Chapter 2
I cleared the coat-check area first.
Guests moved deeper into the ballroom.
No panic.
No shouting.
Mafia houses survive longer when information moves slower than fear.
Nerelle stayed beside me.
I asked if she wanted to sit.
“No.”
Good.
Her choice.
Arthur remained near the counter under Rafe’s watch.
Rosamonde stood opposite us.
Her engagement ring flashed every time her hand shook.
“When did Merrick tell you Elias was dead?”
She looked at Nerelle.
Then me.
“July.”
One month after the disappearance.
“How?”
“He said there’d been an accident.”
“What accident?”
“A fall.”
“Where?”
“North ridge.”
Nerelle immediately shook her head.
“My brother knew that mountain.”
Rosamonde snapped:
“Experienced people fall too.”
True.
Irrelevant.
I asked:
“Why was your cousin discussing a seasonal driver with you?”
Silence.
There it was.
Nerelle looked at her.
Not fear now.
Recognition.
“You knew him.”
Rosamonde’s jaw tightened.
“I knew who he was.”
“Different answer,” I said.
She exhaled sharply.
Elias had driven Rosamonde several times during the summer.
Not for official events.
Private trips.
She claimed shopping.
Friends.
Meetings.
“What meetings?”
Her eyes moved away.
I waited.
She hated waiting.
Most liars do.
Finally:
“People who wanted introductions.”
“To whom?”
She looked at me.
Of course.
Before our engagement became public, Rosamonde had already been telling select people she could arrange private access to Anselm Wynthorne.
Not business decisions.
Not commands.
Just introductions.
That was how she described it.
I asked:
“What did they give you?”
“Gifts.”
Nerelle looked disgusted.
I did not.
Not yet.
“How expensive?”
Silence.
Enough.
Elias drove her.
Saw the envelopes.
He began asking questions.
Then stopped accepting the trips.
A week later he disappeared.
I turned toward Nerelle.
“Did he tell you any of this?”
She hesitated.
“He said he’d gotten mixed up with people who thought your name belonged to them.”
Interesting wording.
“When?”
“The night before he vanished.”
Rosamonde went pale.
That sentence meant something to her.
I looked at her.
“What happened the next day?”
She whispered:
“He confronted me.”
There.
May you like
The missing man had not simply known too much.
He had confronted my future wife directly before disappearing.
