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

and threw it onto the back seat. She had absolutely no desire to go back to Café Athena. She drove home and sat on the porch with a drink and a cigarette to savor the mild evening weather.

BETSY KANNER

I arrived in Orphea on September 14, 2013, a Saturday.

It was only two hours from New York City, but it could have been on the other side of the world. I had moved from the skyscraper city of Manhattan to this quiet little town, bathed in soft, late-afternoon sunlight. I drove up Main Street and then through my new neighborhood to the house I had rented. I was driving slowly, looking at the people out strolling, the children crowding around an ice cream truck, the conscientious residents tending to their flower beds. Everything was calm and peaceful.

At last I came to the house. A new life was opening up in front of me. The only vestiges of my former existence were my furniture, which I had had brought from New York. I unlocked the front door, went inside, and switched on the light in the hall. To my surprise, I discovered that the floor was cluttered with my cardboard boxes. I quickly looked through the first floor. The furniture was all wrapped, nothing had been put together, my things were all in boxes piled up randomly around the rooms.

I immediately called the moving firm. The person who answered said, “I think you’ve made a mistake, Mrs Kanner. I have your file in front of me and you evidently ticked the wrong boxes. The service you signed for didn’t include unpacking.” She hung up.

I walked outside to get away from the mess and sat on the steps of the porch. I was angry. A figure appeared with a bottle of beer in each hand. It was my neighbor, Cody Springfield. I had met him twice before, once when I viewed the house, and again when I had signed the lease and came to prepare my move.

“I wanted to welcome you, Betsy.”

“That’s very kind,” I said, making a face.

“You don’t seem in a very good mood.”

I shrugged. He handed me a beer and sat down next to me. I told him about my misadventure with the removers and he offered to help me unpack. Within a few minutes, we were carrying my bed up to what was going to be my bedroom.

“What should I do to fit in here?” I said.

“There’s no need to worry on that score, Betsy. People will like you. You can always volunteer to help with the theater festival next summer. That’s an event that always brings people together.”

Cody was the first person I connected with in Orphea. He ran a wonderful bookstore on Main Street, which would soon become a kind of second home to me.

That evening, after Cody had left and I was still unpacking boxes of clothes, I had a call from my ex-husband.

“Are you kidding me?” he said when I picked up. “You left the city without saying goodbye to me.”

“I said goodbye to you a long time ago, Mark.”

“Ouch, that hurts!”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to talk to you, Betsy.”

“Mark, I have no desire to ‘talk’. We’re not getting back together. It’s over.”

He ignored me. “I had dinner with your father this evening. It was great.”

“Just leave my father alone, O.K.?”

“Is it my fault he loves me?”

“Why are you doing this to me, Mark? Is it revenge?”

“Are you in a bad mood, Betsy?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am in a bad mood! I have furniture still needing to be assembled and I don’t know how, which means I have better things to do than listen to you!”

I regretted saying this, because he immediately offered to come to my rescue.

“You need help? I’ll get in my car and I’ll be right there!”

“No, don’t do that!”

“I can be there in two hours. We’ll spend the night putting your furniture together and setting the world to rights. It’ll be like the good old days.”

“Mark, I forbid you to come.”

I hung up and switched off my cell phone. The next morning, I had a nasty surprise. Mark had arrived.

“What are you doing here?”

He gave me a broad smile. “What a warm welcome! I’m here to help you.”

“Who gave you my address?”

“Your mother.”

“I don’t believe it. I’ll kill her!”

“Betsy, she’s dying to see us back together. She wants grandchildren!”

“Goodbye, Mark.”

He pushed against the door as I was shutting it. “Wait, Betsy. At least let me help you.”

I was too much in need of a helping hand to refuse. And anyhow, he was already here. He put on his Mr Perfect act, carrying furniture, hanging pictures, installing a chandelier.

Between drilling holes, he said, “Are you planning to live here all alone?”

“Yes. This is where my new life starts.”

*

The following Monday was my first day at the station. At eight in the morning I presented myself at the desk, in plain clothes.

“Are you here to make a complaint?” the officer asked me, without looking up from his newspaper.

“No,” I said. “I’m your new colleague.”

He looked up, gave me a friendly smile, and called out, “Hey, guys, the girl’s here!”

A whole squad of officers appeared, gawping at me as if I was some kind of strange animal. Chief Gulliver came forward and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Betsy.”

I was warmly welcomed. I greeted my new colleagues in turn. I was offered a coffee and asked lots of questions. Someone cried out cheerfully, “Guys, I’m going to start believing in Father Christmas. A shriveled old cop retires and we get a hot young babe as a replacement!” They all burst out laughing.

But the good-natured atmosphere was not to last.

JESSE ROSENBERG

Friday, June 27, 2014

Twenty-nine days to opening night

Early that morning I left for Orphea.

I absolutely had to figure out what had happened in Stephanie’s apartment. As far as Chief Gulliver was concerned, it was a simple burglary, but I didn’t believe that for a moment. My forensics colleagues had