27

Ren grabbed her phone. She called Matt.

He answered. ‘Ren Bryce Tailored Trauma Services... how may I direct your call?’

‘I need to speak with your manager.’

‘Ooh... management level,’ said Matt. ‘I’m afraid you’re stuck with the lowly, unpaid intern. What’s up?’

‘I had a fight with Ben.’

‘About?’

‘Stupid things. I was questioning someone lying, Ben was saying I was a liar too... because of my undercover work.’

‘Well... um... that’s a fact,’ said Matt. ‘You both lie as part of your jobs...’

‘I know...’ I know. I know. ‘But he was being a total asshole.’

‘Pause and reflect,’ said Matt. ‘Was he... really being an asshole? I am not saying you are to blame for all arguments. I am simply prompting you to ponder this.’

Grrr. ‘I may have gotten a little... fired up.’

‘Was there liquor on your breath?’ said Matt.

Grrr. ‘Maybe.’

‘And what happened?’ said Matt.

‘He grabbed his jacket and walked out,’ said Ren.

Matt laughed. ‘Did he fling it over his shoulder, catalog-style?’

‘OK, why are you laughing?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I definitely want to know now,’ said Ren.

‘Well, he walked out on a fight with you while you are... you know... on medication. What would he have done if he was in a fight with the unmedicated you? Ha...’

‘Thanks,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘Pleasure.’

‘And how can you be so sure I am taking my meds?’ said Ren.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Matt. ‘Some day you will acknowledge the flaming red flags of your lunacy. And the gentle ripple of the white flags of sanity.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Ren, ‘lunacy is in the eye of the beholder.’

‘You say beholder, I say “endlessly tolerant brother”.’

Ren laughed.

‘Don’t let this derail you — seriously,’ said Matt. ‘You’ve been doing great. Ben will be back. This is nothing.’

‘Well... I hope so,’ said Ren.

‘Of course he will,’ said Matt. ‘Sounds to me like you guys are great together. You don’t need drama. Call him. You deserve calm.’

‘Oh my God — you’re saying I deserve boredom...’

‘Stop,’ said Matt. ‘Don’t freak me out.’

‘I’m kidding, relax.’ Except, I’m not really.

‘So,’ said Matt, ‘have you had any further thoughts on actually telling Ben...?’

‘That I’m nuts?’ said Ren. ‘Ben took his seat just in time for The Sane Show. He doesn’t need to see the coming attractions...’


Ren was about to walk up the stairs to bed. The files from Janine’s office were on the floor in the hallway. She paused. Then she bent down, picked them up and took them into the dining room. She went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, grabbed a bottle of water and set them both on Annie’s giant mahogany table.

Screw you, Ben Rader. Coming all this way to fight with me. Dickhead.

Ren went back into the kitchen, got a box of cookies and the Mike and Ike that Devin had left her. She sat down and opened the Viggi Leinster file.

OK, let’s see what you’ve got.

There were fifty witness statements, from the staff and guests at the movie premiere and at Vescovi’s, where the after-party was held. The Vescovis themselves were not among them.

Assuming that was the name of the owner.

She opened her laptop and Googled Vescovi’s. It was featured on some obscure New York City nostalgia-style photography websites. She clicked on one and was brought to a page that told her it was owned by Marco and Elisabetta Vescovi. The restaurant was opened in 1954, soon became hugely popular with the glamorous elite of the city, but its popularity waned and by 1959 Marco Vescovi had gambled away his fortune and was unable to maintain the business. But he was still able to open a new restaurant the following year, on a different site, which remained open until his death in 1992. Elisabetta Vescovi was still alive and living in Bensonhurst, New York.

Ren searched some more, but found nothing else.

She grabbed her phone and texted Janine.

R u up?

Y

Ren called her. ‘Hey, I’m in the Viggi Leinster file. Do you have any idea why the Vescovis weren’t interviewed... the restaurant owners? There are no witness statements here from them.’

‘I do not know that,’ said Janine. ‘It was possibly because they weren’t there that night.’

‘On the night of a movie premiere party?’ said Ren.

‘They could have been on vacation, they could have been in hospital, jail, anywhere,’ said Janine. ‘I’ll check that out. Have you gone through the whole file?’

‘Almost,’ said Ren.

‘And?’ said Janine.

‘My main issue is the dearth of witness statements for a night like that,’ said Ren.

‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but... that’s not what we’re here for. The exercise is not to solve one of my cases, it’s to find a possible link to Laura Flynn...’

Ooh. ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘I’m not trying to do your job or anything, I’m just... curious. There should be more guests on that list. This was a high society event and there seem to be lots of statements from busboys and ticket-takers and waitresses. It’s light on party guests.’

‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but... honestly, hours of your valuable time could go by in a sea of these statements.’

Grrr.

‘And aren’t you supposed to be having a romantic evening with Mr Rader?’

‘That’s a story for another time,’ said Ren.

‘Please tell me you have not had a fight... Can you only take him by the weekend?’ She laughed.

‘No...’ No.

‘What is wrong with you?’ said Janine.

‘I do not know,’ said Ren. ‘I was tired...’

‘Is he there?’ said Janine.

‘He stormed out.’

‘Well, I’m sure he’ll be back when he’s cooled off. And Ren? Make up with him. Don’t be afraid.’

‘Stop that,’ said Ren. ‘You’re assuming this was an insignificant argument.’

‘Mm, OK... Was this a significant argument?’

‘No,’ said Ren.

‘Were some of the things he said to you correct?’ said Janine.

‘Yes.’

‘And did you throw in a few nasty comments?’

‘I did.’

‘Right, my judgment stands,’ said Janine. ‘In the matter of Ren Bryce v Ben Rader, I order Ren Bryce to get a grip.’

‘Thank you, Your Honor.’

‘In the meantime,’ said Janine, ‘do not drive yourself nuts with all these. Skim them, if that’s possible.’

Don’t be ridiculous.

‘I called Kristen Faule, by the way,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve set up a meeting with Conor Gorman at two p.m. tomorrow.’


Ren went back to the file and Janine’s cross-referenced notes with the Angelo Marianelli disappearance. It was in December 1957; six weeks after Viggi Leinster. One witness, a busboy in Vescovi’s, had said that he was aware of an affair between Angelo Marianelli and Viggi Leinster.

Ren went back to the statement of Viggi Leinster’s neighbor. It was strange that there was no mention of a man ever calling to Viggi Leinster’s apartment. Wouldn’t this man she was having an affair with be visiting her apartment? Or was he wealthy enough that they met in hotels? Starlets were like lightbulbs to moths. She was beautiful. She would have had all kinds swarming around her...

There was a print-out of Angelo Marianelli’s mugshot clipped to the page. He was a pinch-faced, birdy, mean-looking man. There was nothing of the charming rogue about him.

What were you thinking, Viggi Leinster?

The doorbell rang.

Shit. Ben.

What were you thinking, Ren Bryce?

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