Page 28 of One Last Goodbye

I pause and try to decipher her piercing emerald eyes. I can feel the ice under my feet cracking, but I still can’t find out where the danger is coming from. “Yes.”

“And during your stay with them, you eventually learned that Cecilia Ashford was responsible for the murder of her husband?”

“That’s correct.”

She nods in satisfaction as though I've just confirmed a suspicion. "Next, you worked for the Carlton in the Cotswolds in England, correct?"

“Yes, and the Tylers in Cheshire after that, and the Greenwoods in Savannah.”

“And you solved the mystery of Minerva Montclair’s murder in the Cotswolds and Lila Benson’s murder in Savannah.”

“All true, but what does that have to do with the Jensens?”

“That’s what I’m curious about. There was no murder here prior to your arrival. So why did you agree to work for them?”

I stare at her incredulously. “Do you seriously believe I choose families based on whether there’s a murder for me to solve?”

She lifts her fingers off of the table and then sets them down again. "You must admit the pattern is intriguing."

“What pattern? My longest place of employment was for the Tyler family. I was there for five months, and no one died there.”

“That’s true,” she allows. “But still, it’s odd.”

“How?” I challenge. “How is it odd?”

“Let’s move on,” she demurs. “Do you believe that Frederick Jensen’s suicide is related to his illicit business activities?”

“I don’t—” I stop myself. I nearly say that I don’t believe that Frederick was murdered. Instead, I say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t privy to his business activities.”

Inspector Moreau meets my eyes and says nothing. I hold her gaze and return the favor. I am not easily intimidated in conversation, and whatever Moreau thinks she’s going to learn from staring at me, she is sorely mistaken.

Finally, she sighs. “Very well. That is all for now, Miss Wilcox.”

I stand and turn to leave, and she calls after me, “You will be remaining with the Jensens, yes?”

I turn to her. “Yes.”

She nods. “Very well. Thank you, Miss Wilcox. We may speak again.”

I sincerely hope not.“Have a good day, Inspector.”

I leave the interview confused. What could they possibly feel I have to do with this? The connections Moreau is trying to draw between my wealth, my previous employment and Frederick’s death are just absurd. What is she trying to suggest, that I have made it a quest of mind to bring down those wealthier than myself?

I will need to move more quickly. The dogs are watching me, and if their attention remains on me for too long, the wolf will escape. I can’t allow that to happen. One way or another, the real murderer of Frederick Jensen will face justice.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Interpol agents remain in the house for the better part of the day. Moreau doesn’t pull me aside anymore, and thankfully she has the decency to leave the children alone. We watch movies in the theater all day again, and from time to time, Sophie brings us snacks.

The children are joyless, of course. The movies give them somewhere to direct their eyes, but that's it. At some point, they will need to address their grief and find a healthy way to come to terms with it, but as long as their house is overrun with law enforcement, they won't be able to do so.

I admit I’m little help. I’m so shaken by the events of yesterday and today that I can only stare at the screen myself.

Finally, around dinnertime, Sophie informs me that Interpol has left. I rouse the children and take them to the dining room for dinner.

Their mother is there. Catherine sits at the head of the table, rubbing her temples, an irritated frown on her face. When she sees the children, she smiles, but she seems annoyed by their presence more than anything else.

The children notice this, and I feel their walls come up. Ethan is expressionless, while Olivia stares at her mother with naked contempt bordering on hate.

---