Their faces lit up simultaneously, knowing exactly where I was going with this.
"Sure, we'd love to speak to him. Although to me, this looks like an open and shut case," one of them said, tipping his hat to me.
"I agree. Do we know why they came here with guns? While we wait for your lawyer, why don't you tell us your side of the story, Mr. Gatsby?"
I pulled out my phone, shot a call over to my lawyer, and then came around to sit at my desk and spin a story.
"Clarke recently lost his wife. She'd run off with her lover, and Max had told him it was me. As I had not left town and his wife wasn't here, he accused me of murdering her. When I laughed off the incredulous idea, he shot me."
"And why was Max Stanton here?"
"Because Iwashaving an affair with his woman." I grinned and glanced at Daisy who was still standing across the room, staring at the bodies.
The officers chuckled and wrote what I told them. Soon, my lawyer arrived, and I took Daisy up to my bedroom, thanking the officers for understanding.
"It's unfortunate, but as I do have a reputation, let's keep this quiet."
"Yes, sir," they said in unison as they slid the large checks into their pockets.
The moment Daisy and I were alone, she broke.
"Oh my god. What did we do? What is going to happen? People will know. Just paying off city police isn't going to do anything, Gatsby. This is bad; people will come for us."
I grabbed her shoulders and steadied her.
"Sshh... yes, people probably will come looking around, but there will be nothing to be found. We're leaving tonight." I turned her around and pushed her toward the closet. "Come, let's change, put something more comfortable on. We have a long flight."
"A flight? I can't just leave. What about my things, my company, the show, Tuth and Neal and—" She stopped crying, and I turned to see her face had gone blank. "What about Lydia?"
That was a good question. She crumpled to the ground and began to cry again.
"I never wanted to be her mother. I don't love her the way she deserves. I resented her for the choice I made—picking money over freedom. And her poor mother… Max ripped the baby from her arms and thrust her into mine. She died giving birth, so we couldn't give her back. I didn't know what to do. I still don't. Gatsby…" She looked up, her makeup running down her face. "I can't pretend anymore."
I helped her up, soothing her.
"I'll take her."
The voice startled us both. We looked out the doorway at Tuth.
"I was at the party when the gun went off. As Daisy's main security, I thought it best to stick around. I knocked, but no one answered, and I assumed no one would be having sex right now so—" they were rambling, and I put my hand up to stop them.
"What did you say before?"
They cleared their throat. "I'll take the little girl.” They stepped forward and reached for their friend’s hands. "Being able to acknowledge that you wouldn't make a good parent is respectable. If you don't want her, I'll take her."
"Where will you go?" Daisy asked.
Tuth grinned.
"Where are you guys headed?"
Two hours later, the police had left, the party was cleared out, and Daisy and Tuth had retrieved Lydia from the house on the other side of the lake. We all stood at the door, Dewayne waiting to take us to my private plane.
"Tell the staff thank you for everything," I said.
"Of course. We extend the same gratitude, Mr. Gatsby. We will finish our two weeks, restore this place, and then close its doors. It will be as if you never existed."
I nodded appreciatively. "Good."
