Page 53 of One Last Goodbye

She crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then lifts them in the air and squeezes them into fists. I wait patiently. I understand that this is a difficult situation for her, and I don’t feel a need to make it any harder.

“Oh,God!”she finally cries. “You had no right to do this! Why did you interfere in my life?”

My sympathy wanes somewhat. “The father of your children was murdered, Mrs. Jensen. I didn’t want his killer to get away.”

“Oh, you…”

She presses her lips together, then looks at me with hate. It’s not hate, really. It’s anger. Even simpler than that. It’s grief. She thought she was finally going to get a life she could love. That chance is gone.

“Okay,” she says brittlely. "We'll wait for the police. You can stay here until the storm breaks. Then, whatever you have to tell the police, you can tell them on your way out. You're fired. Ihired you to care for my children, not meddle in my husband's death."

“His murder, ma’am.”

“What youassumeis his murder. Plenty of people have debts and manage to deal with them without killing people. You’ve known Hugo for all of two weeks. Less than that. You looked at some bank statements and decided, ‘Oh, he must be a killer.’ Fuck you!”

“He fled when I confronted him, ma’am.”

“Because you accused him of murder! You stupid…” she stops herself. “I want you out of my house. Be grateful that I’m not a psychopath, or I’d throw you out myself and let youfuckingfreeze to death.”

She spins on her heel and storms up the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief. Mostly because she’s not a psychopath and didn’t throw me out to freeze to death, something I actually feared she would do.

When the relief leaves, a touch of sadness follows. I’ve grown fond of the children. I’m not happy that I’ll have to leave them. Worse, I truly believe I could have been a help to them. The grief they’re navigating is difficult to process, and I know firsthand how debilitating grief can be when one isn’t given a chance to process it correctly. I fear that without my guidance, they will have a very hard time recovering.

But it’s a sacrifice that I had to make. Allowing their father’s murderer to escape justice would have been even worse for them.

My phone buzzes. Sean. I answer, and he says, “All right. I’ve called Dubois. He’ll send men over as fast as he can, but the storm’s a nightmare right now. He wants you to ensure the house is locked—doors and windows and all that—and that you and the family are safe.”

“They keep the doors locked unless they’re leaving,” I reply, “and I’ve locked the front door already. The family’s watching a movie, so they’re as safe as they can be. Honestly, Hugo’s in more danger than we are right now.”

“Your confidence is admirable, but I would very much like to suggest that you check the doors and windows.”

“I am,” I say, moving from the foyer to the side foyer.

“Well, then why didn’t you just say yes?” he growls. “Honestly, Mary, you’re the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”

“That explains why you’re single.”

“Yes, it does, actually.” He sighs. “That being said, good job.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

“How did you land on the gambling debts, anyway?”

“Sophie told me. The cook. She is awonderfulperson, Sean. We’ve become fast friends.”

I move down the hallway toward the garage, confirming that the pool door is locked as well. I glance out the window, but with the storm so thick, it’s impossible to tell if Hugo is somewhere close by.

“Yeah? Well, that’s wonderful. You two can form your own detective agency. The Spinster Sleuths.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t be too irritated at him right now. “How clever of you.”

“Hold on.”

I frown. His tone has changed markedly. “What is it?”

“Frederick didn’t refuse to cover his debts.”

I stop a few yards from the door to the garage. “What?”

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