I quickly scanned the room, as I always do at events like this, looking for guest faces like mine, counting the number of women, brown folks, anyone else who might be an “Other” like me. I was it. As usual. Nate’s party was a glimpse inside a lavish cross section of the world that reminded me of Coventry Academy: wealth that went beyond the imagination; people who eyed me like a party novelty; and just like Coventry, I was “the one.” The good one. The safe one.
Everyone mingled about, sipping Mo?t & Chandon, chatting and laughing as the waitstaff, all Black, served gravlax and caviar blinis from silver trays. Nate was already working the room like the silver-haired politician he could have been, patting people on the back and bending over in laughter, even teasing one of the board members about his tennis swing.
“There she is!” A booming voice echoed through the foyer behind me. I spun around and Hardy was already in motion, throwing both arms around me, swallowing me in a big bear hug.
“Oh, hey, Hardy,” I said, struggling against his flabby frame. He was sweating and, for a brief moment, I was slightly repulsed by his grip.
“A party the day after Michael’s funeral?” I said. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon for something like this when one of the company’s executives was murdered?”
“Hell, yeah, but do you think I’m going to tell the CEO when and where he can throw a party? I’m just here to make sure nobody touches a precious hair on the well-heeled heads of all these inebriated folks.” We both laughed.
“Point taken.”
“Hey, you want something to drink? Let me get you a glass of wine or something.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Hardy plucked a few bruschetta from a passing tray and popped at least two of them in his mouth at the same time. “So you heard about Michael?”
“Yeah. Have you talked to the police? Do they have any leads?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. That detective told me the only thing they have to go on is that it had to be somebody with access to the building. Brilliant, huh? But I think you were right about Mikey not liking guns. I think that’s what tipped the police off that they had a homicide and not a suicide.”
“That’s a lot of trouble for someone to go through. They wanted Michael dead without anyone asking questions.” I thought about Michael’s duffel bag at my house. Why would he have a flyer for a gun shop if he didn’t like guns and he didn’t kill himself?
“Unfortunately, Nate doesn’t want security cameras in the executive suite, so we don’t have any footage from Twenty.”
“Why doesn’t he want cameras on the twentieth floor?”
Hardy shook his head. “Something about everybody being family you can trust. Not a great idea for security protocol, if you ask me—the guy in charge of security. Like I said before, he’s the CEO. The big guy speaks, I just do as I’m told.”
Hardy polished off the last remnants of his bruschetta and swallowed. “One of my guys said Mikey was working pretty hard lately. Said he came into the office last Saturday and Sunday to work.”
“He did?” I tried to think back to last weekend. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d spent the night at my place Friday night, but he didn’t mention going into the office the next day. It was New Year’s weekend. I just assumed he was going home to be with his family.
Hardy continued, “I know he and Jonathan had their heads together over the past couple weeks. I tried to ask Jonathan about it but . . .” An older Black man passed by with a tray of chicken satay. I smiled and motioned no thanks to the server. Hardy took three off the tray.
“But what?”
“Let’s just say Jonathan was less than helpful.” Hardy popped a skewer into his mouth.
“What does that mean?”
“Said he and Mikey were working on some big deal, but he couldn’t go into it with me. That it was confidential work stuff.” Hardy downed another skewer. “But can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I looked around the room and scanned the door, a habit mostly. The same way I never liked to sit with my back to the door.
“What’s going to happen with the protesters and the EEOC stuff?”
“They’re lawyered up so most likely a lawsuit unless we can come to an agreement and settle. Why?”
“I heard a few of the folks on Twenty talking about it. Not everybody sees it the same way you do.”
“What do you mean?”