La Dernière Cène

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"So, what have you found out?" Jeremy Willakers pushed up the bridge of his sunglasses and twined his hands together on his trim stomach, leaning back in his leather swivel chair.

Bethany shook her head. "I haven't found anything out for sure yet, sir." Seeing his look of censure, she added quickly, "But I have made some progress. We went on our first date last night."

Jeremy nodded pensively. "And did he say anything...conspicuous? Anything at all?"

She thought back, but could think of nothing that was conclusive. "I mean, he took me to this underground restaurant and he said he had a lot of business meetings there." She sighed, frustrated that she had been here for nearly five weeks with no concrete results. "I know it isn't much to go on, but the way he said it was kind of sketchy. Maybe you should watch it or something?"

Jeremy sighed as well, but pulled a pen out of the container next to his name plate and asked, "What was the name of the restaurant?"

Bethany tried to get the name right, but was sure it was horribly botched. "La Derner Sen? Some French name like that."

Mr. Willakers looked up at her again, his mouth slightly ajar. "La Dernière Cène? I see..." he trailed off ominously. "I'll see that someone is made aware of Mr. McDermott's arrangements there."

"Wait...Mr. Willakers. Is there something wrong with that place?" The way he said the name reminded her of the deferential way one would refer to a plague.

He studied her for a moment, but finally nodded. "Do you know what that means, Ms. James: la dernière cène?" She shook her head, and he nodded again, as though he had anticipated her answer. "About four years ago, a man by the name of Ignace le Blanc was invited to the home of the most renowned wine collector in New York, a man named Cyril Natesh. There was a long-standing feud between the le Blanc and Natesh families, but Cyril decided to let Ignace choose one of his prized bottles from his wine cellar as a peace offering. The night came, and they met at Cyril's house to eat a lavish dinner, before they finally made it down to the cellar. When they got there, Ignace began peering through the shelves, looking for a bottle worthy of ending their life-long battle, but before he found one, Cyril received a phone call and excused himself to take it. When he returned, the room was engulfed in white fire, and he was unable to save Ignace le Blanc from the flames."

Bethany's gaze widened. "Wow. That...that's terrible." She paused, letting the truth of the story sink in. Before she had time to question the story's significance, Jeremy continued.

"Yes, it was. No one can prove how the fire was started, or tie the death to any one particular person. However, we have uncovered evidence that Cyril Natesh made contact with Trenton McDermott a few months prior to the incident, and our agency has been unable to pin down where he was on the evening it occurred. Again, we have no evidence that he was directly involved, but it is just one of the situations that lead us to believe he is, indeed, a criminal mastermind."

Bethany's heart beat quickly in her chest, but she did not allow it to travel to her voice when she asked, "So, what does it mean? La Dernière Cène?"

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