by Celia Loren
"I'm so sorry to drop by unannounced, but would it be possible for me to see Brent? I'm just so horrified by what Mark did…"
"Of course. I think he's in his study. One moment," I assure her, walking quickly down the other hallway to Mr. Redmond's study, my romantic plans slightly derailed. I knock quietly, and hear his immediate reply.
"Yes." I poke my head in.
"Kristine is here to see you." He's sitting behind his desk, though there are no papers in front of him and his computer seems to be off. His looks strike me as they did when I first saw him, walking into the living room all those weeks ago.
"Ah. Show her in," he replies, standing and buttoning his suit jacket.
"Yes, sir." I turn down back down the hallway and walk up to Kristine. "You can go right back," I tell her. "Would you like anything to drink?"
"I'd love an entire bottle of red wine, but I suppose a glass will do," she replies wryly as she walks toward his study.
"Right away," I say, heading for the basement steps. I take a bottle of Cava from a shelf in the wine cellar and head back upstairs. Ms. Mueller and Aaron have gone off to their own devices, so I pour a glass of wine in the kitchen by myself. I take a sniff of it before I put it on a tray to bring into Kristine. Nope, still don't have a nose for good wine.
I balance the small, round silver tray on my right palm as I head back around to the study. I reach for the door knob, but pause as I hear voices from inside.
"I know that the timing is terrible. Things between Mark and me haven't been good for a long time, though," I hear Kristine say. "Honestly, I think it took me setting you up with another woman to realize for sure…I'm still not over you."
My entire body clenches. "Kristine…" I hear Mr. Redmond murmur.
"I know, I know. But when they took Mark away today, the only person I wanted to be with was you. And I feel like I just want to be honest finally. I couldn't wait any longer." I know the feeling. "I made the biggest mistake of my life when I broke things off with you. But if there's anything good to come out of this whole horrible mess…maybe it could be us."
There's a long silence, and my heart jumps in my chest. What's going on in there? I can't take it any longer. I raise my hand and knock loudly, then turn the handle and enter.
They're standing by the window near the armchairs. Kristine turns away from him as I enter, and Mr. Redmond straightens his tie. My eyes dart between them as a nausea rises in my stomach. I missed my chance.
He clears his throat and walks over to sit in one of the armchairs, and Kristine follows.
"Your wine," I manage to say walking forward to the side table next to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kristine reach out her hand and grasp Mr. Redmond's. I catch the bottom edge of the glass on the table as I put it down, spilling wine onto the pale Oriental rug under it. "Oh, oh, I'm sorry," I gasp.
"It's alright," Kristine assures me, her hand still in Mr. Redmond's. I take the rag out of my pocket and kneel down, dabbing at the spots on the carpet. I press the rag into the crimson brown stain as it bleeds through the fibers. It almost looks like blood.
Like the stain in my bedroom. Which Donohue said was not blood, but maybe…
I freeze as I look down at the stain. I've managed to get almost all of it, but if no one knew it was there, and didn't clean it right away, the stain would last for weeks. If there had been a maid when it happened, surely it would have been taken care of right away.
"Everything alright?" I hear Mr. Redmond ask. I look up to see them both staring at me.
I stand up abruptly and pocket the rag. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I've gotten most of it, but I'll get the rest tomorrow before I leave." I turn to the door as though I'm going. "Oh, Kristine. I'm leaving tomorrow. I wasn’t sure if you knew?"
"I didn't," she says, with a slight frown. "I'll be sorry to see you go."
"Mm. Already finished packing up in the servants' quarters, actually. Have you ever been up there?"
She shrugs. "No, can't say I have."
"Ah. Well, goodnight then." I walk as calmly as I can to the door and shut it behind me, then pick up my pace as I head back around to the kitchen and then up the stairs to my room.
I close my door behind me and kneel down on the floor, examining the stain in the rug between the desk and the window. Exactly the same color as the wine stain I just tried to clean up in the study. Kristine is the only one who drinks wine. I remember Mr. Redmond telling me that Jody never drank, and if she'd been alive when the stain was made, she would have cleaned it up.
My body buzzes with adrenaline. I pick up my phone and call Jaime. No answer. What did I do with Donohue's card? I look around my room. Probably threw it away ages ago. Oh, I bet the two of them are questioning Mark. I call Jaime one more time, then text him. What made the stain in the rug in Jody's room?
Maybe I should call 911. No…that would be crazy. They'd probably laugh at me. A stain? Stop the presses! But I feel sure I'm right.
I flop onto my bed. It’s not just the stain. It's Mark's character. I can see him doing something more passive and sneaky like stealing money, but he doesn't strike me as aggressive. Kristine, on the other hand…I bet she'd have a steady hand in any situation.
I close my eyes, picturing what might have happened…Kristine knows about Mark's embezzlement. Hell, she might have even encouraged him. She's the one with the fondness for nice things, like her engagement ring. She and Mark discuss it when they're over for the dinner party, thinking they're in private. But Jody is in the room. No one ever notices the maid. When they realize she's overheard, Kristine decides something has to be done. She waits until later, after Jody's gone to bed, then goes up to her room. She brings her wine, thinking maybe they'll just talk, girl to girl. She opens the door quietly and walks in. Jody is asleep on the bed. It would be so easy… Kristine sets her wine glass down on the desk, and walks out, back to the linen closet she saw on her way in. She takes out a pillow and returns to the room. Jody is very petite. It isn't hard for Kristine to hold the pillow down. When it's done, she's shaking. She picks up the wine glass, spilling a couple drops. It's dark and there's no time to clean it up. She has to get rid of Jody's body. Make it seem like she just disappeared. Now that Mark's been arrested and the money is gone, she comes back to Brent…he's by far the richer one now, anyhow.
Yes. I know it. I can feel that I'm right. I open my eyes to call Jaime again, just in time to see a pillow come down over my face.
Chapter Thirty
I don't have time to gasp in a full breath of air before the pillow's white cotton is covering my mouth. I feel the fabric sucked against my tongue and reflexively bring up my hands. My brain is too confused and shocked to form coherent thoughts, but my body knows to fight.
I close my hands around a slim pair of wrists and push back as hard as I can. The seal around my mouth loosens a little and I can feel air against my mouth. It's enough to give me another shot of adrenaline, I bring my legs up and then kick out. I only graze my attacker with my left leg, and pull them back in for another kick. This time, I make good contact, and hear a grunt as the pillow falls off my face.
I scramble up to sitting and see Kristine struggling to stand back up. She grabs for the lamp on my desk, and I manage to duck just as it hits the wall over my head. Her face twists in anger as she grabs for the pillow again. I hear running footsteps heading down the hallway, but just in case they need any encouragement, I scream.
The door bursts open and Aaron rushes in. Kristine immediately drops the pillow and transforms her face into a mask of fear.
"Thank god you're here!" she says, throwing herself at him and beginning to cry.
"What's going on?" he gasps, as Ms. Mueller appears at the doorway behind him in a robe.
"She came in here and tried to smother me!" I manage to exclaim.
"Oh my god, she's crazy," Kristine sobs. "I came in to say goodbye, and she attacked me!" Mr. Redmond and Whitney appear next to Ms. Mueller—apparently the figh
t was loud enough to rouse the whole house. Kristine spots him and goes over, nuzzling her face into his neck. "She said she was jealous because she saw Brent and me together, and then she threw that lamp at me!"
My jaw drops. "Are you serious? Then what is that pillow doing in here?" I ask, pointing to the one on the floor that she must have grabbed from the linen closet, just like last time.
She shrugs. "How would I know?"
I take a deep breath to try to gather my thoughts after the physical attack. "Kristine killed Jody, not Mark. And she just tried to kill me. Don't you believe me?" I plead, looking around.
Whitney steps forward. "I believe you. Keep going."
"What's going on?" Mrs. Redmond asks, appearing next to her son.
"Look," I say, standing up. "There are red wine stains on the floor here, and Kristine's the only one who drinks it. She must have spilled it the night Jody died, or Jody would have cleaned it up. I realized what it was when I spilled some of Kristine's wine myself tonight. I bet she knew what Mark was doing all along, and then when Jody overheard or found out, she came up here to talk to her, then decided it would be easier to kill her. That's why I asked Kristine if she'd ever been up here," I say to Mr. Redmond. "Just to make sure she didn't do it some other time. But she probably realized I knew—"
"This is ridiculous! Jody probably did it herself!"
"Jody didn't drink," Mr. Redmond says quietly.
Kristine jerks her head up to his. "You seriously believe her?"
"I believe her," Ms. Mueller says, walking over to me and wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
"Me too," Aaron says. There's a long pause.
"And me," Mr. Redmond adds, stepping away from Kristine.
She begins to laugh. "Brent, you've got to be kidding! I mean, I know you're fucking her, but you've known me for years!"
"I knew something strange was going on!" Mrs. Redmond exclaims.
"You think I don't know about that?! Mark tells me everything," Kristine announces haughtily.
"Well, if you want to be accurate, we're not just fucking, Kristine. I'm in love with him," I state simply, locking eyes with Mr. Redmond.
We all turn as police sirens wail in the distance. "I took the liberty of pressing the alarm, Sir," Aaron says to Mr. Redmond.
"I would have given you two money if you needed it, Kristine," Mr. Redmond says quietly.
She gapes at him, then turns to the rest of the silent group, looking over their faces. Suddenly, she launches herself at me.
"You fucking bitch!" she screams, clawing her hands toward me. I'm swept back as Ms. Mueller steps in front of me and Aaron grabs her from behind. We might have been equally matched, but she's no match for him. In a flash, she's pinned to the ground on her stomach, Aaron's knee on her back.
She struggles for a moment, spitting and writhing around, but then it's like a switch goes off, and she begins to sob.
"Please, please," she cries, as the sirens grow closer.
The next few minutes are a blur. Ms. Mueller escorts me out of the room and downstairs into the den. Whitney joins us, bringing me a glass of water, as someone lets the uniformed cops inside. Whitney and Ms. Mueller sit on either side of me, their warm bodies giving me some measure of strength as exhaustion pulls at me.
I hear voices throughout the house, and look up to see Jaime and Donohue walking toward me.
"Well, well," Donohue says as he sits in the armchair across from the couch, Jaime standing on his right.
"You OK?" Jaime asks, looking me over. I nod. "Just saw your text," he adds. "Sorry."
"Ms. Harrington's in a car on the way to the station," Donohue says. "She's trying to pin the whole thing on Mark, but I doubt that will hold up now. He's already in deep shit, so we'll probably offer him a deal. He'll turn on her in a minute, mark my words."
"We need to take a statement from you," Jaime says.
"I guess we're supposed to clear out, then," Whitney says. "You need anything, Cora?"
"No, I'm good, thanks," I reply, grasping her and Ms. Mueller's hands briefly before they walk to the door. Jaime takes a seat on the couch next to me as Donohue pulls out his notebook.
"Start at the beginning of the night," he suggests, pen poised above the paper.
I take a deep breath. "Well, I had just finished clearing the dishes…"
By the time I've finished giving my statement and the paramedics have looked me over, I can barely keep my eyes open. I look to the door way and can see Jaime and Donohue shaking hands with a tall figure. Mr. Redmond.
They head toward the foyer, and Mr. Redmond's silhouette moves toward me. I peer up at him, groggily trying to read his expression as he bends over me.
"You look like you've had a long night," he murmurs, bringing his palm up to my cheek. I sigh, nuzzling back against his touch.
"I'm sorry I—"
"We can talk it all over tomorrow," he interrupts me. "Right now, you need to get to bed." His strong arms curl around me, picking up me and the throw Ms. Mueller tucked around my shoulders. I bury my face in his neck, allowing his scent to comfort me, as he carries me into the foyer and up the stairs.
I'm already drifting off as he places me gently in bed. I feel my shoes being taken off and my stockings being gently removed, then the cover pulled up to my chin.
The last thing I remember is feeling him getting into bed beside me and kissing me softly on the cheek.
Chapter Thirty-One
I wake up to the sun streaming across my face and squint as I see Mr. Redmond pulling open the curtains. I look around in confusion. It's so bright in his bedroom, with the sun's rays bouncing off the white sheets.
"What time is it?" I croak.
"A little after noon," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.
"I…what day?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.
He laughs softly. "Friday."
"I thought so. Why aren't you at work?"
"Well, first of all, there's press camped out here and at the office, and I don't feel like dealing with them, and second and more importantly, I wanted to stay home and take care of you."
"Oh. Mr. Redmond—"
"You don't work here anymore, remember?" he says, his expression serious but his eyes flashing with a smile.
"I forgot," I say sheepishly, then peer under the covers. "I am still wearing my uniform, though, Brent."
He smiles, but it fades quickly. "Are you alright, though, really? You must have been terrified."
I finger the edges of the sheet. "I was, but it was over so quickly. I think I was more scared that you all would believe her over me."
"Not much chance of that. You have quite the fan club around here. Whitney kept trying to make me wake you up because she wanted to make sure you were alright."
"That's strange. To think they all know I'm in here right now."
"Yeah, I think the cat's out of the bag."
"Whitney knew already."
"I know. She's been gloating all morning." He pauses, looking down at his hands. "Last night, you were in shock…so if you didn't mean what you said…"
I reach forward, slipping my hand into his. "I meant it. I was going to tell you earlier in the night, but then Kristine was there…"
"I guess none of us could have predicted where the night would go," he says wryly, then turns to me. "Except you." He leans over and in, resting his elbow on the far side of my body with his head directly over me. "Since you're looking for a job, maybe you should consider becoming a detective."
"I—" I begin, but he closes the distance between us, his lips softly parting mine. He eases me into the kiss, just barely grazing his tongue against mine before pulling away. "You won't hire me back?" I ask as his lips hover just a few inches above mine.
He frowns thoughtfully. "No."
"No?"
"No," he repeats. "I want to date you, Cora MacAuliffe. I want to show you all my favorite places in the city. I want to see yours. I want to kiss you goodnight on yo
ur doorstep, I want to wake up with you, I want to make you breakfast. And I just can't see any of that happening if you keep working for me."
I grin, feeling a warm glow spread through me. "That sounds good."
He eyes me suspiciously. "Yeah? You don't want to run away?"
"No. I want to do this." I reach up and place my hands on his cheeks, then pull his face down toward mine. Warmth surges through me as our mouths meet. We both open our lips and our tongues dance against each other's. After a few glorious moments, he pulls away and kisses softly down my neck to the top of my uniform. I arch my back as he reaches behind me to give him room to unzip it, and wiggle happily as I feel his fingers graze against my skin on the way down.
He pulls the sheets back so he can take the dress off over my feet, and tosses it in the corner. "Last time you'll be wearing that," he says with a smile, and reaches up to the top of my stockings. I raise my legs as he peels them off, then gently lies down on top of me. I take a moment to study his face, his dark hair and brow contrasting with his pale eyes, and the slight hitch in his nose. I rub my fingers softly over his full lips and couple days' worth of stubble.
It's different to be with him in the sunlight like this, in his bedroom, smack in the middle of the day. I feel open and vulnerable to him in a way I've never felt before, even when he had me tied to this very bed overnight. Maybe it's because now he knows I care.
My lips find his again and my hands move over his wide shoulders and then down his chest to the hem of his cotton shirt. I slip my hands underneath it, feeling his hard muscles, and then begin to inch the fabric up, allowing my fingers to play over his skin as I go. He sits up a little, allowing me to pull the shirt up and over his head.
I sit up with him as he tosses the shirt away, and bend my head down, trailing kisses across his clavicle. He reaches behind me as I go, and I feel him unhook my bra and bring my arms forward so he can slide it off. He wraps his arms around my waist and I arch my back as he gently nibbles at my neck. I reach up to my hair to pull out my bobby pins, and struggle to maintain my concentration as he moves down and closer to my breasts.
