The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist Joël Dicker (booksvooks TXT) 📖

“Well, at least do me the kindness of firing off a couple of rounds at the range before walking around with that thing on your belt. Gentlemen, tie this thing up quickly and tie it up well. I really don’t want the sky to come crashing down on our heads.”

* * *

While Derek and I were at headquarters, Betsy did not waste her time. She had gotten it into her head to track down Kirk Hayward, but this would prove more difficult than she had imagined. She spent hours without any success searching for traces of the former chief. He had dropped clean out of circulation. He had, apparently, neither an address nor a telephone number. Lacking sources, she turned to the one person she could trust in Orphea: her neighbor Cody Springfield. She went to see him in his bookstore, which was right next door to the offices of the Chronicle.

“There’s not a soul about today,” Springfield said wearily on seeing her.

Betsy realized he had hoped she was a customer when he heard the door open.

“I hope the fireworks on the Fourth of July will attract a few people,” he went on. “This has been a lousy June.”

Betsy took a novel from one of the displays. “Any good?”

“Not bad.”

“I’ll buy it.”

“Betsy, you’re not obliged to do that.”

“I’ve run out of things to read. It’s perfect timing.”

“But I don’t suppose that’s what you came in here for.”

“I didn’t come here only for that,” she said with a smile, handing him a fifty-dollar bill. “What can you tell me about those murders back in 1994?”

He frowned. “Nobody’s mentioned that in a long time. What do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious to know what the atmosphere was like in the town at the time.”

“It was terrible,” Springfield said. “Obviously, people were shocked. Can you imagine? A whole family wiped out, including the young boy. And Meghan, who was the sweetest girl you could imagine. Everyone here loved her.”

“Did you know her well?”

“Did I know her well? She worked right here. The store was doing really well in those days, and a lot of it was down to her. She was young, pretty, passionate, delightful, brilliant. People came from the whole of Long Island just for her. How unfair it was! To me, it was a terrible shock. For a while, I even thought about dropping everything and getting out. But where would I have gone? All my ties are here. You know, Betsy, the worst of it is that everyone assumed from the start that the reason Meghan died was that she had recognized the Gordons’ killer. That meant it was one of us. Someone we knew. Someone we saw at the supermarket, on the beach, even here in the bookstore. And unfortunately, we discovered we were right when the killer was identified.”

“Who was it?”

“Ted Tennenbaum, a pleasant, friendly guy from a good family. A model citizen. Restaurant owner by trade. Member of the volunteer fire service. He’d contributed toward organizing the first festival.” Springfield sighed. “I don’t like talking about all this, Betsy, it gets me too stirred up.”

“I’m sorry, Cody. One last question. Does the name Kirk Hayward mean anything to you?”

“Sure, he used to be police chief. Before Gulliver.”

“And what happened to him? I’m trying to discover his whereabouts.”

Cody stared at her curiously. “He vanished into thin air,” he said, handing over her change and slipping the book into a paper bag. “Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of him since.”

“What happened?”

“Nobody knows. He vanished one fine day in the fall of 1994.”

“You mean the same year as the murders?”

“Yes, three months later. That’s why I remember it. It was a weird summer. Most people here would rather forget all about it.”

As she spoke, he picked up his keys and stuffed his cell phone, which had been on the counter, into his pocket.

“Are you leaving?” Betsy said.

“Yes, I’m going to take advantage of the fact that there’s nobody here to drop by the theater and work a little with the other volunteers. As a matter of fact, we haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“I know. I’ve been a bit snowed under lately. Can I give you a ride? As it happens, I’ve been planning to go to the theater to talk to the volunteers about Stephanie.”

Orphea’s Grand Theater was next to Café Athena, at the top of Main Street, almost opposite the entrance to the marina.

As in all quiet towns, there was not much surveillance of the public buildings. Betsy and Cody had only to push open the front door to get into the theater. They crossed the lobby to the auditorium, went in, and walked down the central aisle between the rows of red velvet seats.

“Imagine this place in a month, filled with people,” Springfield said proudly. “All that thanks to the work of the volunteers.”

He climbed the steps leading up to the stage and Betsy followed him. They went behind the curtains into the backstage area. They opened a door to where the volunteers worked. It was a hive of activity. There were people everywhere, some running the box office, others the logistical aspects. In one room, they were preparing to stick up posters and were proofreading programs which would soon be sent back to the printers. In the workshop, a team was putting together the framework for a set.

Betsy took the time to talk to each one of the volunteers. Many had abandoned the Grand Theater the day before to take part in the search operations for Stephanie and they came spontaneously to ask if the investigation was making any progress.

“Not as much as I would have liked,” she told them. “But I know she came to the Grand Theater a lot. I even met her here a few times.”

“Yes,” said a short man who was in charge of the box office, “it was for her articles about the volunteers. Didn’t she ask you any questions, Betsy?”

“No,” Betsy said. It had not even occurred