
If he's willing to acknowledge the records were presented to him fraudulently, it significantly strengthens the case for restoring the original will — and it gives your father a path that doesn't require him to admit he chose Preston over you.
It lets him say he was deceived." She paused.
"Some people need that door."
I thought about my father adjusting his cuff links while Sophie bl*d.
"I'll think about it," I said.
---
Detective Cho called three days later.
"We found her," she said.
"Her name is Brenda Falk.
She's a freelance event worker — she's done floral setup for three different vendors the hotel uses.
She was not on the contracted staff list for the Alderton wedding."
"Preston brought her in."
"We found a cash payment of eight hundred dollars deposited into her account four days before the wedding.
The transfer originated from a shell account we're still tracing, but the account was opened with an email address registered to a device on Preston's home network."
I sat down.
"She's talking," Detective Cho continued.
"She didn't know what was in the phone.
She thought she was helping him retrieve something he'd accidentally left in a child's jacket — his story to her was that his niece had picked it up by mistake and he didn't want to embarrass her by asking for it back directly."
"He gave her a cover story."
"A good one.
She believed him.
When she realized what had actually happened — when she saw the news coverage — she came to us voluntarily." A pause.
"She has the original text messages he sent her.
Burner number, but the content is specific enough to be damaging.
He described Sophie by name, described the jacket, described exactly which pocket."
"He named her," I said.
"He named my eight-year-old daughter in a text message to a woman he hired to plant evidence on her."
"Yes."
The room was very quiet.
"Ms.
Alderton.
I want to prepare you.
We're moving toward formal charges.
Felony child @buse, criminal conspiracy, and evidence tampering.
His attorney will push for a bail arrangement and he won't see the inside of a cell before trial — I want to be honest with you about that.
But the charges will be filed.
Probably within the week."
"Okay," I said.
"There's one more thing.
When we interviewed Brenda Falk, she mentioned something she overheard Preston say on the phone the night of the wedding.
Before the officers arrived.
She was still in the service corridor." Detective Cho's voice was careful now.
"He said, and I'm quoting from her statement: 'It doesn't matter what the camera shows.
Dad will handle it.'"
The air went out of the room.
"He thought my father would make it go away," I said.
"That's what it suggests."
I ended the call and sat for a long time without moving.
Then I picked up my phone and called my father.
He answered on the second ring.
"I need to see you," I said.
"Today.
Just you.
Not Mom.
Not Preston's attorney.
Just you and me."
A long pause.
May you like
"All right," he said quietly.
"Come to the house."
