Page 59 of The Lost Heiress
“That’s all right, Wanda. I can find my own way out,” Church said, standing. “But, Mr. Bass, I will need the necklace back.”
“What?” Bass said absently and then glanced down at his lap. “Oh, yes, this. You can have it.” He picked it up with his trembling, liver-spotted hand and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor next to his wheelchair.
“Very dignified of you,” Church said. He leaned down to retrieve it and then headed toward the door.
“Oh, and, Detective?” Bass called.
Church didn’t want to, but he paused, turned around. “Yes?”
“If you wish to talk with me again, I want my lawyer present,” Bass said.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Church said. “Maybe he can help you come up with a better story.” Church held up the plastic baggie with the necklace in it. “From the looks of it, this thing was torn from Saoirse’s neck. It wasn’t a matter of a faulty clasp. The chain was broken.”
Chapter Twenty
August 1982
Would you ever sleep with someone that you worked with?” Saoirse asked one morning at breakfast.
She had learned this trick at school—to come out bluntly with the question you really wanted to know. The more shocking, the more salacious, the better. It unseated your opponent immediately, knocked them off their feet, and then you had them right where you wanted them: unguarded, unprepared, submissive on the ground before they even knew what hit them.
It seemed to have the desired effect: Ana almost choked on her mouthful of eggs. She coughed, finished chewing, and took a sip of her orange juice.
“What?” she asked, a little hoarse.
“Would you ever sleep with someone that you worked with?” Saoirse repeated.
“I—” Ana said, clearly ruffled, which only piqued Saoirse’s suspicions more. “Where’s this coming from?”
“It’s coming from me, the inquisitive creature sitting before you,” Saoirse said.
“I don’t think this is an appropriate line of questioning,” Ana said.
“You and Salvador seem really close is all,” Saoirse said, watching her closely. “You always have your little tête-à-têtes at the breakfast table. I saw you drive off together the other day. Where did you go?”
Saoirse had been observing them for a while now—the way they always seemed to pair off together when they were in the same room, put their heads together, talk. The way Ana would throw her head back and laugh, and Salvador would smile in a self-satisfied way. They sat next to one another at the breakfast table, side by side, every morning, chattering in low voices so she could never hear what they were saying to each other when she came in. Salvador would always finish breakfast first and then head upstairs to prepare for Saoirse’s lessons. He had done the same today, pushing back his chair once his plate was cleared and giving her a friendly, “Miss Towers, I expect I’ll see you shortly. On time today would be a pleasant surprise, yes?” He had touched Ana’s shoulder in parting as he’d gotten up, which did not go unnoticed by Saoirse.
“Salvador and I are friends,” Ana said.
“So were John Lennon and Yoko Ono,” Saoirse said. “They were also fucking.”
Ana glared at her, but Saoirse couldn’t tell whether Ana was simply annoyed at her questioning or if she had hit a nerve.
“You don’t seem like an obvious pair,” Saoirse went on. “Salvador is—well—handsome. Charming. Accomplished. And you’re more ... how should I put this? Subtle in your attractions. It’s hard to see what the two of you might have in common, though I suppose sometimes opposites attract, or so they say.”
Ana remained quiet, unresponsive.
Saoirse sighed, angry now. Why wasn’t she taking the bait? “Look,” Saoirse said, “I think I have a right to know whether two people who are under my family’s employment are amorously involved.”
“Yes, you seem to think you have a right to a great many things,” Ana said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Giving employment to a person does not give you authority over a person’s entire being,” Ana said. “You don’t own them. You can’t dictate the details of their personal lives. People have a right to privacy.”
Saoirse did not like how this was going. “You never answered my question,” Saoirse said, frustrated.
“You’re right; I didn’t,” Ana said before taking another bite of her eggs and chewing in a self-satisfied manner. She set her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Now, let’s follow Mr. Santos’s advice and get you to your lessons on time today, shall we?” she asked brightly, pushing back her chair.
