The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist, Joël Dicker [general ebook reader .txt] 📗

store selling household appliances in the mall in Coram, where we met with her. She had been waiting for us so she could take her break. We went to a nearby coffee shop.

“Do you mind if I have a sandwich?” she said. “Otherwise I won’t have time for lunch.”

“Go ahead,” Betsy said.

Felicity ordered her sandwich from the waiter. My impression was that she was sad and tired.

“You said you wanted to talk about Meghan?”

“Yes,” Betsy said. “As you may have heard, we have had to reopen the investigation into her murder and those of the Gordon family. Meghan was a friend of yours, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. We met at the tennis club and hit it off. She was younger than me, by about ten years. But we had the same level in tennis. I wouldn’t say we were very close, but from taking a drink together after matches, we got to know each other quite well.”

“How would you describe her?”

“She was a romantic. A bit dreamy, a bit naive. Starry-eyed.”

“Have you been living in Coram for long?”

“I came here with the kids just after my husband died. He died on November 16, 1993, his birthday.”

“Did you see Meghan between the time you moved here and the time she died?”

“Yes, she’d come regularly to Coram, to say hello. She’d bring me cooked dishes, sometimes a good book. To tell the truth, I never asked her for anything. She kind of imposed herself, but she meant well.”

“Was Meghan a happy woman?”

“Yes, she had everything going for her. Men liked her. Well, everyone swooned over her. Gossips will tell you it was thanks to her that the bookstore in Orphea did so well in those days.”

“So she often cheated on her husband?”

“That’s not what I said at all. She wasn’t the kind of person to have affairs.”

“Why not?”

Felicity Daniels frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe because she wasn’t brave enough. She wasn’t the kind of person to live dangerously.”

“And yet, according to her diary,” Betsy said, “Meghan had a relationship with a man in the last months of her life.”

“Really?” Felicity said in surprise.

“Yes, a man she met on December 31 at the Northern Rose Hotel in Bridgehampton. Meghan mentions meeting him regularly until the beginning of June 1994. After that, nothing. Did she ever talk to you about him?”

“No, never. Who was he?”

“I don’t know,” Betsy replied. “I was hoping you could tell me. Did Meghan ever mention feeling threatened?”

“Threatened? No way! You know, there must be people around who knew her better than I did. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“Because according to Meghan’s diary, in February 1994, you confided to her something about the mayor of Orphea, Joseph Gordon, which seemed to have really upset her.”

“Oh, my God!” Felicity Daniels said, placing a hand over her mouth.

“What was it about?” Betsy said.

“About my husband Luke,” Felicity said in a thin voice. “I should never have said anything to Meghan.”

“What happened to your husband?”

“Luke was up to his neck in debt. He had an air conditioning business that went bankrupt. He had to dismiss all his workers. There was nothing he could do. For months, he hadn’t told anyone. I only found out just before he died. After he died, I had to sell the house to pay off the debts. I left Orphea with the children and found this job as a sales assistant.”

“Mrs Daniels, how did your husband die?”

“He committed suicide. He hanged himself in our room on the evening of his birthday.”

* * *

February 3, 1994

It was early evening in the furnished apartment Felicity Daniels rented in Coram. Meghan had dropped by late in the afternoon to bring her a dish of lasagna and had found her in despair. The children were quarreling, refusing to do their homework, the living room was a mess, and Felicity was slumped on the couch, crying, no longer able to summon the strength to take the situation in hand.

Meghan intervened. She brought the children to order, helped them finish their homework, then sent them to shower, gave them their dinner, and put them to bed. Then she opened the bottle of wine she had brought with her and poured Felicity a large glass.

Felicity had nobody to confide in and she opened up to Meghan.

“I can’t take it anymore, Meg. If only you knew what people are saying about Luke. The coward who hanged himself in his bedroom on his birthday while his wife and children were getting ready to celebrate it downstairs. I see how the other kids’ parents look at me. I can’t stand that mixture of judgment and condescension.”

“I’m so sorry,” Meghan said.

Felicity shrugged. She poured herself more wine. With the help of the drink, after a silence filled with sadness, she finally said:

“Luke was always too honest. Look where it got him.”

“What do you mean?” Meghan said.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no, Felicity. You’ve started now, you’ll have to finish.”

“Meghan, if I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”

“Of course. You know you can trust me.”

“Luke’s business had been doing well in the last few years. Everything was fine with us, until the day Mayor Gordon asked to see him in his office. It was just before the start of the refurbishing work on the muni-cipal buildings. Gordon told Luke he’d give him the contract for all the ventilation systems in return for a financial contribution.”

“You mean a bribe?”

“Yes. And Luke refused. He said the accounts department would notice, and he might lose everything. Gordon threatened to destroy him. He told him the practice was common all over town. But Luke wouldn’t give in. So he didn’t get the municipal contracts. Or the ones after that. And to punish him for resisting, Mayor Gordon broke him. He did everything he could to make things difficult for him, bad-mouthed him, put people off working with him. Soon Luke lost all his customers. But he never said anything to me, he didn’t want to worry me. I only found