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

“Ted,” Mayor Gordon said by way of greeting, “I see how stubborn you are.”

Tennenbaum didn’t understand at first. “I’m not sure I follow you, Mr Mayor. What’s going on?”

Gordon took a sheet of paper from his coat pocket. “I gave you the names of these companies, and you haven’t used any of them.”

“That’s right,” Tennenbaum said. “I asked for estimates and I chose the ones that gave me the best prices. What’s wrong with that?”

Mayor Gordon raised his voice. “Ted, stop splitting hairs. If you want to start your renovations, I advise you to contact these companies. They’re much more qualified than the ones you chose.”

“I chose perfectly competent local businesses. I’m free to do as I see fit, aren’t I?”

Mayor Gordon lost patience. “I won’t permit you to work with these businesses!”

“You won’t permit me?”

“No. I’ll block the work as long as I have to, by every means at my disposal.”

A few passers-by, intrigued by the raised voices, stopped to watch. Tennenbaum, who had moved closer to the mayor, shouted:

“What difference does it make to you, Gordon?”

“Mr Mayor, please,” Gordon said, placing a finger on his chest as if to emphasize his words.

Tennenbaum saw red and grabbed him roughly by the collar, then let go.

“Think you can frighten me, Tennenbaum?” Gordon said defiantly. “Try to behave with some decency instead of making a spectacle of yourself!”

Just then a police car drove up and Deputy Gulliver sprang out.

“Is everything O.K., Mr Mayor?” he said, his hand on his nightstick.

“Everything’s fine, Deputy. Thank you.”

* * *

“That’s the reason for their quarrel,” Sylvia said to Betsy. “The choice of companies for the construction work.”

“I believe you,” Betsy said.

Sylvia seemed surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, I know that Mayor Gordon was getting kickbacks from the businesses he awarded contracts to. I assume the construction work on Café Athenawould have accounted for relatively large sums and the mayor wanted his slice of the cake. What happened next?”

“Ted agreed. He knew the mayor would be able to block the work and make life very difficult for him. Things worked out and Café Athenawas able to open a week before the opening of the festival. Everything was going fine. Until Mayor Gordon was murdered. But my brother didn’t kill Mayor Gordon, I’m certain of that.”

“Sylvia, do the words ‘The Darkest Night’mean anything to you?”

“‘The Darkest Night’,” Sylvia said, taking time to think. “I’ve seen that somewhere.”

She spotted a copy of that day’s Chronicle that had been left on a nearby table and picked it up.

“In fact, here it is,” she said, reading the front page of the newspaper. “It’s the title of the play that’s being performed for the opening of the festival.”

“Were former police chief Hayward and your brother connected in any way?” Betsy asked.

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

“Because the words ‘The Darkest Night’were used in some strange graffiti that appeared around town in the year leading up to the first festival. The same words were found written in the ruins after the fire in February 1994. Were you aware of that?”

“No, I wasn’t. But don’t forget I only moved here later. At the time, I was living in Manhattan, I was married and I’d taken over my father’s business. When my brother died, I inherited Café Athenaand chose not to sell it. It had meant so much to him. I hired a manager. And then I divorced, and I decided to sell my father’s company. I wanted to start over. I moved here in 1998. So I missed all that part of the story, including the ‘Darkest Night’ graffiti. I had no idea about the connection with the fire, but on the other hand I do know who started the fire.”

“Who?” Betsy said, her heart suddenly pounding.

“I mentioned that Ted got into bad company in Ridgesport. There was a small-time crook named Jeremiah Fold, who extorted money, and who had some kind of quarrel with him. Jeremiah was a dubious character, a lousy guy. He’d sometimes show up at the Palace with a bunch of girls and his pockets bulging with banknotes. He’d drive up on a huge motorcycle, making a lot of noise. He was loud, vulgar, often stoned. He’d flash his money around, treat whole tables full of people to an orgy of eating and drinking, and throw hundred-dollar bills at the waiters. The owner of the hotel didn’t like it, but he didn’t dare stop Jeremiah from coming because he didn’t want trouble from him. One day, Ted, who was still working there, decided to step in. Out of loyalty to the owner, who had given him his chance. After Jeremiah had left the hotel, Ted set off after him in his car. He eventually forced him to stop at the side of the road. He told him he wasn’t welcome at the Palace anymore. But Jeremiah had a girl on the back of his bike. Probably to impress her he tried to punch Ted, and Ted smashed his face. Jeremiah was humiliated. Sometime later, he came to see Ted at home, with two of his toughs, and got them to beat him up. Then, when Jeremiah found out Ted was planning to open a restaurant, he came to him and demanded to be made a partner. He wanted a commission to let the work continue, then a percentage of the profits once the restaurant was open. He had sensed the potential.”

“And what did Ted do?”

“At first he refused. And one night in February, the building went up in smoke.”

“And that was this Fold’s doing?”

“Yes. On the night of the fire, Ted came to see me at three in the morning, and told me the whole story.”

* * *

Sylvia Tennenbaum’s apartment in Manhattan

Night of February 11, 1994

The telephone woke Sylvia. It was 2.45. It was the doorman. Her brother was downstairs. He was saying it was urgent.

She had him sent up and when