“No apologies are necessary,” Balthazar said. “This staircase is awfully steep, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I said.
As we started moving, I realized where I’d seen the hurrying man before. He was part of the tweed brigade I’d seen the previous day in Sky’s office.
Yesterday. I just took this case yesterday.
Once we finally reached the top of the stars, Balthazar led me down a hallway festooned with pine garlands and wreathes and bunches of holly and into the type of space they used to call a solarium—pale green furniture, potted orchids and hibiscus, the entire far wall and ceiling comprising large, courtyard-facing windows.
Directly beneath the windows was an elegantly set table, with one Welch at either end. Lydia wore a burgundy suit in a subtle pattern that I immediately recognized as Hermès. Bill wore a forest-green cashmere sweater over a white polo shirt,tailored wool slacks, and a Bulgari watch—the epitome of multimillionaire casual. When I walked in, the two of them were silently sipping their glasses of iced tea with sour expressions on their faces—as if they were auditioning for a remake ofCitizen Kane. If Mr. Tweed had come to deliver news to the Welches, it looked as though that news hadn’t been great. And here I was, about to crush them even more.
“Ms. Randall has arrived,” Balthazar said.
They both looked up at me with tired eyes.
It occurred to me how much of a butler’s job involved stating the obvious.
Twenty-Six
“Sunny. You’re right on time!” Lydia said. Bill just sat there scowling at me. I greeted both of them with a smile. Lydia directed me to the place setting facing the window, and I sat down. We all drank our iced tea.
“Sky said she’d be a bit late,” Lydia said. “Something at work that she had to take care of. She said to go ahead and start without her.”
“You know, I’m happy about that,” I said, “because there’s something I wanted to discuss with the two of you, alone.”
“Sky can hear anything you have to tell us,” Lydia said. “She’s like a second child to us.”
“All the same,” I said.
“A second child who isn’t ruining our lives like the first child does continuously,” Bill said.
“Bill,” Lydia said.
I drank my iced tea. Balthazar pushed a cart into the room. He placed bowls of consommé in front of us and set a basket of bread on the table. We all picked up our spoons. I took a sip of my consommé and waited for the butler to leave. Once he did, I launched into the speech I’d been dreading. “Okay, so…the good news is, your son is definitely alive.”
“That’s splendid. Splendid,” Lydia said.
“Where the hell is he, and why is he hiding?” Bill asked.
“I’m not sure where he is. But he’s got a lot of reasons to be hiding.”
“You can say that again,” Bill said. “I already know of one.”
“Bill,” Lydia said. “Let Sunny speak.”
I then launched into the bad news, which started with the fact that Dylan had basically admitted to killing Trevor Weiss in an audio message to Elspeth.
“Good God, why?” Lydia said.
I then moved on, flashback-style, to the first time he contacted Elspeth after his disappearance, how he’d threatened to ruin and/or end her life if she didn’t fetch him his gun. I told them about the stalking, the photo taken through Elspeth’s bathroom window, the many times he’d called and texted her—right up through last night.
As I spoke, Bill’s face got redder and redder, while the color drained from Lydia’s, her cheeks sinking in, as if she were slowly deflating. I felt awful for her. I really did. As a woman, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a son like that. “It’s not your fault,” I told her.
Bill spoke through his teeth. “What exactly were the files he asked the receptionist to delete?” he said.
“Elspeth didn’t know,” I said. “She was frightened. She said she just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and so she deleted them without opening them.”
“I know what files they were,” Bill said.
