“Have a seat.” Stacy motioned to the chair across from hers.
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“It’s your kitchen.” Stacy closed her laptop, stood and got herself a cup of coffee. The woman sat, but not before bringing out a tin of gourmet chocolate cookies.
Stacy helped herself to one, then returned to her seat. “How long have you worked for the Nobles?”
“A little over seventeen years.”
“You must like your job.”
She didn’t reply, and Stacy got the impression that she’d stepped over some line. Or that the woman just didn’t trust Stacy with an answer.
“I’m not a spy,” she said softly. “Just making conversation.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You moved with them. That must have been a difficult decision to make.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Not that hard. I don’t have a family of my own.”
Stacy thought of Jane. “Not even siblings?”
“Not even.”
The Nobles were her family.
The woman gazed into her coffee for a moment, then met Stacy’s eyes once more. “Why are you here? Not as a technical assistant.”
“No.”
“It has something to do with those cards. And that weird message.”
“Yes.”
“Should I be afraid?”
Stacy thought a moment. She wanted to be honest with the woman, but there was a razor’s edge between educating and alarming. “Be careful. Watchful.”
She nodded, expression relieved, brought a cookie to her mouth, then set it down, untasted. “It’s changed around here. It’s not the way-” She bit the thought back. Stacy didn’t push.
“I’ve been with the family since before Alice was born. She was such a cute baby. A sweet child. So smart. She-”
Again, she bit her words back. Stacy sensed a deep sadness in the woman. “The house used to be filled with laughter. You wouldn’t recognize Mr. and Mrs. Noble. And Alice. She-”
The housekeeper looked at her watch and stood. “I better get back to work.”
Stacy reached up and touched her hand. “Alice is a teenager now. It’s a difficult time. For them. And those who love them.”
The woman looked startled. She shook her head. “It’s not what you think. When they stopped laughing, so did Alice.”
Clearly uncomfortable, she picked up her cup and carried it to the sink. She dumped the contents, rinsed it and stuck it in the dishwasher.
“Mrs. Maitlin?”
The woman glanced back. “May I call you by your first name?”
She smiled. “That’d be nice. It’s Valerie.”
Stacy watched her go, frowning over what she had said. What had the Nobles been like seventeen years ago? Why had they divorced? They cared deeply for each other, that was obvious. They were committed to each other and Alice, also obvious. In essence, they still lived together.
When they stopped laughing, so did Alice.
She glanced at her laptop, then stood and headed out into the bright day. The idea of working on her paper didn’t appeal, and a quick spin around the property every hour or two was a good thing.
She lifted her face to the sky. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon. It looked as if the sunny afternoon would give way to a stormy evening.
At present, the security guys were installing the new system. Troy was chatting with one of them while he took a cigarette break. Previously, the driver had been sunning himself in a lawn chair. He’d hung his yellow polo shirt on the chair’s back. She realized she’d only seen him fully clothed a handful of times.
She smiled to herself. As near as she could tell, Troy had pretty much the least stressful job on earth. He hung around, waiting for Leo to need him for something-run an errand, drive him someplace. He sunned, he washed the cars, he smoked.
Tough life. She wondered at the man’s salary and where she could apply.
The installation tech put out his smoke and went back to work. Troy caught sight of her and smiled, his teeth almost startlingly white against his tanned face.
“Hi, Stacy,” he said.
She stopped. “Hi, Troy. Keeping busy?”
“You know, typical day.” He motioned to the workman. “That’s a high-tech system they’re putting in. The dude was trying to explain it to me.” Troy shrugged, indicating he hadn’t really gotten it. “Mr. Noble, if he’s going to have something, it’s going to be state of the art. Only the best.” He scratched his chest, the movement almost absentminded. “I don’t know why he’s doing it, though. I’m pretty much always around. I keep an eye on things.”
“Maybe it’s for the times you’re not?”
He nodded, drawing his eyebrows together. Something in his expression suggested that, like her, he was thinking of Saturday and the message Leo had been left.
Whoever had done it had slipped in and out during the hour he and the housekeeper had been gone.
He fell silent, as if with thought. After a moment, he looked at her. “What’s going on? The new system. Alice moving into the main house. You. Has someone threatened Leo or Alice?”
“Someone’s playing a sick game,” she said. “Leo’s just being cautious.”
He stared at her a moment. They both knew she wasn’t being completely truthful. But he didn’t call her on it.
He shrugged and started back toward his chair. “If you need anything, I’m here.”
She watched as he settled in, then glanced up at the second-floor windows.
And found Alice staring down at her.
Stacy lifted her hand to acknowledge the girl. Instead of returning the friendly gesture, Alice flounced off.
Stacy shook her head in partial amusement. It seemed she didn’t have to do much of anything to offend young Ms. Noble. She was beginning to suspect that just her breathing did it.
Tough nuts, kiddo. You’re stuck with me.
CHAPTER 37
Monday, March 14, 2005
6:10 p.m.
Shannon’s Tavern, a blue-collar bar and NOPD hangout, was located in the area of the city called the Irish Channel. Run by a mountain of a man named Shannon, the bar was a fine place to wait out a storm.
If you made it inside before the storm struck.
Spencer and Tony hadn’t. They burst into the tavern, bringing the wind and rain with them. Shannon took one look at them and shook his head. “Cops.”
“Blame John Jr.,” Spencer said, catching the towel the barkeep tossed him. He dried his hair first, then the rest of himself, as best he could, anyway. A call from John Jr. had, indeed, gotten this particular ball rolling. Their mother and father’s fiftieth wedding anniversary was only six months off; they needed to start planning immediately. That John Jr. had been the one to remember hadn’t been a surprise. As oldest of the brood, John Jr. always played the role of the conscientious one.
And thank God he did. With seven of them to organize and corral, it took someone willing to own the job.
Tony had come along because Betty and Carly were shopping for a prom dress, and he was on his own for dinner.
Shannon served more than ice-cold beer; he cooked up some of the best burgers in the city-big, juicy and priced to fit a cop’s wallet.
Quentin and his wife Anna arrived next. Spencer couldn’t have special-ordered a better sister-in-law. He credited her with giving Quentin the confidence to follow his dreams. The rest of the family felt the same way about her as he did.
“Yo, little bro,” Quentin said, slapping him on the back. “Shannon, draft and a mineral water.”
“Anna.” Spencer kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek, then held her at arm’s length. “You look wonderful.”
Three months pregnant with their first child, she radiated joy.
“How’s the writing biz?”
“Murder,” she said, tone dry. “As usual.”
Anna was a successful suspense novelist. She knew Tony through Quentin and happily took the bar stool beside the older cops.