The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist by Joël Dicker (ebook reader play store .txt) 📕

little streets, its movie house, its bookstore. Orphea seemed to me the place I had dreamed about, the place where I could change my life.

One morning, when I was sitting on a bench in the marina, gazing out at the ocean, I seemed to glimpse in the distance the breath of a whale that had risen to the surface. I felt the need to share this moment with someone. The witness I chose was a passing jogger.

“What’s happening?” he said.

“A whale, there’s a whale over there!”

He was a good-looking man in his fifties. “We often see them,” he said, amused by my excitement.

“It’s my first time here,” I said.

“Where have you come from?”

“Manhattan.”

“That’s not very far.”

“So near and yet so far,” I said.

He smiled and we chatted for a while. His name was Alan Brown and he was the town’s mayor. I told him briefly about the personal difficulties I was going through and how I hoped for a new start.

“Betsy,” he said, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what I’m going to say. I’m a married man and I’m not trying to hit on you. But would you come to dinner at our house tonight? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

That’s how it came about that I had dinner that night with Mayor Brown and his wife Charlotte. They were a lovely couple. She must have been a little younger than he was. She was a vet and had opened a small local clinic that was doing well. They didn’t have children and I didn’t ask any questions about that.

The mayor did not reveal the reason he had invited me until we got to the dessert course.

“Betsy, my chief of police is likely to retire in a year’s time. His deputy is not the replacement I am really looking for. I have ambitions for this town and I’d like someone I can trust in that job. I have a feeling you’re the ideal candidate.”

As I was taking a moment to think, he added:

“I must warn you it’s a quiet town. It isn’t the city . . .”

“All the better,” I said. “I need the quiet.”

The next day, I accepted Mayor Brown’s offer. And that’s why, one day in September 2013, I moved to Orphea. In the hope of starting over. And above all of finding myself again.

JESSE ROSENBERG

Monday, July 28, 2014

Two days after opening night

Thirty-six hours after the opening night fiasco, with the Orphea theater festival long canceled, there was still an air of panic in the town. The national media had had a field day, accusing the police of failing to protect the public. Coming so soon after the murders of Stephanie Mailer and Cody Springfield, the shooting at the Grand Theater was one horror too many. A killer was on the loose in the Hamptons. Throughout the region hotels emptied and bookings were canceled as vacationers shelved their plans.

The governor of New York State was furious and made his displeasure known. Mayor Brown was abandoned by the community, and Major McKenna and the assistant D.A. were hauled over the coals by their superiors. In response to criticism, they decided to hold a press conference in the town hall that morning. In my opinion, it was the worst thing they could have done. We had no answers to give the media for the time being, so why further expose ourselves?

Up until the last minute, in the corridors of the town hall, Derek, Betsy and I tried to persuade them to give up on making any public statements at this stage, but it was to no avail.

“The problem is that right now you have nothing to tell the media,” I said.

“That’s because you haven’t been able to find anything!” the assistant D.A. roared. “You haven’t found anything since you started this investigation!”

“We need more time.”

“You have had more than enough time! All I see is a catastrophe, two murders, one attempted murder, a community frightened out of its wits. You’re a bunch of incompetents, that’s what I’m going to tell the media!”

I turned to Major McKenna, hoping for his support.

“Sir, I don’t think you can lay the whole responsibility on our shoulders,” I said. “The security of the theater and the town was down to you and Deputy Montagne.”

At this clumsy remark of mine, the major saw red. “Don’t be insolent, Jesse. Not with me. I’ve been covering your ass since the start of this investigation. The governor called me last night, and my ears are still ringing! He wants a press conference, he’ll get one.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re sorry, Jesse. Derek and you opened this Pandora’s box, you’re going to have to figure out a way to close it.”

“Would you rather we’d covered everything up?”

The major sighed. “I don’t think you realize the firestorm you’ve started by reopening this case. Right now the whole country is talking about it. Heads will roll, Jesse, and mine isn’t going to be one of them! Why didn’t you retire the way you’d planned, huh? You had all the professional honors you could have wanted, why didn’t you go off and live your life in well-earned peace?”

“Because I’m a real police officer, sir.”

“Or a real idiot, Jesse. I’m giving the two of you till the end of the week to wrap this thing up. If by Monday morning I don’t have the killer sitting in my office, I’ll get you thrown off the force without a pension. You too, Derek. Now go do your work and let us do ours. The reporters are waiting for us.”

The major and the assistant D.A. headed for the press conference. Before he hurried after them, Mayor Brown turned to Betsy.

“I’d rather you learned it here, Betsy. I’m going to announce the official appointment of Jasper Montagne as Orphea’s new chief of police.”

Betsy turned pale. “What?” she said, choking. “You said he’d only be acting chief until I finished the investigation.”

“With all the agitation here