Chương 10
“Not yet,” she said.
June let the silence remain.
Their mother called from somewhere in the background, asking whether Claire had eaten.
“Yes,” Claire said.
“What?”
“A roll.”
June relayed the answer.
Their mother used a word Claire had not heard her use since Claire dropped out of piano lessons at thirteen.
“I have to go,” Claire said.
“Call tonight.”
“I may be working.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
After the call, Claire stayed in the closet another minute.
She did not cry. She adjusted a stack of paper that did not need adjusting and listened to the ventilation hum.
When she returned to the training room, Ethan was waiting in the hall.
“Detective Ortiz called,” he said. “Nolan’s lawyer wants to speak with you.”
The lawyer’s office occupied the top floor of a converted townhouse near Madison Square Park. Nolan sat at the end of a polished table with his right wrist in a brace and a bruise along his collarbone. He wore a blue cashmere sweater instead of a tuxedo. Without alcohol reddening his face, he looked older and less substantial.
His attorney, Malcolm Dray, began by stating that the meeting was off the record.
Detective Ortiz, seated beside Claire, said, “Nothing in this room is off the record unless I agree.”
Dray looked unhappy.
Nolan looked at Claire’s throat.
“Did I do that?”
Claire did not answer.
He glanced away. “I don’t remember all of it.”
“You remember the sentence,” Ortiz said. “You repeated it to a nurse.”
Nolan rubbed the edge of his brace with his thumb. “I say things when I drink.”
“That sentence sounded prepared,” Claire said.
He looked at her then.
His coldness returned, but it did not fit as well without the ballroom around him.
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“At Adrian.”
“You put your hand around my throat.”
“I thought you were part of some performance.”
“What performance?”
Dray touched Nolan’s sleeve. Nolan pulled away.
“My brother said Adrian was bringing in someone to humiliate me,” Nolan said. “Some security woman. He said Adrian wanted footage of me losing control before Monday.”
“Graham told you that?” Ortiz asked.
“No.”
“You just said your brother.”
“I meant—he didn’t say it directly.”
“Who did?”
Nolan pressed his lips together.
Claire waited.
People filled silence when they feared what others might place in it.
“A message came through an account I use,” he said finally.
“What account?”
“A private group.”
“What kind of group?” Ortiz asked.
Dray intervened. “That is unrelated.”
Claire looked at Nolan. “Women are discussed there.”
His face answered.
Claire continued. “Someone posted my picture?”
“Not your face. The dress.”
“Before or after I arrived?”
“Before I saw you.”
“What did the message say?”
Nolan looked down at the brace. “That Adrian had hired a woman to provoke me. That she’d call me weak. That he wanted me removed from the board.”
“You were already drunk,” Claire said.
“I was drinking.”
“You assaulted a stranger because an anonymous message suggested your masculinity was being tested.”
Dray said, “This is not productive.”
“It may be the first accurate thing anyone has said to him today,” Ortiz replied.
Nolan’s breathing grew heavier. Claire watched his left shoulder tighten, jaw clench.
He noticed her noticing.
The tension drained from him.
“The message told me to keep you occupied until nine fifteen,” he said.
Claire leaned forward. “Exact words?”
“Keep the woman occupied. Make sure Reed sees it. Nine fifteen and it’s over.”
“What was over?”
“I thought the board problem.”
“Why?”
“Graham told me Adrian was preparing to blame us for the missing money.”
“Us?”
“The Voss family. Our vendors.”
“You knew about the audit,” Ortiz said.
“I knew there were questions.”
“Did Graham send the message?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you believed it came from someone close to him.”
Nolan’s eyes moved toward his lawyer.
That was the answer.
Claire asked, “Who else spoke to you at the gala?”
“People.”
“Grant Heller?”
Nolan’s thumb stopped moving along the brace.
Ortiz noticed.
“Heller told me to go home,” Nolan said.
“When?”
“Around eight thirty.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because he isn’t my father.”
“What else did he say?”
Nolan closed his eyes briefly. “He asked whether Graham had called. I said no. He said Graham was busy fixing what Adrian broke.”
“Did you see Heller near the service corridor?”
“I saw him talking to a banquet woman.”
“Describe her.”
“Black uniform. Mask. I didn’t look.”
“Jewelry?”
Nolan looked irritated.
Then he stared at Claire.
“Snake ring,” he said. “Silver. It caught on her glove.”
Ortiz’s pen stopped for half a second before continuing.
“Why didn’t you tell police this at the hospital?”
“Because I was in pain.”
“Because you were protecting your brother,” Claire said.
Nolan gave her a thin smile. “You think Adrian will protect you?”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
Claire stood.
“He protects the company,” she said. “Graham protects the company. Heller says he protected the company. Men like you keep using that phrase when you mean yourselves.”
Nolan’s smile vanished.
Claire left before he could give her another sentence worth remembering.
In the elevator, Ortiz said, “You shouldn’t antagonize witnesses.”
“He wasn’t giving you anything until he wanted to prove me wrong.”
“He gave us Heller and the woman.”
“He gave us a story. We need proof.”
Ortiz looked at her. “You really don’t let yourself enjoy anything.”
“The chair was satisfying.”
The detective laughed.
Claire did too, once, and the sound startled her.
The false Maya Trent was identified that night.
Her real name was Colleen Price. She had worked for a corporate event contractor in Baltimore until six months earlier, when she was fired for stealing guest information and selling it to celebrity photographers. The contractor had not reported the incident to clients because doing so would have exposed its own failure to supervise temporary staff.
May you like
Grant Heller had signed the contract renewal anyway.
Colleen’s bank records required warrants. Her known phone numbers were disconnected. The address on her license belonged to a short-term rental leased under another false name.
