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

night. A woman has been murdered and Hayward wants us to wait two weeks! That’s totally unsatisfactory in my view. Now that he’s here, I think we should take him in for questioning.”

Brown got to his feet, color rising to his cheeks. “Rosenberg. This man is all that’s standing between us and canceling the festival. Don’t you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt? That this town deserves it? We need him. Without a play we’re sunk. All I’m asking is that you back off for two weeks. And, please . . . Be civil to Hayward.”

Just then, over the intercom, Brown’s secretary announced Kirk Hayward’s arrival.

“Starting now, Rosenberg,” Brown said, straightening his tie.

The office door opened and Hayward appeared.

“Chief Hayward,” Brown said, shaking his hand. “Glad to see you back. You look well. I’m looking forward to hearing more about this play you’re putting on for us.” He gestured toward Betsy, Derek and me. “You know Captain Rosenberg, of course. And you may remember Sergeant Scott. But perhaps you haven’t yet been introduced to Betsy Kanner, Deputy Police Chief here in Orphea.”

“We spoke on the telephone,” Betsy said, offering Hayward her hand.

“They were just leaving, as it happens,” Brown said, shooting me a stern glance.

Moments later, Meta Ostrovski arrived at the mayor’s office door. Entering the room, he looked Hayward up and down for a moment before introducing himself.

“Meta Ostrovski, the most famous and most feared critic in the country,” Hayward said with a smile. “The play I’m putting on is going to have ramifications well beyond the festival, and, of course, I have every hope that it will please as distinguished a critic as you are, sir.”

“Only a critic can decide what’s good and what’s bad. And my judgment will be unsparing!”

“Mr Ostrovski, you are going to say the play is terrific!” Mayor Brown advanced upon them. “We made a deal, and I require you to abide by it . . .”

Ostrovski scowled, but after a moment’s pause murmured his assent.

Brown turned to Hayward. “Where’s the cast?”

“I don’t have one yet,” Hayward said.

“What do you mean, you don’t have a cast?”

“I’m going to cast the play here, in Orphea.”

Brown opened his eyes wide in astonishment. “What do you mean, you’re going to cast it here? The first night is in two weeks’ time!”

“Don’t worry, Alan. I’ll prepare everything over the weekend. Auditions on Monday, first rehearsal on Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Brown said in a choked voice. “But that’ll leave you only nine days to rehearse a play that’s going to be the centerpiece of the festival!”

“That’s more than enough time. I’ve been thinking about the play for twenty years. Trust me: this play will cause such a stir, they’ll be talking about your festival all over the country.”

At that moment, one of the mayor’s staff opened the inner door. “Mr Mayor, the press are all here and they’re getting impatient.”

Brown sighed. There was no way he could back down now. He had no alternative but to give Hayward all the support he could.

* * *

Bergdorf entered the town hall, announced himself at the reception desk, and asked directions to the press room. He had just arrived in Orphea. He had last been back for the festival the year before, when he had been inspired to write a rave article for the Review, titled “The Smallest of the Great Festivals”, in which he urged readers to visit the town. No surprise then that he had been put on the council’s mailing list. Yesterday he had been sent a reminder about the press conference that would be held the following day at eleven o’clock at the town hall, in the course of which the mayor was going to “reveal the exceptional play which would be performed as a world premiere for the opening of the theater festival.”

A municipal employee showed him the way, leading him to a room in which journalists were listening attentively as Mayor Brown finished his introduction:

“. . . and that’s why I’m very pleased to announce that ‘The Darkest Night’, a brand-new creation by director Kirk Hayward, will be performed as a world premiere at our festival.”

He was sitting at a long table, facing the auditorium. Bergdorf noticed, much to his astonishment, that Meta Ostrovski was on the mayor’s left, and that on his right sat Kirk Hayward, who, the last time he had seen him, had been the town’s chief of police. It was now Hayward’s turn to speak.

“I’ve been working on ‘The Darkest Night’ on and off for many years alongside my Hollywood commitments, and I’m very proud that the public will at last get a chance to discover this gem, which is already arousing enormous enthusiasm among the country’s most important critics, including the legendary Meta Ostrovski, who’s right here and will be able to tell you how highly he rates this play.”

Thinking about his vacation in the Lake Palace—paid for by the taxpayers of Orphea—Ostrovski smiled and nodded at the crowd of photographers snapping him.

“A great play, my friends, a very great play,” he assured them. “A play of uncommon quality. You know that I don’t hand out compliments lightly. But this is really something! A triumph of world theater!”

Bergdorf wondered what the hell Ostrovski was doing here.

Hayward, galvanized by the warm welcome he was getting, now resumed: “What makes this production so remarkable is that the play is going to be performed by a cast from the local population. I’ve always wanted to give a chance to the inhabitants of Orphea.”

“An amateur cast and an unknown director!” Michael Bird raised his voice. “Mayor Brown is knocking it out the park!”

There was laughter, and a murmur ran around the room. Mayor Brown, determined to salvage what he could, declared:

“Kirk Hayward has come here, interrupting his work in L.A., to bring us a class act.”

“What makes this play exceptional,” Hayward said, “is that it’s going to be the opportunity for some amazing revelations! There are things still to be said about the murders that took