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

PART ONE

In the Depths

-7

The Disappearance of a Reporter

MONDAY, JUNE 23 – TUESDAY, JULY 1, 2014

JESSE ROSENBERG

Monday, June 23, 2014

Thirty-three days to opening night of the 21st Orphea Theater Festival

The first and only time I saw Stephanie Mailer was when she gatecrashed the small reception organized in honor of my retirement from the New York State Police.

A host of police officers from all the squads had gathered in the noonday sun in front of the wooden platform erected for special occasions in the parking lot of troop headquarters. I was on that platform, next to my commander, Major McKenna. He had been my chief throughout my career and was now paying me a glowing tribute.

“Jesse Rosenberg is only a young captain, but he’s clearly in a great hurry to leave,” the major said to laughter from those present. “I would never have imagined he’d leave before me. Life really is a bummer. You’d all like me to leave, but I’m still here. You’d all like to keep Jesse, and Jesse’s going.”

I was forty-five years old and I felt good about leaving the force. After twenty-three years on the job, I had decided to take the pension to which I was by now entitled in order to realize a project that had been close to my heart for a long time. I still had a week to go before my leaving date of June 30. After that, a new chapter in my life would be starting.

“I still remember Jesse’s first big case,” the major was saying. “A horrible case, a quadruple murder, which he solved brilliantly, even though nobody in the squad thought he could. He was still a very young officer. From that moment on, we all realized what kind of man Jesse was. Anyone who’s worked with him knows what an exceptional detective he is. I think I can safely say he was always the best among us. We call him Captain 100 Percent, because he’s solved all the cases he’s been involved in, and that makes him unique as a detective. An officer admired by his colleagues, an expert everyone consults, and an instructor at the Academy for many years. Let me say this to you, Jesse: for twenty years, we’ve all been jealous of you!”

Another burst of laughter.

“We haven’t quite figured out what this new project is that you’re getting into, but we wish you good luck anyway. We’re going to miss you, the police force is going to miss you, but it’s our wives who are going to miss you the most, because they spent every police dance ogling you.”

Thunderous applause. The major gave me a friendly hug, and then I got down off the stage so that I could say something to all those who had done me the kindness of being present before they rushed to the buffet.

Finding myself alone for a moment, I was approached by a very attractive woman, maybe in her thirties. I did not recall having seen her before.

“So you are the famous Captain 100 Percent?” she said in a seductive tone.

“Apparently,” I said with a smile. “Do we know each other?”

“No. My name’s Stephanie Mailer. I’m a reporter for the Orphea Chronicle.”

We shook hands.

“Do you mind if I call you Captain 99 Percent?”

I frowned. “Is there a case I didn’t solve?”

By way of reply, she took from her bag a photocopy of a press clipping from the Orphea Chronicle of August 1, 1994, and handed it to me.

QUADRUPLE MURDER IN ORPHEA

MAYOR AND FAMILY SLAIN

On Saturday evening, the mayor of Orphea, Joseph Gordon, his wife Leslie, and their ten-year-old son Arthur were shot dead in their house. The fourth victim is Meghan Padalin, 32. The young woman, who was jogging at the time, must have been unfortunate enough to witness the scene. She was shot on the sidewalk close to the mayor’s house.

There was a photograph of me and my then partner, Derek Scott, at the crime scene.

“What is this about?” I said.

“You didn’t solve that case, Captain. You got the wrong man back in 1994. I thought you’d like to know that before leaving the force.”

At first I thought that one of my colleagues was playing a practical joke on me, but soon I realized that the journalist was entirely serious.

“Are you conducting your own investigation?” I said.

“In a way, Captain.”

“In a way? You’re going to have to say more than that if you want me to believe you.”

“I’m telling the truth, Captain. I have an appointment shortly that should allow me to obtain irrefutable evidence.”

“An appointment with whom?”

“Captain,” she said in an amused tone, “I’m not a beginner. This is the kind of scoop a reporter can’t afford to pass up, but I promise you that whatever I find out I’ll share with you when the time is right. Meanwhile, I have a favor to ask you. I’d like access to the State Police file on the case.”

“You call it a favor, I call it blackmail,” I said. “Start by showing me what you have. These are very serious allegations.”

“I’m aware of that, Captain Rosenberg. That’s why I don’t want the State Police to get in ahead of me.”

“Let me remind you that you have a duty to share with the police any information in your possession that has a bearing on this case. That’s the law. I could also come to your newspaper office and search it.”

The woman seemed disappointed. “Too bad, Captain 99 Percent,” she said. “I assumed it would interest you, but I guess you’re already thinking about your retirement and this new project the major mentioned in his speech. What is it? Repairing an old boat?”

“That’s none of your business,” I said curtly.

She shrugged and made to leave. I felt certain she was bluffing. But she stopped after a few steps and turned back. “The answer was right in front of your eyes, Captain Rosenberg. You just didn’t see it.”

I was both intrigued and irritated. “I’m not