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

review of this shockingly bad novel. He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and, a moment later Steven Bergdorf, the editor of the Review,entered his office. Ostrovski reached out to remove a file from a chair so Bergdorf could sit, but the other shook his head.

“Not to worry, Meta,” he said. “I won’t keep you long, but . . .” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “But I’m afraid I have some unwelcome news. The Review is only too conscious of the debt we owe you, the renown you bring to it, the readers who are devoted to you, but the fact is that our level of subscribers is not rising, our finances are in a perilous state, and I have been instructed by our owners to reduce costs. Believe me, I do this with great professional and personal regret, but I have no option but to bring our relationship with you to an end.”

Ostrovski stared open-mouthed at Bergdorf. He stifled the sob that was rising in his throat.

“Very well, Steven,” he said, with all the dignity he could muster. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person. I assume you will be able to have my books and files sent to my apartment?”

Bergdorf nodded. “Of course, Meta. Of course. I am so very sorry,” he said, before backing out and closing the door very softly behind him.

* * *

Orphea was in a restless state. What with the discovery of Stephanie Mailer’s body and the announcement by the mayor that the fireworks display was being canceled, the town was in turmoil. While Derek and I pursued our inquiries on the shores of Stag Lake, Betsy was called to the town hall as backup. Outside the building, a group of demonstrators, all local storekeepers and traders, had gathered, waving placards, to demand that the firework display go ahead.

“If there’s no firework display on Friday night, I might as well close down,” protested a bald little man who ran a Mexican food stand. “It’s my biggest night of the season.”

“I spent a lot of money renting a spot at the marina and hiring staff,” another said. “Will the council reimburse me if the fireworks are canceled?”

“What happened to the Mailer girl is terrible, but why should that affect the Fourth of July? Thousands of people come to the marina to see the fireworks. They get there early, they go shopping on Main Street, then eat in the town’s restaurants. If it doesn’t go ahead, people won’t come at all!”

The demonstration was peaceful. Betsy decided to see Mayor Brown in his office on the third floor. She found him standing looking out of the window. He waved to her, still looking out at the demonstrators.

“The joys of politics, Betsy,” he said. “With this murder shaking the town, if I let the celebrations go ahead I’m heartless, and if I cancel them, I’m reckless and driving everyone to ruin.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“People here really like you, Alan,” Betsy said.

“Unfortunately, there’s a good chance I won’t be re-elected in September. Orphea isn’t the town it used to be and the inhabitants are demanding change. I need a coffee. You want a coffee?”

“I’d love one,” she said. She thought the mayor was going to ask his assistant to bring them two coffees, but he drew her out into the corridor, at the end of which stood a hot drinks dispenser. He put a coin in the machine and a blackish liquid ran down into a paper cup.

Brown was a fine figure of a man, with deep eyes and an actor’s good looks. He was always dressed to the nines, and his salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably groomed. When the first coffee was ready, he handed it to Betsy, then repeated the operation.

“And if you aren’t re-elected,” Betsy said after taking a sip of the awful coffee, “would that be so terrible?”

“Betsy, you know what I liked most about you the first time I saw you at the marina last summer?”

“No . . .”

“We share strong ideals, similar ambitions for our society. You could have made a terrific career for yourself in the N.Y.P.D. I could long ago have yielded to the siren call of politics and stood for the Senate or the House. But when it comes down to it, that’s not what we’re interested in, because what we can achieve here in Orphea we’d never be able to achieve in New York, Washington, or L.A., in other words, the idea of a fair town, a society that works, without too many inequalities. When Mayor Gordon asked me to become his deputy, in 1992, there was a lot that needed doing. This town was like a blank page. I’ve been able to mold it more or less to my beliefs, always trying to think of what was right, what was the best for the good of our community. Since I’ve been mayor, people’s standard of living has improved, they’ve seen their daily lives get better thanks to top-quality services, better social services, and all that without any tax hikes.”

“So why do you think the citizens of Orphea won’t re-elect you this year?”

“Because time has passed and they’ve forgotten. Almost a whole generation has been and gone since my first term. Today, people’s demands have changed because they take everything for granted. Now that Orphea is prosperous, people’s appetites are keener, and there’s a whole bunch of ambitious young people greedy for a little power who can easily see themselves as mayor. The next election may mark the end of this town. My successor’s selfish hunger for power could well ruin it.”

“Your successor? Who will that be?”

“I have no idea yet. He’ll come out of the woodwork, you’ll see. People have until the end of the month to announce their candidacy.”

Mayor Brown had an impressive ability to get back in the saddle. Betsy realized that when the two of them went to see Stephanie’s parents in Sag Harbor late that afternoon.

Outside the Mailers’ house, protected by