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

you didn’t know what had happened to Stephanie? Did no-one mention it at the Review? Surely that’s the kind of thing people talk about at the coffee machine?”

“Maybe,” Ostrovski said, his voice almost breaking. “But I didn’t know, because I was fired from the Review. Thrown out! Humiliated! Treated like a nobody! Overnight that scoundrel Bergdorf fires me, chases me out with my things in cardboard boxes, I’m not allowed back into the office, my phone calls go unanswered. Me, the great Ostrovski, treated as if I were nothing. Just imagine, officer, there was only one person in this country who still treated me with kindness, and that woman was Stephanie Mailer. Being on the verge of depression in New York, and unable to reach her, I decided to come see her in Orphea, thinking the mayor’s invitation was a blessed coincidence, maybe even a sign from fate. But once I got here and still couldn’t reach my friend, I decided to go to her apartment, and there a policeman informed me she had been murdered. Drowned in a muddy lake, it turns out, her body left to the insects, the worms, the birds, the leeches. That’s why I’m so upset and angry, officer.”

There was a moment’s silence. He blew his nose, wiped away a tear, and breathed deeply to regain his composure.

“I’m truly sorry for the death of your friend, Mr Ostrovski,” Betsy said.

“Thank you, officer, for sharing my grief.”

After her conversation with Ostrovski, Betsy went to Café Athena to have lunch. As she was about to sit down at a table, a voice hailed her:

“You look good in plain clothes, Betsy.”

Betsy turned. It was Sylvia Tennenbaum, who was smiling at her, apparently well disposed.

“I didn’t know about your brother,” Betsy said. “I didn’t know what had happened to him.”

“What difference does that make now?” Sylvia said. “Are you going to look at me any differently?”

“I meant, I’m sorry. It must have been terrible for you. I like you and I feel sorry for you. That’s all.”

Sylvia smiled sadly. “That’s kind of you. Will you allow me to join you for lunch, Betsy? It’s on me.”

They sat at a table in the outside dining area, some distance from the other customers.

“For a long time, I was the monster’s sister,” Sylvia said. “People here would have liked to see the back of me. They just wanted me to sell his restaurant and get out.”

“Tell me about your brother.”

“He was kind and generous, with a heart of gold. But too impulsive, too quarrelsome. That was his undoing. All his life, he spoiled things by being too quick with his fists. Even at school. As soon as there was a problem with another kid, he couldn’t avoid getting into a fight. He was forever getting expelled. Our father’s business was doing well, and he’d put us down for the best private schools in Manhattan, where we lived. My brother went through one school after another, and in the end had to have a tutor at home. Then he was accepted at Stanford. And he was expelled from there after a year because he got into a fight with a professor. A professor, can you imagine? When he got back to New York, he found a job. It lasted eight months, then he had a fight with one of his colleagues and was fired. We had a vacation home in Ridgesport, not very far from here, and my brother moved there. He found a job managing a restaurant. He really liked it, the restaurant was coming along well, but he got into bad company. After work, he’d hang around a disreputable bar. He was arrested for being drunk, for possessing marijuana. And then there was a really violent fight in a parking lot. Ted was sent to prison for six months. When he got out, he wanted to go back to the Hamptons, but not to Ridgesport. He said he wanted to draw a line under his past and start over again. That’s how he ended up in Orphea. Because he’d done time—even though it was a short sentence—he had a lot of trouble finding a job. Finally, the owner of the Lake Palace hired him as a bellboy. He was a model employee, he quickly climbed the ladder. He became concierge, then assistant manager. He played a part in local activities. He became a volunteer firefighter. Everything was going fine.”

Sylvia broke off. Betsy sensed she didn’t want to say more, but she urged her on.

“Ted had great business savvy,” Sylvia resumed. “In the hotel, he had noticed that many of the guests complained that they couldn’t find a really good restaurant in Orphea. That gave him the idea of starting his own. Our father had died in the meantime and left us a large bequest, and Ted was able to buy up a dilapidated building downtown, ideally located. He had the idea of renovating it and turning it into this place, Café Athena. Unfortunately, things soon degenerated.”

“You mean the fire?”

“You know about that?”

“Yes. I heard there was a lot of tension between your brother and Mayor Gordon, who refused to allow a change of use for the building. They say Ted set fire to it to be granted authorization to start work. But the tension with the mayor continued after that.”

“You know, Betsy, I heard all that. I can assure you that my brother did not set fire to the building. He was easily angered, yes. But he wasn’t some small-time crook. He was a smart man, a man who had values. It’s true that after the fire tension persisted between my brother and Mayor Gordon. I know they were seen by quite a few people having a violent dispute in the street. But if I tell you the real reason for the bad blood between them, I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

* * *

Main Street, Orphea

February 21, 1994, two weeks after the fire

When Tennenbaum arrived at the site of the