Page 11 of What Did Your Last Maid Die Of?

“Excuse me?” I turned and gave him my most denigrating look. “I’ll have you know that I was actually interviewing at a law firm.”

“You were?” He studied me for a couple of minutes. “Really?” He looked disbelieving.

I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Maybe it had been the absolutely ridiculous afternoon I’d had, but I wasn’t going to put up with his rudeness.

“Yes, I am an attorney at law. I graduated from Harvard Law School, number one in my class, and I have been recruited by many different law firms at very high salaries.”

“Really?” he said, his lips twitching. “And yet you decided to interview at a law firm in Port Sunshine.”

“Because I have family here,” I said, glaring at him.

“I see. And which of our illustrious law firms were you inquiring at?”

I blinked at him. “I’ll have you know that Oliver and Sons want me very badly. In fact, they want to pay me, well, a lot of money to work there.”

“Indeed,” he said, “and how much is that?”

“Like sixty thousand dollars.”

“Sixty thousand dollars, you don’t say. And you, the number-one graduate of Harvard Law School.”

“Well, anyway,” I said, “my driver is waiting for me outside. I don’t want to be late.”

“So will I be seeing you in this building, then?” He gave me a warm smile, though his blue eyes were sparkling. They almost seemed to be laughing at me.

“Don’t tell me you work in this building,” I said, staring at him.

“No.” He chuckled slightly. “I don’t work in this building.”

“What were you doing? Delivering the mail?” I said in a haughty tone.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds and raised an eyebrow. “Something like that,” he said, smirking. “Well, good luck on your journey, Miss…” He paused.

I stared at him for a couple of seconds. “The name is Nightingale.”

“Okay, well, nice to meet you, Miss Nightingale.”

“Mrs. Nightingale to you,” I said and sniffed. “Anyway, I’m sure you have more mail to be delivered. I have to get going.”

“I know,” he said. “Your driver’s waiting on you.”

“Yes, she…I mean he is.”

I hurried quickly away from him. I looked over at Claudia.

“So did they have any…” she started, but I held my hand up.

“Good day to you, Claudia. Good day.”

I hurried out of the building and ran toward the car. Chelsea was sitting there playing a game on her phone.

“Go,” I said as I jumped into the car.

“What?”

“Just go. Put your foot on the ignition and go,” I said as I checked the rearview mirror to make sure that the man hadn’t come out of the building and saw me sitting in Chelsea’s old, nearly broken-down car.

“What the fuck just happened?” Chelsea said as she went speeding off down the road. “Did you just rob a bank or something?”

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