My husband had moved around toward me, like if he just sat down at the table, nothing bad would happen.
“Mr. Crosby,” the other agent said, following him, “you need to stop, turn around, and let me cuff you. Don’t make this hard on yourself and add charges.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” he said, nearly tripping as he backed away. He turned toward me, his eyes panicked. “Cricket, tell them.”
He was actually asking me to help him? “Tell them what? That you stole our savings and our retirement and put it in an offshore account with the tainted money that Donner gave you to feed him clients? Tell them you’re sleeping with our daughter’s tennis pro and plan to flee the country? Or tell them that you’re the . . . person of the year? Which would it be?”
Scott stopped, his face utterly shocked. If I could have taken a mental picture and framed it for all eternity, it would be that expression. The comeuppance. The moment he realized that I knew everything. That I wasn’t stupid. That I had rocked the motherfucking boat. “What?”
The SEC investigator caught up with him, taking him by the shoulder. One of the law enforcement officers jerked his left arm back and cuffed it. Scott’s mouth fell open, and I could see the wheels spinning. “Did you do this? Did you set this up? Because of Stephanie?”
I took a sip of wine and lifted a shoulder, not answering.
“You bitch!” he screamed, lurching toward me. Thankfully, he’d been cuffed, and there were several officers there to pull him back.
I had never been called a bitch before. Because I wasn’t. I was always the person who smoothed things over, who sent thoughtful gifts, and who remembered Scott’s mother’s birthday. Being a bitch was so far away from who I was that I truthfully had never, ever been called one. So one might think I would have been insulted and embarrassed at my husband of twenty-one years calling me a bitch in a roomful of our friends and colleagues, but I wasn’t. Instead I laughed. “From you that’s a compliment.”
Ruby let a chuckle escape as she squeezed my hand beneath the table.
“A compliment? You stupid bitch. You have no clue what you’ve done! I hold the cards, and I’m not going down for this. You’ll regret this. You’ll wish you had never said anything to anyone. You’ll wish—” They were leading him away, and everyone in the room looked on as if they were watching a play. The place was silent. Not even the clink of silverware could be heard as Donner and Scott were led from the room in cuffs.
But Scott’s last words made me angry. I stopped smiling and stood, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. They ping-ponged their heads like they were at Wimbledon instead of a normally boring luncheon. “I won’t wish anything, Scott Crosby. Except that I never married you! Besides, I’ll be in Grand Cayman sipping margaritas while you defend your actions to the courts and all the people you helped to steal money from.”
He stilled when I said “Grand Cayman.” He jerked away from the officer and came toward me. They grabbed him again and pulled him along. “What did you say? What do you know about Grand Cayman?”
I looked my husband straight in the eye. “That’s right. You signed the papers that gave me access that day at the bar. The SEC and Justice Department know all about the offshore accounts. I made sure they did.”
I’d never seen my husband go crazy, but at that moment he did. He looked like a wild animal trying to escape the ropes. And to make it even better, Stephanie rose, her face tragic. “You promised me, Scott! I told you we should have left last week, but you had to receive this award.”
Scott struggled against the agents. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. I love you, baby.”
Stephanie banged both hands onto the table. “You’re an idiot. This is over. It’s way over.”
“Nooo, don’t do this,” Scott called back as they pushed him through the door. “I love you. I did it all for you.”
Stephanie grabbed her purse and ran to the other side of the ballroom as if she had a Yorkie biting her ankles this time. Tears streaked her angry, betrayed face.
It was horrible.
It was wonderful.
It was justice.
I tossed down my napkin as the double doors swooshed closed. “Ready, Ruby?”
She nodded and stood beside me, taking my hand, which was a good thing because I was shaking with rage and a bevy of emotions I still couldn’t name. I was certain my legs wouldn’t hold me on my walk to the double doors my husband had just disappeared through, but I managed to make it as the room’s noise level went from hushed incredulity to out-and-out roaring with exclamation. I had no doubt someone had recorded it and the University Club annual celebration luncheon had just become the hottest ticket of the year.