Page 86 of Murder on the Upper East Side

The churning in her stomach turned to a hard knot. But she wasn’t quite done. Next, she opened her messages and texted Madison.

Your secret’s safe with me. By tomorrow, everyone will be talking about a brand-new Prescott hookup. I made sure of it.

That should do it.

Feeling satisfied – if slightly ill – Hannah descended the stairs to the 6 train and pulled out her MetroCard. When she emerged on Spring Street, the notificationsonThe Upper Edgewere already popping. Her plan was working. There was no going back now.

With trembling fingers, she opened the app.

27 May 2017

Instagram

Image: Bruno Alvarez sprawled on a lounge chair on the DuPonts’ balcony. Lying half on top of Bruno is a tall boy in a pale pink shirt, his face obscured from the camera. They’re mid-kiss, and Bruno’s hands are grabbing the other boy’s ass.

TheUpperEdgeLooks like one of Prescott’s cutest couples is headed for Splitsville. Who is this mystery man?

@Alice_in_the_CityOh snap who is that?!

@Ty_Marsdaaaawg how did I sleep through balcony sex lol

@Ethan_ASTORTake that down NOW

@CarinRutherfordWho was even wearing a pale pink shirt at Madison’s? @NicholasVon_K

@NicholasVon_K@CarinRutherford not it

@Ethan_ASTORI’m serious @TheUpperEdge. Take it DOWN

32Saturday, 13 June 2026

6:51am

Hannah stood in the hallway outside the Caraway Room, Edward Beaumont hovering too close beside her. The scent of stale morning sweat had begun to seep from beneath his armpits, mingling with the fine Italian wool of his suit jacket and some overly musky cologne. She stifled a gag as he raised his arm to rap on the door.

Detective Wellesley’s voice called out from inside the room. ‘Come in!’

Edward turned the knob, and Hannah stepped through the door. Detective Wellesley was standing by the window, looking out. The sun had fully risen, and the street was washed in bright morning light that seemed ill-fitting for the occasion. Detective Crews was seated at the desk, tapping a pen repeatedly against the notebook spread open before him. Empty brunch plates and two coffee mugs were stacked near the edge of the desk. Edward stepped into the roomto retrieve them while Detective Wellesley gestured to the open chair on the opposite end of the desk. The chair in which Hannah had sat for her interview a little more than ten hours ago.

Now she was back, of her own accord.

‘No thank you,’ she said as Edward stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. ‘I’d rather stand.’

‘Mr Beaumont said you had some information to share with us?’ Detective Crews asked. He’d stopped the pen-tapping and was looking up at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Curiosity, or maybe bemusement. She walked past the desk and leaned against the large antique dresser.

‘I heard you’ve received several eye-witness accounts of Oliver Morgan in the hallway outside the restrooms, shortly before Madison DuPont collapsed there. Truthfully, I’m not sure that’s meaningful.’ The detectives exchanged an annoyed glance, and she rushed on before they could interrupt. ‘He could have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But—’ She paused for just a moment. ‘Thereissomething about Oliver I think you should know.’

Detective Crews pushed back his chair, then perched on the edge of the desk. From her station at the windows, Detective Wellesley crossed her arms and frowned.

Hannah drew in a steadying breath. Was she really going to do this? Her plan might save her, but also – there would be no going back.

‘I believe the person who killed Madison DuPont was obsessed with her, likely ever since high school. Tonight was the culmination of a decade of fascination, and hatred.’

‘Yes, that all seems likely,’ Detective Crews agreed. ‘Go on.’

‘You have our phones, don’t you?’ Hannah asked. ‘They were all collected at the start of the night.’

‘We can’t release any devices,’ Detective Wellesley said. ‘Not yet.’