In Death 26 - Strangers in Death

“I had that terrible thought, not when I found him that morning, you understand. Not then. Not even that night, or the next morning. But…with so much time on my hands, so much time to think instead of work, I began to have those thoughts. Those terrible thoughts. To wonder.”
    “Why?”
    “There was affection, gestures—on both sides. An indulgence on both sides. You would see this and think they are nicely married. Comfortably married, you understand?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “If she encouraged him to go out, play his golf, or attend his games, how could you fault her? If she encouraged him to take his trips, even to extend them, it would be natural enough. Women come to prize their solitude, especially when they’re long married. A little time without the man underfoot.”
    “The reasonable, loving, indulgent wife.”
    “Yes. Yes, exactly what it would seem. But, in fact, she was happier when he was gone than she was when he was home, and the longer he was gone, the happier she would be. This is my opinion,” Greta hastened to add. “My sense only.”
    “That’s what I’m after.”
    “I would sense an annoyance in her on the day he was scheduled to return. I could sense it even as she fussed about what meal to serve him to welcome him home. When he was gone, she would have dinner parties or cocktails with her friends. Friends of hers, you understand, that were not so much friends of his. And never with Mr. Benedict.”
    Greta paused, pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment, then folded her hands neatly in her lap again. “I might not be saying this to you if she hadn’t instructed me to clear his clothes out of his dressing room, as she might instruct me to see that the floors were polished. Just another household task. I might not be telling you this if I didn’t know she saw the disapproval I didn’t hide quickly enough. And seeing it, Lieutenant, her manner changed. Her voice thickened with the tears that came into her eyes. But it was too late. I’d seen the other, heard the other, so it was too late. It was then she asked me to help at Mrs. Plowder’s, and told me what she would pay for my time, which is more than it should be. It was then she told me I would have a raise in salary when I returned to work tomorrow, and that she depended on me to help her through this difficult time.”
    Greta looked down at the hands folded in her lap, nodded. “It was then, Lieutenant, I decided I would begin to look for other employment. Only this morning, I contacted an agency for this purpose.”
    “She miscalculated with you, Greta. Will you be able to go to the memorial, to the Plowders, to go back to work, for the time being, without letting her see what you think or feel?”
    The faintest smile touched Greta’s mouth. “I’m a domestic, Lieutenant. I’m very skilled at keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself.”
    “I appreciate you sharing them with me.” Eve rose, held out a hand.
    Getting to her feet, Greta took it, then held it. And held Eve’s eyes. “We may be unfair to Mrs. Anders. But if we aren’t, I trust you, Lieutenant, to make justice for Mrs. Anders.”
    “I’m good at my job, too.”
    “Yes, I believe you are.”
    Rather than cab it all the way back to Roarke’s office, Eve flipped out her ’link as she hit the street again. The transmission bounced straight to his admin. “Hey, Caro, could—”
    “Hello, Lieutenant.”
    “Yeah.” Was she supposed to make small talk? Hadn’t she done that enough already? “Well…sorry to interrupt. Maybe you could tell Roarke I’ll meet him at the memorial.”
    “If you’d hold a moment, I’ll put you right through to him.”
    “But—” Too late, she thought with a roll of her eyes as the calming blue wait screen came on her screen.
    And, as advertised, a moment later Roarke’s vivid blue eyes replaced the calm. “Just called to chat?”
    “Yeah, it’s just talk, talk, talk with me. Listen, I just wanted to leave a message that I’ll meet you at the memorial. It’s still too early, so I’m going to duck into a cyber-café or something, get a little work done, then cab it over.”
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m over on Third, heading down to Fifty-fourth. So—”
    “Wait there.”
    “Listen—” Too late, she thought again, as this time her screen went blank. “Wait there,” she mumbled and jammed the ’link back in her pocket. Wait so he could drive across town to pick her up when she was