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“Yeah, what else is he going to say? But…” Emily hesitated. “This is probably a big nothing.”
“But?”
“But you know how everyone keeps talking about how Cecelia the supermodel was murdered?”
“Right.”
“I was thinking—what about her son? Clay. Clay was killed too.”
“The theory is that he was trying to defend her.”
“Right, I know. And that’s why I don’t think this is a big deal.”
“But?”
“But I’m just trying to connect all the dots,” Emily said. Then, thinking better of it, she said, “I don’t mean connecting. There’s no connection. Just dots.”
“But?” Myron tried again.
“Cecelia was married to Ben Staples. Greg and I went out with them a few times. I told you that.”
“Right. And you said Greg liked him.”
“Yes. Look, you’re asking for something, right? Anything?”
“Go ahead.”
“Cecelia and I had lunch at the Palm Court. This was, what, twenty-five years ago? She told me she’d been raped. That wasn’t the word she used. I mean, being a supermodel back in that era. The shit men did to you. The shit she took.”
“Who raped her?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Did you ask?”
“Of course I asked,” Emily snapped. “But it was a different world back then. Cecelia was trying to move into acting. A producer invited her up to his hotel room. Now we know all about it, but back then? Me Too wasn’t even a glimmer in the eye. Cecelia actually tried to laugh it off. Like it was no big deal. I remember taking her hand, telling her we should go to someone. Get her help. She shook me off. She forced up a smile on that beautiful face and insisted she was fine. But she wasn’t. She withdrew. I tried to call her a few times, but she stopped talking to me. Next thing I know she’s pregnant and getting divorced from Ben.”
“So you think…?”
“I don’t think anything,” Emily said. “But you asked me to rack my brain, and I started thinking back. I should have done more for her. Why did she confide in me, Myron? We weren’t all that close. It had to be because she wanted help, right? I should have made her go to the police, but the truth is, nobody would have cared. She’d have been ruined. That’s what I thought too at the time: If she goes forward… I mean, they would have said she went to a man’s hotel room voluntarily, what did she expect?”
Emily hugged herself then, standing there in the very-white nightgown, looking up at Myron with something he couldn’t quite read in her eyes. Myron wasn’t sure how to play it, so he went with the obvious straight-up question.
“Did you tell Greg about it?”
“About Cecelia being raped?”
“Yes.”
“No, not a word. She told me in confidence. But when Cecelia and Ben got divorced, like I said, Greg liked Ben. We got him in the divorce, as they say. Ben couldn’t believe she’d do something like this to him—divorce him while having his child.”
Myron said nothing.
“Anyway, Greg was pissed off about it.”
“But not so pissed off he’d carry a grudge for, what, more than two decades and then kill her?”
“Uh no. Like I said, dots. Nothing connecting them.”
