by Aaron Lazar
“She lied. She’s a criminal. Her name is Vikki Wheedle. She works the job with her son, Truman.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I saw the children’s photographs on the television, Lollie. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind. Our Scarlett and Rhett are really named Caroline and Joey. They were taken just three days before you and I signed the papers and received them into our home.”
The screen flashed in the background and the story came on. Colby grabbed the remote from Lollie and turned up the volume.
Lollie watched, then crumpled to the floor, eyes still glued to the screen. When it was over, she whispered, “No.”
Colby went for the phone. “We have to call the police.”
“NO.”
She appeared behind him so fast that it startled him.
She pushed him away from the desk phone. “I said NO.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“We’re not giving them back. They’re mine now. We paid for them.”
He tried to gentle his voice. “You can’t buy children, Lollie.”
“I need some time,” she said in a shaky voice. “Give me a few minutes here.”
He sat on the bed. “Okay.”
“Where is Rosita? Does she have them downstairs?”
“No. I sent them out on a walk. I thought we’d need time to talk this through.”
“How could you be so stupid, Colby? To get our children through a felon? Why didn’t you check out their credentials or something?”
He backed up, hands in the air. “Hey. It all looked really legit to me.”
She followed him now, pushing at his chest. “How could you be so stupid?”
He backed into the hallway. “Lollie. Please. It’s not my fault.”
“Not your fault?” she screeched, shoving him down the hallway. “Not your FAULT?”
“Hey, take it easy now. We can work this out. We’ll start over. We’ll do this again.” Inside he knew he’d never start over with her. Not with children. Not with the marriage. He was done. But he just had to get to the phone and bring in the authorities before she got some crazy idea and took off with the kids. “Come on. Let’s go back in the bedroom and talk about it some more. I’ll make the call. And you can get dressed.”
Suddenly, her face went calm. “Okay, dear. I’m sorry. But would you please bring me up a cup of fresh coffee? Mine’s cold now.”
He relaxed. It seemed sudden, but was the worst over? Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.
They stood near the top of the stairs now, and she reached for him, laying her head against his chest. “We’ll get through this, right, Colby?”
He smiled tremulously. “Of course, Lollie.”
Her face cracked into an evil smile. She shoved him as hard as she could and he toppled backwards, tumbling through the air until he landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
As the life ebbed out of him, a faint thought hissed through him. Who will help the children?
Chapter 29
Rosita pushed the stroller along the sidewalk, heading back to the house she called “the mansion.” It was almost sinful how Mister Colby and Miss Lollie lived. But she was grateful, because it provided a good living for her, and with that salary, she could take care of her own children and grandchildren.
They lived in a tenement house on a farm outside town, where most of the family worked the fields. The rest worked at the sardine factory, not far away. With hard work and much studying, she and her husband had earned their American citizenship years ago, and it was something she would always be proud of. But he was long gone now. Time went so fast these days.
Red and blue lights blinked in the distance, and she squinted in the strong Maine sunlight to see where it came from. It seemed to come from their neighborhood, but she knew appearances could be deceiving.
Had there been a car accident? She hoped not. There were too many tourists this time of year, and they always drove too fast.
She craned her neck to see. There was no smoke, so it couldn’t be a house fire, thank God.
She pushed the stroller faster now.
The children had been so well-behaved for the past few hours. Still a bit subdued, which worried her. They seemed to be tired a lot, and they needed lots and lots of hugs. But they had warmed up to her right away, and she had no trouble sharing her love with them.
One thing bothered her, though. While she had sat in the coffee shop this morning, the television mounted to the wall had shown pictures of kidnapped babies that looked so similar to her charges she’d almost dropped her coffee cup. No one else had seemed to notice, and she hadn’t had her glasses with her, so she couldn’t be positive. But she was starting to get really suspicious.
She’d never liked that Miss Gilly person, the one who brought the children to the house. She’d had shifty eyes and moved with jerky motions, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from them. She’d wondered about that one, all right.
As she strode along the road, nodding to neighbors out walking their dogs and walking beside children on bikes, she thought about this some more.
What if Scarlett and Rhett were those poor kidnapped babies?
Could Mister Colby or Miss Lollie already know about it?
She shook her head, embarrassed to have had such disrespectful thoughts. Of course not. They were good people. Weren’t they?
She’d bring it up to Mister Colby when she got home, just to be sure. He was so much easier to talk to than the Missus.
But she’d been working for difficult white ladies for her whole life, and she had the system down. She knew what kind of deferential treatment Lollie needed to feel good about herself, and Rosita was very good at playing the role of the servant. Her grandmother and mother had both been serving ladies in their day, and they’d been very good at it, too.
At night at home they’d tell funny stories about their ladies, about the silly little things that would set them off into rages, or make them cry. While her family all had lived together in a crumbling adobe hut, sleeping side by side on the mud floor—they’d been happy.
The lights grew brighter now, and she began to worry in earnest. It looked like they might be coming from the Belvederes’ house.
Rolling the children around one more corner, she was sure now. Yes. There they were. Two police vehicles and an ambulance sat in the driveway near the front porch.
Hurrying, she trotted behind the stroller and reached the entrance.
A policeman stopped her. “Whoa there, Miss. Hold on. We’ve got an investigation going on here.”
“But I work here.” Rosita felt tears creeping into her voice and puddling in her eyes.
Lollie stood in the doorway with a policewoman supporting her. When she saw Rosita she screamed and ran down the stairs. “Oh my God! Rosita! My babies, my babies!”
Rosita stepped back, wondering if someone had already told the police about the kidnapping.
“Oh, Rosita.” Lollie gave her a quick, sobbing hug, something she’d never done before, then looked her in the eyes. “We’ve lost the Mister. There was a terrible accident.” Lollie’s cheeks flooded with tears.
Rosita stuttered. “We…lost him?”
A petite black woman officer with spiky dyed blonde hair spoke gently to her. “Detective Ritchie, here. I'm sorry to say Mr. Belvedere fell down the stairs. He didn’t make it.”
Lollie leaned down to unbuckle Rhett from his seat. “Oh, my babies. I need to hold them, Rosita. Help me get them inside, okay?”
Rosita felt numb. The Mister was dead? How was that possible? He’d just spoken to her that very morning. He said he had to have a discussion with Lollie about something. A strange niggling feeling began to eat into her.
What if he’d gotten Miss Lollie mad? Really mad?
She shook away the uncharitable thoughts and bent down to unbuckle Scarlett.
Inside, she saw yellow tape marking off a spot on the bottom of the stairs. A b
lue tarp covered the body.
No, not the body. Mister Colby.
With a sudden shudder, she began to cry. “The Mister is really dead?” Weeping softly now with the policewoman beside her, she followed Miss Lollie into the sunroom.
Lollie sat on the couch with baby Rhett on one knee. “Rosita. Can you give me Scarlett, please?”
Lollie had never said please before.
She set the baby on Lollie’s other knee, then plopped down beside Scarlett, who cried once she released her. The baby leaned into her, pressing her face into Rosita’s side.
“We’ll need to ask more questions in a bit, Mrs. Belvedere.” The detective leaned down to speak gently to Lollie. “Do you think you could help us out in a while? It’s all just formality, of course.”
Lollie raised a brave, tear-stained face to the woman. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
The detective turned to Rosita. “We’ll need to speak with you, too, dear.”
Rosita had never known such a nice police officer in her life. Outside of the Belvederes’ house, they’d always been curt and suspicious of her. “Si,” she said, stroking Scarlett’s hair. “I will do whatever I can to help.”
Inside, she tried to calm herself. When Scarlett began to cry, she took her bottle out of the diaper bag that was still on her shoulder. Gently, she repositioned Scarlett in her lap. She’d had the bottle filled with fresh milk not long ago at the restaurant, so it was still good.
“There you go, pequeña. It will be okay.”
The baby suckled at the bottle, settling down quickly.
She knew what she had to do. With a deep breath, she felt her resolve grow stronger.
Chapter 30
“Miss Garcia?” The detective poked her head in the sunroom where Rosita, Lollie, and the children were still sitting on the couch together. “We’re ready for you now.”
Rosita nodded and rose to settle the sleeping girl in the crib. It had been her idea to have a second set of cribs downstairs, so they wouldn’t have to carry the babies up and down all day long, and so she could hear them if they cried while she was working in the kitchen. The thought of those stairs made her shudder again, but she tried to rein in her tears and not think of Mr. Colby.
Lollie lay with Rhett asleep on her chest, running her fingers through his curls. Her face had turned almost blank, with eyes that stared at nothing. Rosita had never seen Lollie this way before.
She tucked Scarlett into her soft pink blanket and turned to walk past Lollie, who didn’t look up or say a word to her.
“My name’s Detective Ritchie, as I said earlier,” the lady cop said, staring at Lollie as she escorted Rosita out of the room. She lowered her voice. “It looks like maybe your lady is in shock. Maybe I should have the EMTs look at her again.”
Rosita nodded. “I’ve never seen her like this. It’s like she’s gone far away, isn’t it?”
“Mmm. I’ve seen it after great trauma. I think I’d best call someone in to sit with her.”
“Better yet, to watch the children, es correcto?” Rosita said. “They need someone um, normal, to be sure they’re safe.”
Detective Ritchie glanced sideways at her. “Are you the nanny?”
Rosita smiled. “Nanny, maid, cook…I do everything. I just help wherever I am needed.”
Detective Ritchie led her into the kitchen, where a few officers stood in groups talking. “Here you go. Let’s sit down right here. Can I make you some coffee?”
Rosita felt awkward with all the police in the room. And nobody ever made her coffee before, except maybe her Mama. “Um…”
Detective Ritchie shooed the men into the living room. “Guys, give me some space. I’m conducting interviews in here, okay?”
The men nodded and drifted into the next room, their conversations still in full swing.
“There. Is that better?”
Rosita smiled tremulously. “Thank you, si.” She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I still don’t believe it. How can Mr. Colby be gone?”
“I know, it’s a shock, isn’t it? These things are never easy, Miss Garcia.”
“Please. Call me Rosita.”
“Okay, Rosita. Now, let’s get down to business. You sure you don’t want coffee?”
Rosita shook her head. “No thank you, Miss.”
“Tell you what, you call me Luce and I’ll call you Rosita. Deal?”
“Okay. Luce?”
“Short for Lucy.”
Rosita folded her hands on her lap. “I see.” Her heart began to beat faster. How would she tell them about the children?
“We’ve already established your whereabouts during the incident. I understand you walked the children to the park?”
“Yes. And to the muffin shop. We had a little breakfast.”
“Was this your usual routine?”
“Not at all. Usually we all had breakfast in the kitchen with the children. But Mr. Colby said he needed some time alone with Lollie. He asked me to stay away for a few hours. You know, so they could have a discussion without the noise of children in the room.”
“I see. Were you very close with Mr. Belvedere?”
Rosita flushed. “Close?”
“I mean, did you know him well?”
“Of course. I worked for him.” She started to look around the room nervously. “He was a good man. He was kind.”
“What was your relationship like, Rosita?”
“Que?”
“Did he ever approach you in an inappropriate manner?”
“Inappropriate?”
“Like, come on to you. You know what I mean.”
Rosita shot to her feet. “No! You cannot talk about the Mister that way. He is…was a wonderful person. He was good to me. He never yelled.”
Detective Ritchie put a hand on her arm. “Sorry, please sit back down. We just have to confirm the family dynamics in cases like these.”
“Cases like these?” Reluctantly, Rosita sat. “You shouldn’t say such things about Mister Colby.” She started to cry again, but with a few quivering sighs, controlled herself.
“What about Lollie? Do you get along well with her?”
“Why do you ask this? Are you saying I killed Mister Colby? I was in town when this happened!”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just our way of establishing motive, you know. In case the wife was jealous of your relationship with her husband. Maybe she got mad or something. Maybe she gave him a little push?”
“I thought you said it was an accident.” Rosita paled. “You say the most horrible things, Detective.”
“Call me Luce.”
“I don’t think I can, Detective Ritchie. I thought you were a nice lady, but now I am not so sure.”
“Well, we’ll probably rule out any ill intent today, but it’s part of my job to be sure it really was an accident. Now, back to Lollie. What was your relationship with her?”
Rosita huffed. “I do what she says.”
“Is she also, ‘nice,’ like Mr. Belvedere was?”
Rosita hesitated. Should she remain loyal to the family, or share all the dirty linen? “Si.”
“Come on now, Rosita.”
“Okay. She’s sometimes a little hard to work for. She can be very bossy. But I’m used to her and I take good care of her.”
“Of course you do, nobody’s questioning your work ethic, Rosita. Now, how did they get along? Did they fight much?”
Rosita sat silent.
“They did, huh?”
She still didn’t answer, glancing sideways to the sunroom. She didn’t want Lollie to hear her.
Detective Ritchie got up and closed the door leading to the hall. “Better?”
Rosita nodded. “Gracias.”
“So, they fought a lot?”
“Si.”
“When’s the last time you heard them fighting?”
Rosita furrowed her brow. “I don’t really know. It happens all the time. Last night, I gues
s?”
“And what was it about?”
“Um,” she looked nervously toward the door, as if to assure herself it was closed. “Miss Lollie got upset last night when the babies wouldn’t sleep. She started to yell. Mister Colby came running in to help her, but she got mad at him.”
“Running in from where?”
“Oh, the guest room. That’s where he’s been sleeping since the children came to live with us a few weeks ago.”
“What? They came to live with you? These aren’t their natural born kids?”
“No.” Rosita began to sweat now.
“Adopted?”
“Yes. And…” Heart pounding, she stood and placed her hands on the back of her chair. “They were adopted on the same day. But I have to say something about this.”
Detective Ritchie leaned forward. “What’s going on, Rosita? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I have to tell you something.”
The detective stood and faced the maid, taking both her hands. “Tell me what?”
Rosita’s whisper was fierce. “I saw them on the television this morning. At the muffin shop.” She collapsed back into the chair and began sobbing, head in her arms. “They aren’t our children. They were kidnapped.”
For the first time, Detective Ritchie was silent. After a few long minutes, she ran a hand over her short blonde hair and sighed. “Well, holy shit. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I wanted to,” Rosita sobbed. “But with the Mister falling down the stairs, it was all too…loco.”
Detective Ritchie waved in one of her colleagues. “Jim? Get in here.”
A tall lanky policeman hurried inside. “Yes, Ma’am?”
“Get the Bureau on the horn. I need to look into a recent kidnapping of two children. And keep it on the QT. I don’t want Mrs. Belvedere to hear you.”
When he stared at her as if she had lost her mind, she jumped toward him, poking his chest with one finger. “Now!”
“Sorry, boss. I’m on it. Back in a flash.”
Chapter 31
Rosita didn’t know if she’d ever have her kitchen back again.
Swarms of men and women had invaded the whole house since yesterday, and all she’d done was answer more and more questions, make dozens of pots of coffee, and take care of the poor little babies.
