“You show up tonight, and I’ll have the management throw you out into the street.”

“I will be sitting at table twenty-two,” I said.

“You step into that dining room, and I destroy Clare’s wedding,” Gerald said, and hung up.

I set the phone back on the glass table and took a slow breath.

David Vance stepped around the lobby pillar behind my armchair, holding a thin blue document folder.

He had his coat over his arm and his cufflinks set neatly in his cuffs.

“He still thinks his check controls the building.”