Page 64 of Murder on the Upper East Side

Beatrice stood. She’d heard enough. Plausible deniability, and all that. Silently, she slipped out of Bash’s office and into the reception foyer. She leaned against the credenza, pulled her own phone from her bag, and opened her messages.

Our boy’s in trouble. Can we meet?

11 April 2017

Instagram

Image: Bash Beaumont sits alone on the bench beneath the maple in Prescott’s stone courtyard, scowling.

TheUpperEdgeAh, spring break on the Upper East Side. If the sidewalks seem empty around here, it’s because most of Prescott is enjoying a week in Mustique or Cap d’Antibes. But for a few seniors, April is a wakeup call. With graduation mere weeks away, seminar papers are coming due, and rumour has it one of Mr Harris’s most infamous students may be walking into summer school instead of walking out with the rest of his class… Tick tock, Sebastian.

@Margaret_KensI’ll tutor you, Bash.

@_RuperT$@Margaret_Kens So thirsty, ew. Besides, Bash can just buy an A paper online. This isn’t even news.

@Alice_in_the_City@_RuperT$ No way, remember what happened to Rachel Covington last year? Harris is too smart for that.

@NicholasVon_KBash you idiot, get it together.

@SebastianBParty at dusk on the Lenox Club roof deck. Dress to impress. If you have to ask if you’re invited, you’re not.

2311 April 2017

The roof deck was not, technically speaking, open to guests. There had been some talk among Richard Beaumont and his investors about renovating the space to open a three-season garden terrace with cocktail tables and lounge chairs, an outdoor bar, and possibly a small bocce lane. Evenings with string quartets and films projected beneath the stars had been bandied about. But such a renovation would involve bringing the deck up to code – coating the flagstone with a non-slip finish, replacing the low wall along the perimeter with a 42-foot-long wrought-iron railing and tempered glass panels, and closing the second floor for several weeks while a team of engineers installed reinforcements to support high guest volumes on the rooftop.

It was all possible, of course – everything was possible for a Beaumont – but the truth was, Bash’s father preferred to keep the deck as a private, family-only space: a deep, cushioned sofa and a few chairs clustered around a stone fire pit. A small teak barcart stocked with Richard’s personal supply of vintages and whiskeys. A single weatherproof cabinet housing an antique chess set and a selection of leisure reading. Boating, architecture, a history of the Roman Empire.

Bash and Edward were allowed unfettered access, but due to the lack of safety measures, they’d been forbidden long ago from bringing friends up to the roof. And certainly from serving alcohol.

Neither Beaumont son was much of a rule-follower. Bash deleted his comment onThe Upper Edgean hour after posting – couldn’t give Daddy or Edward, who were traipsing about the French Riviera with Richard’s latest girlfriend Sara (pronounced Sah-rah), reason to fly home early – but by sundown, the roof had already filled with Prescott’s spring break ‘leftovers’, those not currently vacationing somewhere with a perfect blend of European sun and cultural significance. It was, in fact, a greater slice of the school population thanThe Upper Edgehad implied, and Bruno was stationed at the club’s front door, turning freshmen and sophomores away. (Bash had ensured the actual staff were tipped generously to keep tonight’s soirée, on an otherwise quiet Tuesday at the club, on the down low.)

Hannah lingered close to Bruno in the club’s entry, trying to decide if she really wanted to go up to the roof. Oliver was in Berlin for the week, not that he would have been invited. Theo was golfing in the Algarve. And Ami was still grounded – and a sophomore to boot. Hannah glanced back at the club’sfront door. On the one hand, she was already here, dressed in a paisley sundress with a fitted bodice and vintage gold heels, which she hoped was ‘impressive’ enough for a spring roof party. On the other hand, she was missing Miller family game night again, which would be decidedly less exciting than a Prescott party but also far less stressful and exhausting. On her way out the door, her dad had given her a kiss on the cheek, but it was clear he was disappointed she was skipping out on family time. Which had, of course, made her even more determined to go to the Lenox Club. But now… It wasn’t too late to turn around and catch the downtown 6.

‘Going up?’

Madison was beside her then, wearing a silk, floral print Ulla Johnson midi dress. She’d draped an ivory cardigan casually around her shoulders, and a slim gold bracelet adorned her wrist. Instead of her usual heels, she’d chosen nude sandals for the occasion. Her toenails were blush pink, completing the springtime colourstory.

‘Yes,’ Hannah said, the decision made, starting up the stairs to the Lenox Club’s second floor. ‘I’ve never been to the roof deck before. I guess I didn’t want to go up alone.’

‘Good thing you’ve got me.’ Madison hooked her arm through Hannah’s, her wide smile radiating warmth. Hannah felt instantly chosen, special, despite herself. Madison could be manipulative and cruel, but she was also charming and generous with her affectionwhen she wanted to be. And right now, Elle was away – a tour of Morocco with her parents – and so Hannah was to be Madison’s anointed one for the night. Internally, she shrugged. After seven months at Prescott, she knew how Madison worked. It was fine to allow yourself an evening in her good graces if you didn’t expect the same tomorrow.

Madison guided her up the stairs and down the hall, past the closed doors to the club’s ten guest rooms. They stopped at the end. To their left was the Caraway Room, the corner suite. To their right was a plain wooden door with a velvet cord draped across it. On it was a small brass plaque readingNo Admittance. Madison unhooked the cord and turned the knob. The door opened onto a second set of stairs, leading up.

She gestured for Hannah to go first. ‘This way to the roof.’

At the top of the stairs, Hannah took in forty or so Prescott students mingling in the open air. Lanterns lined the low perimeter wall, and string lights hung from a canopy meant to provide sun shade in the day. In the centre of the roof, Bash was hunched over the ancient fire pit, trying to make the gas work. Yet another thing that would need to be replaced if the club ever opened the roof to members. Along the far wall, Beatrice quietly tended bar.

Hannah took two steps onto the deck and immediately regretted her heels. The floor was flagstone, worn from years of use and slick beneath her feet.She gripped Madison’s arm, steadying herself. Now, it was clear why she’d chosen sandals for the evening.

Madison laughed. ‘This place is such a hazard.’

‘Guess I missed the memo about wearing flats,’ Hannah muttered.

Madison glanced around, eyes lighting on one of her faithful. She beckoned Ethan over. ‘Be a dear and fetch Hannah a pair of slippers. There’s a basket in the MacAllister Room.’

‘The room where—?’ Ethan started to say, but Madison cut him off.

‘Don’t bother Bash. Poor thing is fighting a losing battle with that prehistoric fire pit. Brooks or James can get you the spare key from behind reception.’