Chapter 9: What Garrick Told the Press
Sable's voice on the phone was the calmest it had been in weeks — which meant she was furious.
"He went to the press before his arraignment was even twenty-four hours old," she said.
"His new attorney either advised it or couldn't stop it.
Either way, it's a calculated move."
"What is he saying?"
"I've seen the draft.
Renata Voss sent it to your editor contact for comment, which is standard.
He's framing it as a vindictive divorce action.
He says you discovered his relationship with Delphine and decided to destroy him financially and professionally.
He says the letter to the judge was a deliberate ambush.
He says Frances Holt was a disgruntled employee you recruited."
"He's saying I recruited Frances."
"Yes."
Marlowe sat with that for a moment.
"Frances came to me."
"I know.
We have the phone records showing she initiated contact." Sable paused.
"Here's what I want you to understand.
He can say whatever he wants to the press.
It doesn't change the forensic evidence.
It doesn't change the Veltrane filing.
It doesn't change the DA's charges." Her voice steadied further.
"But it will be uncomfortable.
People who don't know the facts will read it and form opinions."
"Can we respond?"
"Carefully.
I'm drafting a statement — one paragraph, factual, no emotional language.
It will confirm the charges are the result of a DA investigation, not a personal filing by you, and it will note that the forensic evidence has been independently verified." Sable paused.
"Nothing more than that.
We do not engage with his narrative.
We let the facts speak."
"All right."
"Marlowe." Sable's voice shifted slightly.
"How are you doing?
Actually."
Marlowe looked at the window.
The rain had stopped.
The street outside was wet and gray and very quiet.
"I'm all right," she said.
And then, because Sable had earned honesty: "I'm tired.
I keep thinking it should feel different by now.
Like it should be getting lighter."
"It will," Sable said.
"Not yet.
But it will."
---
The article ran on a Saturday.
Marlowe read it once, at her kitchen table, with both hands flat on the surface as if she needed the anchor.
Garrick's version of events was smooth and coherent and almost entirely false.
He described a marriage that had soured gradually, a wife who had grown cold and controlling, a man who had made one mistake — Delphine — and was now being punished far beyond what was warranted.
He described the letter to the judge as a trap.
He described Frances as a woman with a grudge.
He did not mention the forged signature.
His attorney had clearly advised him not to mention the forged signature.
Sable's statement ran at the bottom of the article, four sentences, precise and dry.
It mentioned the forensic findings.
It mentioned the DA's independent investigation.
It said nothing about Marlowe's feelings, her history, or her intentions.
Marlowe read it and thought: *good.*
---
Frances called that afternoon.
"I read it," she said.
"He called me a woman with a grudge."
"He did."
"Twenty-three years." Frances's voice was even, but something underneath it was not.
"I ironed his shirts when he was sixteen years old.
I sat with his father the night he d*ed because Cordelia couldn't bear to be in the room." A pause.
"A grudge."
"Frances." Marlowe kept her voice gentle.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm angry," Frances said.
"Which is different from not being all right." A short silence.
"I wanted to call you because I wanted you to know — I'm not changing my mind.
Whatever he says publicly, whatever his attorneys do in court.
I'm not changing my mind."
"I know," Marlowe said.
"I just needed to say it out loud."
"I'm glad you did."
After the call ended, Marlowe sat for a while without moving.
Then she went to her bedroom and opened the drawer of her nightstand.
Inside, under two books she hadn't read in months, was a small photograph — her and Garrick, taken maybe eight years ago, at a dinner with friends.
They were both laughing at something outside the frame.
She looked happy in it.
She had been happy in it, she thought.
That was the part that was hardest to hold — that it had been real, at some point, before it wasn't.
She put the photograph back in the drawer.
She didn't throw it away.
But she closed the drawer and didn't open it again.
The next morning, Whitmore — Garrick's new attorney — filed a motion to suppress Frances's notes as evidence, arguing they were obtained improperly and constituted a violation of Cordelia Sterling's reasonable expectation of privacy.
The motion landed on Sable's desk at seven in the morning.
May you like
By eight, Sable had called Marlowe.
"He's going after Frances," she said.
