Chapter 6: The Man Who Came to the Funeral
The Aldgate Club occupied the top two floors of a building that had been standing since before either of us was born.
Carr was already there when I arrived.
Corner table.
His back to the wall — a habit we shared.
He stood when he saw me and extended his hand with the ease of a man who had nothing to hide.
I shook it.
We sat.
"Julian." He poured from the bottle already on the table.
"You look tired."
"Long week," I said.
"I heard you've had some changes at the house.
New staff."
I picked up my glass.
"Word travels."
"In our world it always does." He smiled.
"How are you managing?
It's been what — two years now?"
"Two years and three months," I said.
"Terrible thing." He shook his head.
"Elena was a wonderful woman.
And little Lily—" He paused, as if the weight of it was too much.
"I think about that sometimes.
The randomness of it.
A mechanical fault.
Nothing anyone could have done."
I watched him say it.
"Nothing anyone could have done," I repeated.
"Exactly." He set his glass down.
"Which is why I wanted to see you.
I have an opportunity.
A logistics contract — significant, clean, the kind of volume we haven't moved together in years.
I think it would be good for you.
Good to be working again.
Properly working."
"You're worried about me," I said.
"I'm looking out for you.
We go back a long way."
"We do," I said.
"Tell me about this contract."
He talked for ten minutes.
I listened.
I asked two questions.
I let him believe the meeting was going the way he had planned it.
Then I said: "Do you know a woman named Grace?"
A pause.
Half a second.
No more.
"Can't say I do," he said.
"Should I?"
"She works for me," I said.
"Housekeeper.
Remarkable woman.
Very observant." I watched his face.
"She has an excellent memory for details.
Faces.
Cars.
Partial license plates."
Carr's expression didn't change.
But his right hand moved to the table and stayed there.
"Sounds like a useful employee," he said.
"She is," I said.
"She remembers a car from a farmer's market on Aldridge Street.
About two years and four months ago." I tilted my head.
"Dark blue.
Waiting in the lot before Elena even reached the exit."
The silence between us changed texture.
"Julian," he said.
His voice had dropped.
"I think you may be—"
"Don't," I said.
"We've known each other nine years.
Don't insult that by finishing that sentence."
He looked at me for a long moment.
The warmth was gone now.
What was underneath it was something I recognized.
Calculation.
"What do you want?" he said.
"I want to know who gave the order," I said.
"You're careful, Dominic.
You don't move on something like this without authorization from above you.
Someone wanted Elena gone.
I want that name."
"You're not thinking clearly—"
"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in two years." I leaned forward.
"Give me the name.
Walk away from the contract, the operation, all of it.
Disappear.
That's the offer."
Carr sat back.
He picked up his wine glass.
He looked at it.
"And if I don't?"
"Then everything Grace remembers goes to people who are not on your payroll," I said.
"And everything my sister wrote down last night goes with it."
His head came up.
"Vera," he said softly.
Not a question.
Just the name, like something falling.
"She was thorough," I said.
"She remembered quite a lot."
Carr set the glass down.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said: "You should be careful, Julian.
The man you're asking about — he is not someone you move against without consequences."
"Give me his name."
"He has reach you haven't seen yet.
He has people inside structures you rely on."
"His name, Dominic."
Carr looked at me.
Something moved behind his eyes — not quite fear, not quite respect.
Something between them.
"Harlan Voss," he said quietly.
"He runs a private equity structure out of Geneva.
He and Elena's father were partners twenty years ago.
When the partnership dissolved, there was money that was never properly accounted for.
Elena's father kept records." He paused.
"Carr believed Elena had found those records.
That she was going to use them."
"Was she?"
"I don't know," he said.
"I was told she was.
I was told it was necessary." He looked down at the table.
"I am telling you this because I am not a man who k*lls children.
I want you to know that.
What happened to Lily was not—" His voice stopped.
"Don't," I said.
"Don't tell me what it was or wasn't."
I stood up.
"Harlan Voss," I said.
"Geneva."
Carr nodded once.
I left him sitting there with his wine and his careful hands and the weight of what he had just handed me.
Outside, Theo was on the phone.
He ended the call when he saw my face.
"Harlan Voss," I said.
Theo stared at me.
"How do you know that name?"
"You know it too," I said.
"He's connected to half the legitimate money in this city," Theo said slowly.
"Julian — if Voss ordered this—"
"Then we need more than Grace's statement and Vera's notes," I said.
"We need the records Elena's father kept.
The ones Voss was afraid of." I looked at Theo.
"Find out where Elena's father stored his documents.
Everything.
His house, his lawyer, his safety deposit boxes.
Everything."
Theo nodded.
May you like
I got in the car.
My hands, I noticed, were completely steady.
