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Chapter Fifty-Six

Naomi

Tuesday, May 23, 2023, three days before her death

I asked Ben to meet me for breakfast at Sterling Club. I want to tell him that I tried to get in touch with DuPont’s fiancée, maybe not to warn her exactly, but to see what she knows.

When I see Ben, he gives me a hug, but it’s quick and casual, the kind of hug you’d give a friend. He knows I’m still hurting after finding out the truth about Liam, and I’m glad he’s giving me space. I’m also glad he’s not making me feel bad about this outcome…even though he’d predicted it.

“I’ve gotta show you this—you’re not going to believe it,” Ben says, after I sit down next to him. I wrap my hands around my coffee and look at his laptop, where a spreadsheet fills the screen. “After all the shit someone gave me for being treasurer of Sterling…” he teases. “I think I might have just found what you need.”

I give him a look. “What is this?”

“The Sterling Club books. These are last year’s Q3 numbers.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Perks of the job.” Ben shrugs. “It’s not really my job to keep track of payroll, but I have access to everything the accountants have. When you told me what you and Amy discovered, I decided to follow the money, as they say. So check this out…” He points to a line labeled Marta Koval—Housekeeper.

“Damn.” I blink hard and look at the number again. “She really makes that much?”

“Yeah.” Ben flips the laptop back to face him. “I know she’s worked for the club for a long time, but what housekeeper do you know that makes a six-figure salary? With bonuses?”

I shake my head in disbelief and look at Ben. “Okay, so what are you thinking…”

“Marta was the one who panicked when Lila’s brother reached out to her, right?” Ben asks excitedly, like he’s about to win a bet.

I nod.

“Well, look at this particular bonus. It’s around the same time the emails leaked. My guess is DuPont paid her to keep quiet. I bet she’s got something on him, more than just her word.” He grins.

I stare at him, slowly understanding, then slap the table as I stand. “You, Benjamin Wong, are a goddamn genius.”

—

I find Marta in the upstairs hall, dusting the curtains.

The floorboard creaks, and she looks in my direction. “Marta, can I ask you something?”

“Yes…” She frowns at me.

“What do you know about what happened to Lila Jones?”

Marta goes still. Emotion flashes across her face before she turns back to the window, dusting faster now.

I move closer, watching her closely. “You were there that weekend, weren’t you?”

Marta shakes her head. She gathers the cord of the vacuum cleaner next to her and walks away from me down the hall. I follow after her.

“I know about Lila’s brother. And the emails,” I say to her back, not bothering to keep my voice down. “I talked to him. He seems to believe strongly that you have some kind of evidence.” It’s not the entire truth, but I know Marta is hiding something. I can feel it. “Do you know why he would think that?”

Marta stops at the end of the hall, turns and glares at me. “I cannot talk to you. Please leave me alone.”

Clearly agitated, she turns on the vacuum and pushes it over the carpet. A group of guys walk past, and I see her eyes dart up to them, then back down to the floor. I stand with my hands on my hips, waiting for her to finish.

When Marta sees I’m not going to leave, she turns off the vacuum cleaner and sighs. She drags the vacuum behind her to the broom closet. It’s a large, dusty space, lit by a single flickering bulb. After putting away the vacuum, she turns to me, pointing a shaking finger at my chest. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of this.”

“Did Matthew do it?”

Her eyes dart to mine, filled with warning. “Stay away,” she repeats.

“You were there that weekend. You were in the background of Lila’s photo. What do you have that’s got him so scared? Why did he pay you to keep quiet?”

“Shh.” She looks fearfully around before grabbing my wrist. “Someone will hear you.”

“Marta. We can go to the police. I’ll help you.” Marta is breathing hard. She closes her eyes for a moment as if hit by the force of the memory. When she looks at me, she looks exhausted.

“You must leave. Now.”