“I can’t make any promises,” Mrs. Penny grumbled.
“Oh, my. This fresh produce would make Elanora so happy. She enjoys a daily beet juice,” Gabe said, his face lighting up.
“Forget the beets. Look at those freaking cookies.” Mrs. Penny pointed at the bakery stand.
Riley sighed. “Fine. You two take Burt and shopquietly. I’ll interview Marina, and we’ll meet back at the Jeep.”
The pretzel stand was all the way in the back corner past the Lebanese place and next to the candy stand she prayed Gabe wouldn’t spot. Riley followed her nose to the fresh-baked pretzels. It was a stand run by young women in pretty homemade dresses and aprons.
Riley got in line, intending to focus on the witness interview, but by the time she got to the register, her willpower had evaporated.
“May I help you, miss?” The girl behind the register asked.
Miss. It beat the hell out of ma’am.
“I’ll take a large pretzel and a lemonade. And I’d like to speak to Marina,” she added as she forked over the cash.
She was directed to a young woman in a flour-dusted apron worn over a pale blue dress that matched her eyes. Her hair was fashioned into a braided bun.
“Are you Marina?” Riley asked over the plexiglass.
Marina nodded and ducked out of the booth. “Are you Riley Thorn?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Yes. Detective Kellen sent me to talk to you about Bianca Hornberger.”
“Let’s speak outside,” Marina suggested.
Riley followed her out a side door and into the suffocating summer sunshine. She pulled out her phone. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Do what you must.”
“So, uh, Marina.” Riley suddenly felt incapable of conversation. “You work for Bianca Hornberger, is that correct?”
The woman nodded vigorously, her head covering fluttering. “Yes. I was hired as a housekeeper and nanny until Mrs. Hornberger realized that I was not able to produce the kind of photography she needed for her social media presence. Then she hired a nanny slash social media director.”
Forgetting the point of the conversation momentarily, Riley frowned. “What does a nanny slash social media director do?”
“Yvette was part of an au pair program from France. She drives the children to and from school and takes pictures of Mrs. Hornberger.”
“How old are the kids?” Riley asked.
“Thirteen and fourteen.”
“And they still need a nanny?”
Marina looked over both shoulders. “I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead.”
“Honesty doesn’t count as speaking ill. Especially not if it leads us to her killer,” Riley promised.
“Mrs. Hornberger was a terrible person. Her husband and children are better off without her.” Marina’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh, my. That felt wonderful!”
“Let it all out,” Riley advised.
* * *
Riley’s headwas spinning as images of Bianca Hornberger reinfested her newly cleaned mental crevices.
“And another thing,” Marina said, nearly breathless after ten minutes of uninterrupted venting. “When Mr. Hornberger put his foot down and said she needed to stop sinking so much money into her channel just to get a few free products, she paid for thousands of fake followers to pretend that she was getting famous so he’d have to let her continue. Yvette said if you look in the comments you can tell which ones are bots.”
