Page 27 of One Last Goodbye

Moreau turns into the small foyer where I first met the Jensen family. A folding table and two chairs are set up inside the room. She takes one of the chairs and gestures for me to sit in the other one.

“Thank you for speaking to me,” she says perfunctorily. “Do you mind if I record this session?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do not.”

“Then why ask?” I mutter as I take my seat.

“To be polite.” She turns the recorder on and says, “State your name for the record.”

“Mary Wilcox.”

“And what is your relationship with the deceased?”

“I am governess to his children.”

“How long have you worked with the Jensens?”

“Eight days as of today.”

“And have you noticed any discrepancies in your pay?”

I blink. “My pay?”

“Yes. I assume you are paid weekly?”

Heat climbs my cheeks. To be honest, I can’t remember how often I’m paid. I don’t work these governess jobs because I need money, so I usually give my account for direct deposits and then forget about the pay.

“Miss Wilcox?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you sure if your pay is correct? It seems like something you should know.”

The heat in my cheeks intensifies. “It’s not really something I think about. I don’t really need the money.”

She nods. “Yes, that’s true. Your father left you three million dollars when he died, and due to successful investments, that sum is closer to eight million dollars. Is that correct?”

“I’m not sure what my personal finances have to do with anything,” I say curtly.

“Neither am I. I just find it interesting that an independently wealthy woman would seek employment as a servant in wealthy people’s homes.”

“Do you also find it interesting that an independently wealthy woman would continue working as a public school teacher for fifteen years after her father’s death? Or that shewould live in an apartment when she could afford a well-appointed home?”

“Yes, but not so interesting as the sudden decision to leave that job and seek employment almost exclusively for wealthy families with suspicious histories.”

I don’t answer right away. I feel as if I’m being led on, but I’m not sure where. “I’ve answered your question about my relationship with Frederick Jensen. What other questions do you have?”

She leans back and takes off her glasses. "Your first place of employment was with the Ashford family in New York, correct?"

“I don’t see why—”

“Humor me.”

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