"Where's the husband?" she asked.'
"He's on his way."
"From where?"
"One of his restaurants. I don't know which one. He has an alibi. He was with a chef."
April didn't respond to that. She knew chefs were notorious for saying anything that came to their heads. Her father and his cronies could lie like rugs. "Mike, I don't want to start anything I can't finish," she said slowly.
"Look, just help me out for an hour or so. Talk to the nanny and check back with me, okay. I won't embroil you, I promise."
April shook her head. They both knew that wasn't the way it worked. "Okay, I'll talk with the nanny," she said.
Six
Remy Banks was still shaking. She'd seen plenty of dead people and dead animals in her time, especially in her childhood in Wyoming. Gruesome things. Cattle and dogs that had their intestines ripped out by wolves. Once she'd seen a video of a grizzly bear mauling a human being. The whole thing had been caught on tape. A stupid tourist had thought he could chase a huge bear away from his campsite with some pot-banging, and then a few potshots from his rifle. The bear retaliated by trying to eat him. It seemed there was always someone around to photograph a freak thing like that. She'd seen the video back home, but the bear mauling could now be found on the Internet. A cautionary tale.
Remy had also seen kids who'd frozen to death. When she was a teenager, two ten-year-olds had broken through thin ice on the river in late winter and gotten stuck. A freak thing. She went through her list of accidental deaths. In summer people used to die by drowning even in the shallows, on raft trips, probably still did. Queer things happened. Out West there were a lot of unnatural ways to meet one's maker. Everybody had guns. Remy was used to guns. Every year there'd be shootings, accidental and otherwise. And then, there were the kitchen accidents. When she'd worked as a line cook in a steak house in Salt Lake City, she'd seen really bad cuts, bad burns. Bleeding into the hamburgers on the grill, a line cook would just keep on getting those orders out, or lose his job. But Maddy's face . . . the place where her eye should have been . . . Remy couldn't stop shaking.
"You gonna be okay now?" The detective called Minnow who'd been questioning her closed his notebook.
Remy stared at him. Anybody could see she was not okay. He looked like an actor on one of the cop shows, somebody's idea of a cop. He had a round face and pasty skin, a bulging stomach. If she'd been in a better mood, she would have ana" lyzed his diet by how he looked. She thought of things like that. How people ate. He was clearly way past forty, which was the same to her as being a hundred.
"Roomy?" He missed a lot of things, couldn't even say her name right.
"Fine. I'm fine." Remy's head bobbed up and down. She could tell that sergeant didn't believe a word she said. She turned toward the garden, toward the gym where Maddy—where the body— still was. She wondered where Wayne was. Poor Wayne was going to freak out. But she was freaking out, too. Neither of them deserved this. The boys didn't deserve it. No one did. She didn't want to tell the police that she was having a relationship with her boss. They wouldn't understand how it really was. Jo Ellen had already chewed her out for what she called "alienating" Wayne's affections. She told Remy to keep quiet about what occurred in the privacy of her clients' homes. Shit, how could she be private about this?
Remy's thoughts drifted back to the early morning when she'd gotten up so happily to make the pancakes, and Maddy's outrageous reaction. Then Wayne told her in the car that she'd have to try to make up with her if she wanted to keep her job. But when she got back, she couldn't smooth things over with Maddy because Maddy was dead. What was she supposed to do now? Remy wasn't aware that time was passing. She was thinking about her life out West, about what had made her move East, about her uncertain future here in New York. She retreated deep inside herself and didn't realize Sergeant Minnow had been replaced.
"Remy? I'm Lieutenant Sanchez."
Startled by the soft voice behind her, Remy turned around to face a woman about her own size. The woman was wearing a deep purple pantsuit and a gun in a holster at her waist. She didn't look like a cop, or Latina, for that matter. She looked like a model, or a talk-show host. Glamorous. Remy's spirits lifted at the sight of her. "Hi."
"I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes."
Remy was still shaking. She had no place to go. The boys wouldn't be through with play school until three. She wondered what would happen to them. Her thoughts started drifting again, and tears filled her eyes.
"You were the one to find Mrs.—?"
"I called her Maddy," Remy said, wanting to set the record straight. She wasn't a maid.
"Okay." The woman took out a notebook.
Remy was distracted by it. Minnow had had one, too. It seemed so old-fashioned. "What do you want to know?" she asked meekly.
"Pretty much everything. What happened today. What the family is like. Your role here. Anything you can think of."
Remy nodded and tried to remember what she'd already said. "I already told—" Remy looked blank. Suddenly she couldn't remember his name.
"Sergeant Minnow. I know, but maybe I can help you." The woman smiled as if they were girlfriends.
"Help me?" Remy swallowed. How could anyone help her? The whole thing was a big mess.
"We'll work together. We'll figure it out, okay? Why don't we sit down?" The glamorous lieutenant led the way to a silver sofa.
Remy shook her head. Maddy didn't like her or the children sitting in the living room. Then she remembered that Maddy couldn't tell her what to do anymore. Still, she felt uncomfortable sitting there in her kitchen jeans. She tried to focus on the first question.
"Did you like Maddy?"
"Of course, I liked her. Everybody liked her. She didn't have any enemies." That was what people said on "TV. She said it without thinking.
"You two got along pretty well?"
"Yeah. She was a dream to work for. What will happen to the boys? I'm supposed to pick them up at three." Remy knotted her fingers together.
"We'll see about that later. Tell me what happened this morning. Anything out of the ordinary?"
"Not really. Maddy had her usual temper tantrum. Wayne and 1 took the boys to play school at quarter to eight. I didn't see Maddy after that. Alive, 1 mean."
"Why did she have a temper tantrum?"
Remy sighed. "She was upset because 1 made breakfast."
"Why would that upset her?"
"I don't know. It's my job. 1 guess she was jealous because she can't cook." She shrugged.
"You said she was a dream to work for."
"Most of the time she was." Remy rubbed her nose.
"Then what happened?"
"Oh,'it was nothing. She made a fuss, and then Wayne and 1 took the boys to play school."
"Do you and Wayne always take the - boys to play school?"
"No. Usually 1 take them. But today was the first day of the summer session."
"And Maddy didn't want to go?"
"She has her trainer at eight. She never misses that. "
"Every day?"
"No, three days a week." A muscle jumped in her eye. Remy blinked to stop it.
"Uh-huh." Lieutenant Sanchez wrote that down and moved on. "What happened in the car?"
"Wayne told me she would calm down by the time 1 got home and not to worry about it."
"Did he say why not?"
She made a face. "He told me to make up with her."
"Did you come right back to the house to do' that?"
"No. Wayne took me to Soleil first. He wanted to show me some new equipment he'd gotten."