Priya guided us into the private lounge. It was small and quiet, with blue velvet chairs and a low table set beneath a painting of a winter harbor. The noise of the gala faded when the door closed.
A server brought Mila apple juice and a plate of small sandwiches. She climbed onto a chair and placed the paper necklace carefully beside her plate.
I sat across from Priya.
Bianca remained near the door.
“Why is she here?” I asked.
Priya looked at Bianca.
“Because I want her account of what happened.”
“I’ve already told you,” Bianca said. “Adrian instructed me to reserve the suite for his family. A woman and a boy arrived around six. He told me they were not to be disturbed.”
“What woman?” I asked again.
Bianca looked toward Priya.
Priya answered.
“Her name is Claire Bennett.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Who is she?”
