Isobel and Delphi huddled together on Delphi’s bed, their ears close to her iPhone. It had required all of Delphi’s charm to convince Carlo to return it. He’d toyed with her for an excruciatingly long time before giving in with a warning that this was her last chance. It had required all of Isobel’s charm, plus an offer to pick up the grocery tab for the next month, to get Delphi to forgive her.
They strained to hear Lang and Balsam amid the restaurant’s ambient noise. Snippets of other people’s conversations intruded (the Crosbys were apparently contemplating a trial separation) and, invariably, as soon as Lang or Balsam started to say anything of interest, their voices dropped.
“Play that last part again,” Isobel ordered.
Delphi rewound a little, and they heard Bethany’s voice.
“I was told it’s for questioning.”
“I know Andrew,” Gordon said. “He can’t…” The rest was unintelligible.
Delphi pressed pause. “Well?”
Isobel frowned. “Not sure. But it doesn’t quite sound to me as though Gordon was about to defend Andrew against suspicion of murder.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the word ‘can’t’,” Isobel mused. “Don’t you think he’d have said ‘He couldn’t…kill someone’ or ‘He wouldn’t…hurt a fly’? Can’t is more like ‘He can’t get through the day without drugs.’ So I don’t think that’s what he was going to say.”
“You have no idea what he was going to say.” Delphi pressed play again.
“Would you like to see a dessert menu?” The waiter’s voice broke through, loud and clear.
“Glad we’ve captured all the important stuff,” Delphi muttered.
“Yes, please,” Gordon said.
There was a shuffling sound, and then Bethany said, “Aren’t you concerned?”
Isobel bent closer to the phone.
“About what?”
“Your safety.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Delphi paused the recording. “Weird that he had to ask what he should be concerned about.”
“Maybe he’s the killer, and he wanted to make sure Bethany didn’t suspect him,” Isobel suggested.
“More likely he’s such an egotist that he thinks nobody can touch him, so he can’t imagine why she would be asking.”
“See? This is why it’s good we’re doing this together,” said Isobel. “I always think my interpretation is the only possible one.”
Delphi pressed play, and the conversation continued.
“Have you been on the website lately?” Bethany asked.
“Cranks and complainers.”
“Willard started searching it obsessively after he got that letter.”
“And?”
“A few vague threats. But it’s all anonymous.”
“Those things usually are.”
“Someone should tell the police,” Bethany said.
“No. We can’t risk them finding out…” His voice dropped again.
Delphi paused the recording. “Finding out what? What website?”
But Isobel had already jumped off the bed and was opening her laptop. It wasn’t long before she found what they must have been talking about. She gestured to Delphi, and together they scanned the website’s home page.
The ESYC Report
This is a forum for those who were unfairly sentenced to time at Empire State Youth Camp at the hands of vindictive, venal, not-honorable Willard Harrison. There are many of us who were unjustly imprisoned and have had to work hard to erase the stigma of our incarceration, not to mention the emotional and physical abuse that robbed us temporarily of our identities and self-esteem. On the “Experiences” page you can write about what you went through. These entries are anonymous unless you choose to identify yourself. On the “Research” page we discuss our findings about the history and financing of the center, and on the “Donations” page, you can contribute to our efforts to shut the center down and prosecute the public and private officials who are lining their pockets with our misery. We’re sorry if you are one of the many who were unjustly sentenced, but you are not alone.
Isobel opened the “Experiences” page. It was a long chat forum with many threads. She clicked on the first one.
“I gave a cop the finger, and for that I was sentenced to three months in that hellhole. After I got out, I tried to kill myself twice. I’ve been in therapy since then and am taking courses at a community college. Before this happened, I was on the Dean’s List and was in line for a volleyball scholarship to college. One thoughtless gesture and my life was ruined.”
“Holy shit,” Delphi breathed.
“Listen to this one. ‘They’re going to pay for what they did to us. I promise,’” Isobel read. “Then after that, ‘Comment removed by moderator for inappropriate content.’”
“What are the chances that whoever wrote that made good on their threat?”
“Given the body count, I’d say pretty good.”
Isobel selected the “Research” page, but it was under construction. Apparently, their theories about financial involvement were still speculative. The “Donations” page had a PayPal link, but no further information. She went back to “Experiences” and scrolled down farther. They caught their breath at the same time when they saw the exchange.
“I heard the shithead sent his own kid there. That can’t be true. Nobody is that evil.”
“It is true.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Are you Harrison’s kid?”
“Could be.”
“You must hate him.”
“You have no idea.”
“That doesn’t really tell us anything we don’t already know,” Delphi pointed out. “And it could just be someone trolling.”
“I want to read more,” Isobel said, scrolling down.
“I want to go to bed. Let’s listen to the rest of the recording.”
Reluctantly, Isobel set her computer aside, and they returned to the phone. After a few seconds of incomprehensible chatter, Bethany’s voice rose above the hum.
“You could at least pretend to want to find out who did this.”
Lang’s response was muffled by the sound of the phone falling to the floor and Isobel’s voice moving closer, saying, “That’s where I left it!”
“Great,” Delphi said, exasperated. “We were finally getting somewhere.”
“Go back a sec. I heard something while the phone was falling.”
Delphi rewound a bit, and they listened again.
“There! Did you hear it? She said Maggie. Loud and clear.”
“Loud and clear? Um…no.” Delphi replayed it. “Okay, I hear ‘gie.’ I guess that could be part of Maggie, but it’s not exactly conclusive.”
“I heard Maggie,” Isobel insisted.
“Fine, but it doesn’t mean Bethany was saying she was responsible. Why should she have been? What connection does she have to any of this?”
“The murder mystery dinner was her idea.”
“But we know she didn’t pull the trigger, and besides, it was Candy who gave her the idea.” Delphi rolled over and yawned. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this, since Andrew has been arrested.”
Isobel lay sideways and propped her head on her elbow. “I was convinced it was him, but for some bizarre reason now that he’s been arrested, I’ve changed my mind.”
“I know the reason.” Delphi got up. “You don’t want this to be done and dusted without you.” She slammed the bathroom door behind her.
Was that really it? Isobel wondered. Was it that she didn’t want it to be over? She picked up the phone and absently pressed play.
She heard her own voice, blatting and tinny: “I could not for the life of me remember where I’d set it down.”
But in the brief moment between her final words and the end of the recording, Bethany’s voice came through distinctly.
“…you can’t. Maggie’s gone.”