“Yes. Circumstances have changed.”
“Took you long enough.”
Mervyn takes a few steps to the right, like he’s pacing with agitation, before adjusting his position to face the camera. “Maybe I don’t enjoy being blackmailed.”
Wait, Bernie wasblackmailinghim? Surely he could have found time to mention that detail? I’m tempted to unmute my phone long enough for a quickMervyn, my dude. What the hell?
“Don’t be dramatic,” Bernie scoffs. “It was a simple statement of fact. You could either get out of the way or get on board—and earn a nice bonus.”
“A bribe, you mean.”
She shrugs this off like he accused her of littering. “It’s how deals get done.”
“By betraying the people I care about?” It’s a courtroom-style zinger that I hope Mervyn will follow up by turning the conversation to Bradley.
“It takes a strong stomach to succeed in business,” Bernie replies, not taking the bait.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” His line readings are ashade too stagey, but it’s not like his scene partner is super into naturalism. And it’s better for our purposes if he goes for it, instead of letting her dominate the conversation.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she sniffs.
Mervyn pulls out the chair next to hers. “You’ve already won, so let’s drop the pretense. Bradley came to see you that day.” He presents this as fact rather than a question, exactly as Grandma Lainey coached him. “Did he tell you about his plans for this place?”
“Plans? Bradley? Please.” There isn’t an ounce of amusement in her laugh. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Bradley had no idea what he was doing. He was not a serious person. I suspect he would have been a liability to the project, had he lived.”
“I suppose so, considering he wanted to replace it with something completely different.”
Her glare is so fierce, you can almost feel the heat of it through the wall. “That was a silly idea he would have forgotten about in time.”
Mervyn settles back in his chair with a consideringhmmm.He is really working the Sherlock vibe, like he knows everything and is waiting for her to catch up.
“Did you argue?” he asks.
“Did I argue withBradley? Why would I do that?” Despite the eye rolling, it’s not quite a denial.
“When he came over that morning to tell you about his vision. That must have been upsetting. To think you were so close to getting what you wanted, only to lose it all.”
“It was childish nonsense! No one was going to take that seriously. A frat house for adults? Honestly. His father would have shut him down.”
“And yet I heard he was ready to greenlight BRO Town.” To Mervyn’s credit, he stumbles only slightly over the name.
“You didn’t know Bradley. As soon as something new caught his eye, that would have been the end of it. I asked him to do one small favor for me, and he bungled it. Who doesn’t know the difference between an antiques dealer and a thrift store?”
Felix grabs my arm and squeezes. I’m sure we’re both thinking the same thing: his grandfather’s painting! Though that doesn’t solve the mystery of what happened to the rest of them.
“Still, it must have been upsetting. Tea?” Mervyn holds up the pot, his voice soft and solicitous. It’s like he’s doing a one-man good cop/bad cop.
Bernie inclines her head. “No sugar for me. I’m sweet enough.”
Beside me, Felix mimes sticking a finger down his throat.
“So what happened?” Mervyn asks, handing her the cup. His tone is coaxing, like he knows she has the good gossip.
Bernie hesitates before taking a sip. “How should I know? Ask the police.”
“And your cup?” he asks with a suddenness that tells me he’s trying to catch her off guard.
“What do you mean?” Bernie frowns at the teacup in her hand.
