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together. Rebecca believed Fidelis was helping her stepsons sue her for control of the company.” Apparently, Rebecca had been wrong about that. “So she was actually with Billy? I—”
    “He claims to have an alibi.” Venus interrupted me. “He was apparently with his
other
mistress.”
    “Other mistress?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “He had
another
mistress? Who?”
    Venus’ face was completely without expression as she replied, “Chloe Valence.”

Chapter Five
    I stared at Blaine, trying to pick my chin up from the floor.
    Chloe Valence?
    “Seriously— Chloe is giving him an alibi?” I couldn’t be hearing that right— I wanted to laugh out loud. What a hypocrite! How many times had she talked about her happy marriage on the show last night? She’d almost convinced me that at the very least Remy was a bisexual. “She’s willing to get up in court and admit that she’s cheating on her husband?” I shook my head to clear it. That wasn’t the Chloe I’d come to know and loathe. There had to be something in it for Chloe if she was willing to risk getting off the Valence gravy train. But if Rebecca had inherited the entire Barron estate— then what did Billy have to offer her?
    Then again, it was entirely possible Remy didn’t care where Chloe got her kicks— but I couldn’t imagine him being okay with her exposing the secret of their Uptown marriage to the general public.
    And bitchy as it felt, I kind of liked the idea of Chloe being exposed as the phony she always had been.
    “Yeah, I thought you’d like to hear that,” Venus raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth slightly twitching. “But we haven’t been able to reach her to see if she’ll confirm his story. No one at the Best Western on St. Charles saw her. Billy was alone when he checked in last night— but why else would he check into a hotel unless he was meeting someone?”
    “Why wouldn’t they just go to his house?” I asked. “Why pay for a hotel when you live here? That doesn’t make any sense— unless he was trying to establish an alibi.”
    Blaine shrugged. “Yeah, that’s kind of what we were thinking. Of course, as soon as we asked him that, he asked for a lawyer.” He made a face. “Loren McKeithen.”
    “Well, he is the best,” I replied. It was true. When the rich and famous of New Orleans— anywhere in Louisiana, for that matter— ran afoul of the law, Loren McKeithen was the lawyer they called. I knew Loren fairly well. He was a great lawyer, and I thought he was a pretty nice guy. He did a lot of pro bono work for abused women— getting them restraining orders and representing them in divorce court and custody struggles with their exes. That goes a long way with me. I knew Chanse despised him— Loren had hired him once on behalf of one of his clients and thrown him under the bus without a qualm. It wasn’t cool, so I totally understood where Chanse was coming from— but I also kind of understood why Loren had done it. It was in the best interests of his client.
    Naturally, I never said that to Chanse— I may not the smartest person in the world, but I’m not crazy.
    “Couldn’t Chloe have just gone over to his house?” I scratched my head. “Why would
she
run the risk of being seen at a hotel?”
    “I would imagine,” Venus said, her voice completely deadpan, “that Chloe didn’t want to drive to English Turn.”
    English Turn really wasn’t that far from New Orleans— at most, around eight or nine miles from the Garden District. It was a gated community, with big homes that could best be described as McMansions. Snobbish New Orleanians would never deign to live there, despite the enormous lots, the access to a private country club and golf course. For one thing, it was
new
by New Orleans standards, and for another, it was on the West Bank. It was nestled in a curve of the Mississippi River, just across from the Marigny/Bywater neighborhoods downtown. It was called