The Murderer They Brought Home

Chapter 4 The Dinner

The dinner party was Vivian's idea.

"We need to present you to society," she said. "Let people know you're part of the family."

I didn't point out that I'd been part of the family for months and no one had bothered to present me to anyone. I just nodded and let her dress me in a gown that cost more than my first car (not that I'd ever had a car).

The guests arrived at seven. Old money, all of them. Women in diamonds, men in suits that probably cost as much as a small house. They looked at me the way I looked at a new food I wasn't sure about: curious, suspicious, ready to decide whether I was worth the calories.

Vivian introduced me as "our daughter, Delia." I shook hands and smiled and said thank you.

Eleanor stood by the fireplace, wrapped in a shawl, looking fragile and beautiful. People flocked to her. They asked how she was feeling. They told her how brave she was. She smiled and accepted their sympathy like a queen accepting tribute.

I watched her and thought about what I knew.

The eating disorder. The manipulation. The act.

She caught my eye at one point and smiled. It was a real smile, sharp and knowing. Like we were in on a secret together.

I smiled back.

The dinner was long. Eleven courses. I ate and made conversation and tried to figure out who the players were.

There was a lawyer, a man named Paulson, who watched me with keen eyes. A judge who seemed to know everyone's secrets. A woman named Mrs. Carmichael, who was old and rich and clearly held the purse strings of half the charities in the city.

And there was a young man, maybe thirty, who kept looking at me. Not in a creepy way. In a curious way.

After dinner, he approached me.

"You're the lost daughter," he said.

"I'm the found daughter. There's a difference."

He smiled. "I'm David. David Chen. My family has been friends with the Ashfords for years."

"Then you know more about them than I do."

"Maybe." He glanced around the room. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure."

We went to the bar. He ordered two glasses of wine and handed me one.

"So," he said. "What's it like? Being back?"

I shrugged. "Complicated."

"I can imagine." He took a sip. "I've known Henry since college. He's not an easy person to get close to."

"No. He's not."

"But he's loyal. He'd do anything for his family." He looked at me. "Including things that aren't exactly legal."

I felt my heart skip. "What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Nothing. Just a figure of speech."

But his eyes said something else.

I filed him away and kept talking. We made small talk about the foundation, the city, the weather. But underneath, I was thinking.

Things that aren't exactly legal. Henry, the fixer. The phone call I'd overheard.

What was he hiding?

At the end of the night, after the guests had gone, I went up to my room and sat on the bed.

The door opened.

Eleanor.

"You were talking to David Chen," she said.

"So?"

"So he's dangerous. He knows things." She came and sat on the bed. "Things about Henry. Things that could hurt this family."

"What kinds of things?"

"That's not your business."

"It might be."

She looked at me. "Why do you care?"

"Because I live here. Because I'm part of this family, whether you like it or not. And because whatever Henry's hiding, it affects all of us."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed.

"He made a mistake. A few years ago. He was handling a grant, and he took a shortcut. It wasn't illegal, exactly, but it wasn't right. And if it comes out, it could ruin him."

"What kind of shortcut?"

"He used foundation money to cover a personal debt. He paid it back, but it was too late. The paper trail was there." She looked at me. "David knows. He's been threatening to expose Henry for years. But so far, he hasn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for the right moment." She stood up. "I shouldn't have told you this. But you're right. You're part of this family now. And that means you're part of this, too."

She walked to the door.

"Be careful, Delia," she said. "This family has enemies. And they don't care who they hurt."

She left.

I sat in the dark and thought about what she'd said.

Henry. The fixer. The one who cleaned up messes. But he'd made a mess of his own. And someone knew.

I could use this. If I needed to. If Henry ever threatened me.

But I could also do nothing.

I didn't know which was worse.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.