All of which had impressed Matthew deeply. He’d been Charlie’s fan from the start. He’d begun imitating him slavishly, which turned out to be a highly effective way of gaining his friendship. Charlie had seemed to enjoy having his younger, smaller acolyte at his side, piloting him across the schoolyard when he first arrived, or showing him how to get around London on the bus and Tube. Matthew had accepted his role as the junior partner unprotestingly, but he’d also felt proprietorial about Charlie. He’d liked showing him off, basking in the reflected glory, though he was also just plain proud of him in himself. He’d heard his sister describe him to a friend on the phone as “princely,” and the word had seemed to sum him up precisely.
“Matt, weren’t you at the Millstream bar the night of the fireworks?” Charlie said, jolting Matthew back into the present. He’d been reading on his iPad in between turns.
Matthew answered carefully.
“Yes…”
“Like at around seven, seven-thirty?”
“Probably.”
“That guy Grollier was there. The barman remembers seeing him.”
Matthew paused, waiting for Chloe to remind Charlie not to talk about this in front of Lily, but she seemed to have forgotten that useful restraint on Charlie’s stubborn interest in the story.
“That’s right,” Matthew answered. “It was on the news yesterday. They were talking about it at Lily’s party.”
“You must have seen him there yourself.”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Apparently he got a call at the bar around seven-thirty and left in a hurry right after.”
“Right. That’s what they said.”
“So you might have seen him talking on his phone.”
Matthew was about to say he’d already left by seven-thirty, but decided to remain vague about the timing of his departure.
“I guess it’s possible.”
“Was the bar crowded?”
“Not especially.”
“But you don’t remember seeing him?”
“I mean, I don’t really know what he looks like.”
“Oh, he’s unmistakable. He’s a big guy, built like a tank. Kind of a loudmouth too, right, Chlo? You’d definitely know if you saw him. What I’m saying, Matt, is if you remember anything about him, it might be worth letting those people at the sheriff’s department know. They obviously need all the help they can get.”
Chloe had stood up. For a moment she remained motionless. Then, as if to explain the action, she went into the kitchen, murmuring that she’d be right back.
“You’re right,” Matthew said. His mouth had gone very dry.
“Even if it was just whether he was looking happy or upset while he talked.”
“Yes. I’m trying to remember if I saw him.”
“Your turn, Daddy,” Lily said.
Charlie looked at his letters. Chloe came back in from the kitchen with a saucer of kumquats and chocolate. She put her hand gently on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be on your screen while we’re playing.”
“Right. Right. Sorry.”
They played on.
A few minutes later the game was interrupted again, this time by the ringing of the front doorbell. It was such a rare occurrence that all four looked at each other, as if unsure what the sound actually was.
Charlie stood up.
“Better not be those Watchtower people.”
“Don’t be rude to them if it is,” Chloe called after him.
They heard the door opening and muffled voices. Charlie called back from the kitchen:
“Uh… it’s the police, Chloe. They want to talk to us about Wade Grollier.”
Chloe was still for a moment; her slight figure seeming to brace itself.
“Go to your room and practice, sweetheart,” she said to Lily.
The girl left obediently. Chloe stood up, her face glassily expressionless, and climbed the three steps to the kitchen level. Matthew, whose first instinct was to absent himself, decided on second thought to follow after her.
In the kitchen Charlie motioned at a man in a jacket and tie.
“This is Detective-”
“Fernandez,” the man said. “And my colleague, Officer Lombardi.” He nodded toward a woman in uniform, who was wiping the rain from her face with a handkerchief.
Charlie introduced Chloe and Matthew. The detective shook their hands, wafting a scent of cologne from his jacket.
He looked about forty, with a thick black mustache and tired, dark eyes. The uniformed woman was younger, wide-shouldered and pale, her face a studious blank.
“Apparently we showed up on a list of possible social connections,” Charlie said. He looked back at the detective. “Through his Facebook contacts, I’m guessing? I notice his name comes up sometimes on those mutual friends notifications.”
The detective nodded vaguely.
“I was just telling your husband, ma’am, we’re trying to track down any possible social or business connections of Mr. Grollier here in Aurelia.”
The detective’s voice, pleasantly soft and somber, had a faint Hispanic accent. Puerto Rican, Matthew guessed.
“I don’t imagine he had many,” Charlie said. “This isn’t exactly celebrity country up here.”
The detective smiled.
“There’s actually a lot of folks who turn out to know people he knew. Four degrees of separation, isn’t that what they say?”
“Six, I think,” Charlie said. “Though in our case just one, since we did actually meet him in the flesh.”
“Oh, I thought-”
“Not up here, as I said, but a couple of years ago, at a fund-raiser in Aspen. Chloe talked to him a little. I barely said hello, but I remember him. Smart guy, kind of flamboyant.”
“But you definitely didn’t run into him here in Aurelia?”
“No, no. We didn’t even know he was up here. I wish we had! Maybe things would have turned out different. Who knows, maybe we’d have had him over for dinner that night…”
The detective nodded.
“Well, we’d still like to talk to you, if you don’t mind. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s go in the living room, shall we?” Chloe said, looking at the kitchen table, which was still covered in breakfast things. She turned to lead the way, but then seemed to have a change of heart. “Or actually-” she began briskly, clearing off the kitchen table.
“Chlo,” Charlie said. “Let’s just go in the living room.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but didn’t.
“Okay.”
There was a peculiar, stricken look in her eyes as she said this.