CHAPTER FIFTEEN M — A QUESTION ABOUT MONEY

Denise found me repairing the loose latch on Malik’s garden gate.
She waited until I had put down the screwdriver before speaking.
“I think I know why Graham was so desperate to open the new center,” she said.
“Because he had investors?”
“Because he had promised something he couldn’t deliver.”
Denise had worked briefly for a company that supplied scenery to Crescent Experience Partners.
The company had ordered expensive custom panels and then asked the supplier to delay payment.
At first, Denise assumed it was ordinary cash flow trouble.
Then she heard that Graham had sold advance bookings for the rotating platform to several touring productions.


“The bookings depend on the platform being operational,” she said.
“If it isn’t, he owes people money.”
I asked whether she had documents.
“I have my own invoices,” she replied.
“I won’t show you anybody else’s private information.”
That evening, we attended a public meeting where Graham addressed ticket holders.
He insisted the company had sufficient resources to honor its commitments.
Alisha asked whether refunds would be issued for canceled performances.
Graham said the company would review each case.
“That’s not an answer,” she replied.
He began talking about the project’s importance to local jobs.
Ellis stood near the back of the room and waited until Graham finished.


“How many workers will lose their jobs if the platform fails during a performance?” he asked.
Graham stared at him.
“You are not qualified to discuss our current equipment.”
“Then let your qualified engineers answer the questions,” Ellis replied.
The room broke into uneasy conversation.
Graham ended the meeting early.
Outside, Denise looked at the departing families.
“He keeps asking people to trust the future,” she said.
“He won’t account for what he’s already sold.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN N — THE QUIET WITNESS

A former theater cleaner named Marta Reyes called Ruth after seeing a photograph of the public meeting.
Marta had worked the night before Nora’s accident.


She remembered being told to clean the auditorium after midnight, long after the building normally closed.
When she arrived, the stage was turning slowly without performers.
A supervisor stood beside the control desk with a radio.
“He told me not to mop near the platform,” Marta said.
“I thought they were doing another rehearsal.”
Nora asked whether Marta had seen the supervisor’s face.
“Yes,” she answered.
“It was Graham Kessler.”
Marta had not understood the significance until she heard that the machine had injured a child the following afternoon.
She was willing to speak with investigators, but she feared being portrayed as someone who should have prevented the accident.


“I cleaned floors,” she said.
“Nobody trained me to inspect machinery.”
Nora touched her arm.
“Nobody is asking you to be an engineer.”
“Then why do they keep asking what I noticed?”
“Because you were there,” Nora replied.
“And people who were there have been told for years that what they saw didn’t matter.”
Marta looked down at her hands.
“The supervisor sounded angry,” she said.
“He kept saying they had one more day.”
She paused.
“I remember that because I wanted to finish cleaning and go home.”
After she left, Ruth sat beside the window with her cane across her knees.


“All those people were there,” she said.
“All those people knew pieces of it.”
I sat across from her.
“They didn’t all know the same thing.”
“No,” she agreed.
“And nobody gave them a safe place to put the pieces together.”