Chương 2
He had not thought of her in years.
He had been told she was the daughter of a household employee. He had been told she moved away.
He had not been told she disappeared.
“Julian,” Eleanor said quietly, “give me the photograph.”
He folded his fingers around it.
“No.”
The word seemed to disturb her more than the photograph had.
Hotel security arrived from the north entrance. Two men in dark suits approached through the guests, careful and unsmiling. Their supervisor, a woman named Denise Alvarez, took in the positions of the four people, Mara’s reddened cheek, and the phones now visible in several guests’ hands.
“Ms. Bell,” Denise said, “are you injured?”
Mara swallowed. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Julian said.
Celeste turned toward him. “She was wearing stolen property.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
Denise stepped between them without appearing to. “We need to move this conversation out of the ballroom.”
Celeste’s father, Grant Warren, arrived from the bar with a flushed face and a glass of bourbon still in his hand. He was a broad man whose construction company’s name appeared on half the cranes in the city. He looked at his daughter, then at Mara, then at the cluster of guests.
“What happened?”
“An employee stole from the Vales,” Celeste said.
“Mara didn’t steal anything,” Julian replied.
It was the first time he used her name.
Mara noticed. So did Eleanor.
Grant took his daughter’s elbow. “We can sort this out privately.”
A phone flashed among the guests.
Grant saw it and changed direction immediately.
“Everyone,” he said, forcing warmth into his voice, “there’s been a misunderstanding. Please enjoy yourselves. The bar remains open.”
No one believed him, but people obeyed the social instruction to pretend. Conversations restarted in fragments. The quartet lifted their instruments. A bow scraped too loudly across a string, and the first few notes came apart before finding the melody.
Denise led Mara toward a service corridor. Julian followed. Eleanor followed Julian. Celeste came after them, holding the front of her satin gown above the floor. Grant remained behind to control the room, which meant asking guests not to post anything while three of them were already posting.
The corridor beyond the ballroom smelled of coffee, floor polish, and the lilies used in the reception arrangements. A cart of clean glassware stood against one wall. Through the swinging doors to the kitchen came the clatter of plates and the hiss of a dishwasher. The ordinary sounds made Mara’s cheek throb more sharply.
Denise opened a small meeting room normally used for staff briefings.
“Ms. Bell, sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“That’s fine.”
Denise asked an assistant to bring ice and call the hotel’s human resources manager. She then looked at Celeste.
“Ms. Warren, did you strike this employee?”
Celeste folded her arms. “I reacted to theft.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Grant entered just in time to hear it. “My daughter will not answer anything until counsel is present.”
“This is a workplace incident in my hotel,” Denise said. “I’m documenting what happened. Several witnesses saw it.”
“Mara,” said a voice from the doorway.
Tom Reyes, the evening coat-check supervisor, stood there in a vest one size too large. He was fifty-six and had worked at the Marlowe Hotel longer than Mara had been alive. His eyes moved to her cheek and hardened.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
Tom looked at Celeste. “She asked if I was okay.”
“I was speaking to my employee,” he said.
The assistant returned with ice wrapped in a white bar towel. Mara accepted it and pressed it gently against her cheek. The cold hurt before it helped.
Julian still held the photograph.
“Who gave this to you?” he asked.
Mara looked at Denise. “Am I being fired?”
“No,” Denise said. “You are not being disciplined for being assaulted.”
“I came to work knowing they would be here.”
The room changed around that sentence.
Tom frowned. Celeste’s mouth tightened in triumph. Eleanor became motionless.
Mara forced herself to continue. “I didn’t plan what happened in the ballroom. I didn’t expect anyone to see the locket. It usually stays under my collar. But I knew the Vale engagement was tonight.”
“So you targeted us,” Celeste said.
“I wanted to speak to Mr. Vale.”
“You took a job here to get near him?”
“I already worked here.”
“For how long?” Julian asked.
“Eight months.”
“And when did you learn about the reception?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Celeste gave a short, humorless laugh. “You expect us to believe this is an accident?”
“No,” Mara said. “I expect you to believe I was afraid.”
Her voice was soft, but it stopped Celeste.
Mara shifted the ice against her cheek. Her fingers had begun to tremble, and she hid them in the towel.
“I wrote twice to the Vale Foundation. I got form letters back. I called your office and was transferred until the call dropped. I sent a copy of the photograph to an address I found for your family’s attorney. No one responded.”
Eleanor’s gaze sharpened. “Which attorney?”
“Mr. Peter Leland.”
Julian looked at his mother. “Peter never mentioned it.”
“I receive dozens of fraudulent claims every year.”
“You receive them?”
“The family office reviews them.”
“Did you see hers?”
Eleanor adjusted the pearl necklace at her throat. “I do not remember.”
Mara watched the movement. It was the first dishonest thing about Eleanor she could recognize with certainty. Not because of the words. Because the woman had not touched the necklace once in the ballroom, even when the clasp had twisted against her neck.
“You remember,” Mara said.
Grant stepped forward. “This is turning into an ambush.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Your daughter hit her.”
“Stay out of this.”
“I’m her supervisor.”
“You check coats.”
May you like
“And you build parking garages. Everybody’s got a job.”
Under other circumstances, Mara might have smiled. Tom often said the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time, but his hand was steady when he placed a chair behind her in case she changed her mind about standing.
