Page 56 of Murder on the Upper East Side

‘What?’ Hannah asked.

‘Probably nothing. It’s just… all night, Edward’s been escorting people to the interview room, when there are four uniformed officers who should be doing that. And clearly Bash just had a tête-à-tête with the cops. They’re treating them like colleagues, not suspects.’

A muscle in Hannah’s jaw ticked. ‘I’m sure the Beaumonts give generously to the NYPD.’

Just then, three white-gloved waitstaff entered the dining room with the promised meat and cheese boards and a giant platter of fresh fruit. Hannah stood. ‘You should eat something. I’m going to look for Bash.’

Bash wasn’t in the dining room, nor was he at the bar. Hannah was about to do a sweep of the librarywhen she spotted someone else she needed to talk to. Ethan Astor was seated, alone, at the far end of the bar, near the empty reception desk. Beyond it, one of the uniformed officers stood unmoving, his back still resting against the club’s front door.

The seat beside Ethan was empty. She gave one last glance in the direction of the library – still no Bash – then walked over to the bar. If she was honest, she’d been avoiding Ethan tonight, still haunted by her role in his breakup with Bruno all those years ago. But she needed to get over herself. Ethan didn’t know the truth, for one. And more importantly, Madison had given both her dear disciples plenty of reason to hate her back in their Prescott days, and Ethan Astor was very much a suspect. Hannah squared her shoulders. She had work to do.

‘Nothing for me,’ she told the bartender when she’d slid onto the high-backed barstool.

Ethan looked at her, startled, then settled back into his seat and raised his glass.

‘Long time.’ He took a sip of bourbon. He’d filled out since high school; broad shoulders filled a tux jacket in a muted olive green. His mop of wavy brown hair was the same, though, lending a boyish quality to the face beneath, and his green eyes sparkled brighter than ever, brought out by the threads of his tux.

‘Ten years,’ Hannah agreed. She generally avoided alumni events, and besides, they’d graduated in different classes. ‘You still keep up with everyone?’

‘Not everyone. Not most people, I guess.’

‘Bruno?’ she asked, now wishing she did have a drink.

He gave her a wary glance. ‘Sometimes.’

‘I saw you two talking earlier tonight,’ Hannah tried again. ‘It reminded me of old times.’

Ethan shrugged. ‘Seems like a million years ago.’

‘You gave him a lot of grace, after the cheating thing. You guys were only sixteen – I remember being impressed by that.’

Ethan took another sip. ‘Yeah, well. I was hell-bent on being the bigger person. I kept up the friendship all senior year, and soon enough, I actually forgave him. After graduation, I used to visit Bruno at Columbia when I was home. He came out to Berkeley a couple of times. But once he and Will got serious, he didn’t have time for me anymore.’

‘Will?’

‘William Peter Von Essen the Third. Bruno’s husband. He’s a banker, some private lender downtown.’ Ethan stifled a yawn.

‘He here tonight?’

‘Nah. Will’s a Dalton boy. He doesn’tdoPrescott.’

Hannah nodded. She got it, even if she didn’tgetit. Dalton and Prescott had always been rivals. In fact, Elle had once been convinced that someone from Dalton ranThe Upper Edge.

‘Did you manage to stay in touch with Elle?’ she asked. ‘Or Madison?’

Ethan sighed. ‘Things changed after your classgraduated. There was still drama, but no one quite filled their shoes. Honestly, it was nice.’

‘But you were so close for a while. Especially with Madison.’

‘Closeis one way to put it.’ There was a tinge of bitterness in Ethan’s voice. ‘She kept us close any way she knew how. You saw it.’

Hannah nodded. She’d seen it all year, and by the spring term, Madison’s controlling behaviour had begun to wear on both Ethan and Bruno. Her mind travelled back to Valentine’s Day weekend, when she’d nearly run into them in the Meatpacking District. They’d been talking some serious shit about Madison. They’d both fantasised about killing her. Had either of them mentioned poison? She wheeled around on her barstool, snagging a pair of black hotel slippers from a Lenox Club housekeeper with a wicker basket. Gratefully, she kicked her shoes to the floor and slipped them on. They were a bit snug, but a major improvement.

‘Hey.’ She turned back around. Oliver was in the seat to her right, sliding a matching pair of complimentary slippers onto his feet. Ethan gave him a small nod.

‘So you didn’t keep in touch?’ Hannah asked. ‘With Madison?’

Ethan knocked back the rest of his bourbon, then signalled the bartender for another.