Page 19 of Murder on the Upper East Side

‘Or blackmailed him,’ tight brown curls snorted. ‘You know how she worked.’

Blond moustache gave his head a disapproving shake. ‘She was always flaunting her success, but she didn’t even have a real job. What was she doing with her fancy degree and all that money? Nothing.’

‘Not to speak ill of the dead, but…’ The woman wrapped her pearls around a slender finger. ‘It’s just a fact that everyone here tonight hated her.Especiallythe people who pretended to be her friends. Like Hannah Miller.’

Hannah felt the woman’s eyes dart towards her, and she burrowed her head further into Oliver’s shoulder, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard.

Tight brown curls spoke up next. ‘If not Hannah, I bet it was Alex. You know how Madison always pushed him around.’

‘Her own brother?’ the woman hissed. Hannah risked a glance in their direction. That was interesting.

Blond moustache frowned. ‘They’d better figure it out soon. I have tickets toTristan und Isoldetomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.’

Then Edward Beaumont was in front of Oliver and Hannah, clearing his throat. Hannah straightened. She’d been too busy eavesdropping to notice his arrival. ‘Come with me, Oliver. The detectives wish to speak to you next.’

Oliver Morgan followed the elder Beaumont brother through the lounge and up the narrow set of stairs to the Lenox Club’s second floor. Whatever Ms Caldwell had told detectives, it must have painted him in a pretty bad light. After all, he hadn’t said a damn word to Madison from the moment she’d arrived at the club, till the moment she’d keeled over in the hallway. But whoever had killed her had had the good sense to kill the lights too, and now everyone was fair game.

Or maybe the detectives were simply building their case against Hannah. She and Oliver had maintained a casual friendship post-Prescott, something Ms Caldwell may or may not have known. Either way, the Head of School would have certainly told the detectives about Hannah’s ability to juggle friend groups during her year at Prescott, flitting from party to party with Madison and Elle, but retreating to the safety of Oliver’s company when things got too heated among the ‘in’ crowd.

‘In here.’ Edward opened the door to the Caraway Room, then stepped aside.

Oliver took in the two detectives seated in leather rolling chairs behind the room’s large mahogany desk. He took the seat opposite while they introduced themselves, pressed play on a recorder and asked him to state his name.

‘Oliver Nicholas Morgan. And yeah, I’ll speak to you.’ He squared his shoulders. He hadabsolutely nothingto hide… as long as the detectives stuck with the past.

Detective Raina Wellesley spoke first. ‘I gather you and Hannah Miller are close friends.’

Oliver swallowed. ‘We’ve kept in touch.’

‘What can you tell us about Hannah’s relationship to Madison DuPont?’

He sighed. ‘That’s easy. They don’t have a relationship, haven’t since high school. Seriously, you’re barking up the wrong tree with Hannah. She doesn’t give a damn about Madison, and frankly, they were barely even friends at Prescott.’

‘That’s interesting,’ Detective Crews cut in, ‘because Ms Miller told us they were close back then. Would you say Hannah mischaracterised their friendship?’

Well, fuckity fuck.He’d only been trying to help, but somehow he’d made matters worse. ‘No, look. They were friends, but it wasn’t arealfriendship. Madison used people, and Hannah was fresh meat. A fascinating new specimen for Madison to toy with. The point is, Hannah moved on with her life ages ago. She definitely didn’t kill Madison.’

‘Mmm,’ Detective Wellesley murmured. ‘That’s quite a tux. Dolce & Gabbana?’

Oliver nodded, startled by the topic swerve. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. And yes, it’s D&G.’

‘It certainly stands out at a venue like the Lenox Club.’

He pressed his lips together. What was she getting at? ‘I work in the lifestyle space. My followers are self-made millionaires, or aspire to be. There’s more than one way to wear your success on the Upper East Side.’

Detective Wellesley smiled. ‘Indeed. I gather you’ve always stood out among the legacy lot at Prescott.’

He settled back in his chair. He knew where this line of inquiry was going, but he could control the narrative.

‘My parents founded Morgan Row in 1996, catering to ambitious buyers seeking entry-point elegance on the Upper East. By the early 2000s, they were grossing over two hundred million annually in high-end residential sales. Morgan Row represents New York’s future – not its past.’ He paused to adjust the diamond chain around his neck. ‘Families like the Beaumonts can’t stomach our success, never mind that Beaumont Capital is a listing agency with residential and commercial clients, nor that their annual gross is nearly twice Morgan Row’s.’

Oliver sighed deeply. ‘But yes, to answer your question, when I arrived at Prescott, I was either sneered at or ignored. Fitting in was never going to be an option. I went the other way.’

‘I see,’ Detective Crews said. ‘And Madison DuPont – how did she treat you in school?’

‘Like shit.’ He gave the detectives a casual shrug. ‘I won’t pretend otherwise. It stung at the time, but that was ten years ago, and frankly, Madison wasn’t the worst offender. That honour went to Sebastian Beaumont.’

‘Either way, Madison had a powerful hold over her group of friends,’ Detective Wellesley said. ‘From what we’ve learned, she was the ringleader.’