Chapter 3: The Man in the Charcoal Suit
By the time I reached my apartment, the rain had soaked through my coat.
Our building stood at the end of a narrow street on the east side of Carrow Falls, between a laundromat and a convenience store that never seemed to close.
The hallway light outside our apartment flickered whenever the refrigerator in the neighboring unit started running.
I'd complained about it twice.
Mr. Doyle had promised to fix it once.
I climbed the stairs slowly, holding the railing with my uninjured hand.
Every step reminded me of the evening's shattered champagne glasses.
Every landing brought me closer to the yellow notice still taped to my door.
Eleven hundred and forty dollars.
Due by the fifteenth.
I unlocked the apartment and stepped inside.
Desmond was sitting at the kitchen table with his homework spread in front of him.
He looked up immediately.
"Mom?""
I smiled automatically.
It was the same smile I'd worn for six years while carrying trays through crowded rooms.
"I'm home.""
His eyes moved to my wet clothes.
Then to the bandage wrapped around my hand.
"What happened?""
"Just a little accident at work.""
He pushed his chair back.
"You're bleeding.""
"It's already stopped.""
"Mom.""
He said it the way he had when he was younger, when he knew I was trying to hide something and refused to let me get away with it.
I hung my coat on the back of a chair.
"Someone needed help.""
"Who?""
"An older woman at the hotel.""
"What happened to her?""
"Nothing. Not because I was there.""
Desmond stared at me.
Then he glanced at the wall clock.
"Are you getting paid tonight?""
The question was so quiet that it nearly broke me.
I walked over and rested my uninjured hand on his shoulder.
"I don't know yet.""
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
He didn't shout or demand answers.
He simply looked down at his homework.
"Okay.""
That one word contained every worry he'd been trying not to give me.
I wanted to tell him everything would be fine.
I wanted to promise that I'd find another job tomorrow, that the rent would be paid, that his cleats would arrive before the next game.
Instead, I went into the kitchen and began heating the soup we'd saved from the previous evening.
We ate at the little table beneath the flickering light.
Desmond told me about school.
He talked about a history assignment, a teammate who kept missing practice, and a teacher who had assigned more homework than anyone could finish.
He deliberately avoided mentioning money.
I deliberately avoided mentioning that I'd lost my job.
We were both pretending that silence could protect us.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Three firm knocks.
Not the impatient pounding of a neighbor.
Not Mr. Doyle coming to remind us about the rent.
Desmond looked toward the hallway.
"Were you expecting someone?""
"No.""
I stood and went to the door.
Through the peephole, I saw a man in a dark coat.
He was tall, with gray at his temples.
For a moment, I couldn't place him.
Then I recognized his face.
The ballroom.
The bar.
The man in the charcoal suit who had watched Vivienne Ashford threaten me.
My hand tightened around the doorknob.
I opened the door only halfway.
"Can I help you?""
He glanced past me toward the kitchen.
Then he looked back at my face.
"My name is Daniel Mercer.""
The name meant nothing to me.
"I'm sorry, but it's late.""
"I know.""
He reached into his coat slowly and removed a business card.
"I was at the Halbrook Hotel tonight.""
I didn't take the card.
"If you're here because of what happened, I already told the catering supervisor the truth.""
"I'm not here to ask you to change your statement.""
"Then why are you here?""
His eyes moved to the bandage on my hand.
"Because I watched what happened, and I know what Vivienne Ashford is capable of.""
The name changed something in his expression.
He said it with the weariness of a man who had spent years learning to fear a person he couldn't easily escape.
I opened the door a little wider.
"Who are you to her?""
He hesitated.
"I'm someone who should have stopped her a long time ago.""
That wasn't an answer.
I folded my arms.
"Did you see her try to hit Harriet?""
"Yes.""
"Then why didn't you step in?""
The question struck harder than I intended.
He looked down.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
"You're right to ask that," he finally replied.
"I should have.""
I didn't know what to do with an apology from a stranger who had watched me get fired.
He held out the business card again.
This time, I took it.
Daniel Mercer.
The title beneath his name read: Senior Legal Counsel.
A company name was printed in smaller letters at the bottom, but I didn't recognize it.
"Are you a lawyer?""
"Yes.""
"Does Vivienne employ you?""
"No.""
"Then what does she have to do with you?""
His gaze sharpened.
"More than I'd like.""
Behind me, Desmond had appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He was watching Daniel with the cautious curiosity of a boy who had learned that unexpected visitors rarely brought good news.
I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door almost closed.
"I don't know what you're involved in, Mr. Mercer, but I have a son inside, and I don't need trouble.""
"I understand.""
"Do you?""
He nodded toward the business card.
"Keep that. If anyone from Bellweather Catering contacts you, don't sign anything without getting independent legal advice.""
I stared at him.
"Why would they ask me to sign anything?""
"Because they'll want a statement that protects them.""
"And Vivienne?""
His silence told me enough.
I looked at the card again.
"How do you know what she'll do?""
Daniel exhaled slowly.
"Because tonight wasn't really about the champagne. Or the slap.""
He glanced toward my apartment door.
"It was about the papers in Harriet's lap.""
I remembered the stack of documents.
The way Harriet had clutched them.
The fear in her eyes when Vivienne whispered something in her ear.
"What were they?""
"I don't know exactly.""
"You're a lawyer.""
"I'm not Harriet's lawyer.""
"Then who is?""
He looked away.
"That's complicated.""
I almost laughed.
Everyone seemed to have a complicated reason for refusing to tell me the truth.
I started to close the door.
"Thank you for the warning, but I can't help you.""
"I'm not asking you to.""
"Good.""
"Claire.""
I stopped.
He rarely used my name as if it mattered, but somehow Daniel made it sound like a warning he couldn't afford to ignore.
"Vivienne threatened you tonight because you touched her wrist.""
"She threatened me because she couldn't get away with what she was doing.""
"Perhaps.""
He studied me for a moment.
"But you need to understand something. People like Vivienne don't always retaliate in ways you can see coming.""
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
Before he could answer, a car passed slowly along the street below.
Daniel turned toward the stairwell window.
His expression changed.
A black sedan had stopped outside our building.
The headlights remained on.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Daniel stepped closer to the window.
"Do you know that car?""
"No.""
He watched it for several seconds.
Then he turned back to me.
"Lock your door tonight.""
My heart began beating faster.
"Who is in that car?""
"I don't know.""
"Then why are you worried?""
He looked at me, and for the first time I saw genuine fear in his face.
"Because I recognize the kind of car Vivienne's people use.""
He started toward the stairs.
I caught his sleeve.
"Wait. You can't just tell me that and leave.""
He turned.
"I'll call you tomorrow.""
"How do you even have my number?""
He froze.
It was a small reaction.
But I saw it.
And suddenly, the business card felt heavier in my hand.
"You know who I am," I said slowly.
"You knew my name before I gave it to you.""
Daniel didn't answer.
"Mr. Mercer, what is going on?""
He looked at my apartment door.
Then at the sedan below.
Finally, he said, "There's something about Harriet that you need to understand.""
"What?""
"She isn't just another guest at a charity event.""
I waited.
He swallowed.
"She may be the only person in Carrow Falls who can stop Vivienne Ashford.""
Then he walked down the stairs.
I stood in the hallway long after he disappeared.
When I finally returned to the apartment, Desmond was waiting beside the kitchen table.
"Who was that?""
"A lawyer.""
"Are we in trouble?""
I wanted to say no.
Instead, I locked the deadbolt and checked the window.
The black sedan was still parked outside.
Its headlights had gone dark.
I couldn't see anyone inside.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
The message contained only one sentence.
You should have kept your hands to yourself tonight, Claire Morgan.
I read it twice.
Then a second message arrived.
Ask Harriet what happened to the last person who tried to protect her.
I looked through the window again.
The sedan pulled away from the curb.
It turned the corner and disappeared into the rain.
Behind me, Desmond asked whether he should call the police.
I stared at the screen.
I had no idea who had sent the messages.
I had no idea why Daniel Mercer seemed to know more about me than he should.
And I had no idea what Harriet had done to make a woman like Vivienne Ashford so desperate to silence her.
But I knew one thing.
Tomorrow, I was going to find Harriet.
May you like
Because whatever had started in that ballroom had followed me home.
And I was beginning to suspect that the woman I'd defended wasn't the only person in Carrow Falls who needed saving.
