Griff glanced up from his notepad. “Party crashers?”

“Always. In those days, everybody went to the parties the Arlingtons threw. So you had the guests, invited and otherwise, and then in addition to the household staff, you had the caterers, which just happened to be a company the Arlingtons hadn’t used before. You had the musicians.” Copper shook his head. “You had a hell of a lot of people inside and out of the house all night long.”

“That clarifies a lot right there,” Griff said. “What I don’t understand is why there wasn’t any kind of security presence?”

Copper laughed. “It would never have occurred to the Arlingtons they needed security. That wouldn’t be quite nice would it? All those nasty men with guns?” Copper shook his head. “They don’t have security now, as far as I know. They have security systems, I guess. Well, I know that for a fact. If someone had gone for one of the safes or one of the Monets that night, all hell would have broken loose. But the heir apparent could be tucked under someone’s arm and carried out like a football—and nobody was the wiser.”

“That’s crazy.”

Copper shrugged and picked up his fork. “The Arlingtons live in a different world from you and me. Hell, they don’t even live in the same world as most rich people.”

The waitress came by and topped off Copper’s coffee. They flirted amiably for a minute or two, she replaced Griff’s empty glass with another vanilla Coke and moved to the next booth.

Copper said, “The other issue, and I personally don’t think the cops can be blamed for this, is it took everyone a while to realize the kid hadn’t just wandered off. He apparently used to do that, so the initial fear was he’d fallen into the pool or a pond or a stream or was lost in the ornamental woods they have out there. The focus was on searching the grounds. Initially nobody was thinking kidnapping.”

“Until the ransom note came?”

“Yeah. The ransom note arrived around noon the following day. By then everyone was worked up into a frenzy. The mother was convinced the boy was dead, but then the note arrived and that put a more sinister light on the situation, but it also gave hope that maybe Brian was okay.”

Griff said, “Am I wrong? It seemed to me that the tone of your articles was...”

Copper said, “I was in the minority, but I was never convinced Johnson was lying. For one thing, if he did kidnap Brian, you’d think he’d come up with a better story.”

“Criminals aren’t always the smartest guys in the room.”

“You’re right about that, and Johnson is definitely no genius. Even so, I don’t know. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I believed him, but I didn’t disbelieve him. You see what I mean? If he was involved, he wasn’t the mastermind.”

“Who do you think the mastermind was?”

Griff threw it out there. He wasn’t really expecting an answer, so it was a surprise to hear Copper’s prompt, “The youngest girl, Michaela.”

“You’re kidding.”

Copper shook his head. “No, my friend, I’m not. The girl was up to her ears in it. It didn’t get into the papers—that was Mather Senior’s good work again—but she had something going on with the chauffeur. And afterwards they couldn’t ship her out west fast enough. My theory is either she put Johnson up to it, or Johnson knew what she was after and tried to cash in on it. And maybe cover for her. Or maybe not.”

“What would be in it for her though? She can’t have been short of cash.”

“She didn’t have access to her trust fund yet, so I think cash could have been a motive. I think she wanted out from under the old man’s thumb. Which she did get after the fact. She had that kid Chloe out of wedlock. Kloppel was the name of her first husband, but he wasn’t Chloe’s father. That was all afterwards.”

“I’m getting lost here,” Griff said. “You think Michaela arranged for Brian to be kidnapped in order to finance her escape from the family compound?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I doubt she intended any harm to come to Brian. I’m not saying she’s a monster. But back then she was as wild as they come. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. She wanted out, but old man Arlington wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted she learn to be a good mother and a responsible citizen.” Copper grimaced. “So much for that.”

“So the local theory is Michaela was behind the kidnapping?”

“It’s more like the alternative version. The people who don’t believe Johnson had the brains to plot something like that believe Michaela was the driving force. Like I said, I’m inclined to agree. Needless to say it wasn’t the view of the Arlingtons or the police.”

“That’s some theory.”

“If you really are going to interview Johnson, you’ll have a chance to decide for yourself. See if you don’t agree.”

As hard to believe as Copper’s theory was, it was one explanation for why Brian had been grabbed rather than Chloe.

“Did you know Mather’s two kids were in the room next to the nursery that night?”

Copper stared at him. “No. Where did you hear that?”

“Pierce Mather told me himself. They were watching TV and eating shrimp puffs or something. He claims they didn’t see or hear anything, but I thought it was strange it was never mentioned anywhere.”

Copper thought it over. “I’ll guarantee you no one ever knew. Or at least I never got a whiff of that. They were minors. I guess in a way it makes sense their folks scrambled to keep their names out of the papers.”

“Out of the papers, sure,” Griff said. “I’m just wondering what else they were kept out of.”

* * *

The cops at the Second Precinct were cooperating, but it was clearly as a courtesy to the Arlingtons.

Griff didn’t take it personally. He understood that an unsolved, high-profile crime, especially one in which a child was the victim, was always going to be a sore spot for law enforcement. He pored over reports and crime scene photos, drank several cups of bad coffee, and found himself no further ahead.

Benjamin Copper’s memory was accurate. The initial call had come in as a 10-31 missing/lost child. The assumption had been that Brian had woken during the night, heard the music and had wandered off in search of his mother. The only items missing from his room—his robe, his slippers and a small stuffed bear known as Tiny Teddy—seemed to support that theory. Brian’s parents described him as “smart and self-reliant.” Hope had been high that the child would be swiftly and safely recovered.

By breakfast, optimism had given way to dread, and the ponds and streams on the estate were being dragged.

In Griff’s opinion it was typical that from the instant the ransom note had arrived, police had focused their attention on the Arlington household—meaning The Help. The lead investigating officer had been a Detective Woody Hinder. Hinder had retired and moved to Florida in 2000. According to the stout female sergeant who brought Griff the storage box of files on the Arlington case, at one time Hinder had considered writing a book about his experiences investigating the Arlington kidnapping, but once again Thomas Mather had acted to convince the former detective otherwise.

Under Hinder’s directive the domestic staff had been thoroughly investigated, financial records checked, and all possible connections—family and friends and business acquaintances—followed to trail’s end.

Griff had to give Hinder credit. Even before the FBI arrived, Hinder and his team had uncovered several promising lines of inquiry including Mr. Tuppalo’s poor credit rating and bounced checks, Mr. Newland’s fondness for betting on the ponies, and Mrs. Cameron’s faked references. Mrs. Truscott—known then as Miss Wilma Truscott—had a younger sister who had died in a mental institution. Mrs. Woolly, the cook, had been widowed twice in household accidents. And of course there was Johnson’s criminal record, which a week earlier had resulted in his losing his position as chauffeur. According to Johnson it was this injustice that had triggered the ransom demand after Brian had gone missing.