The current version of himself realized that it took more than the size of a house to make a home—if the other aspects failed to fall in place properly. Apparently, that wasn’t a problem for Bella, having returned to her childhood home with the death of her father four months ago as a single woman after divorcing her husband. Or was it the other way around? The way he’d heard it, Jeff Lacombe, the ex, whom Bella had met in high school, had cheated on her, and that had ended the marriage, with Jeff and his new girlfriend relocating to New Mexico.
Not my problem, Campbell told himself, sure that with all Bella had to offer, she would have no trouble finding someone else to share her life with—just not him. Assuming that wasn’t already the case.
After ringing the bell, the door opened and Bella’s housekeeper stood there. The thirtysomething medium-size woman with short and curly brunette hair asked, “Can I help you?”
Taking out his badge, Campbell answered, “I need to speak with Ms. Reston,” remembering that Bella had reclaimed her maiden name following the divorce.
“Come in,” the housekeeper said tonelessly.
Campbell walked into a long hall with marble tile and framed family photographs, and past bifurcated stairs, before being led to the great room and asked to wait. He glanced around at the traditional furnishings, floor-to-ceiling windows and an exposed-brick wood-burning fireplace.
“Hello.”
He heard the familiar pleasant voice and turned to face Bella, who smiled.
“Campbell…or should I call you Detective Sawyer?”
He grinned. “Campbell is fine.” Especially since he didn’t want this to seem like an interrogation so much as an informal chat between old acquaintances, if not friends.
“All right.” Bella walked up to him, wearing a sleeveless black wide-leg jumpsuit and flats. “Nice to see you, Campbell. How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing well, thanks.” Campbell appreciated that she asked, remembering that he’d done some work for her father.
She smiled. “So, what brings you my way?”
“Mind if we sit?” he asked, meeting her green eyes.
“Of course. Where are my manners?” Bella eyed a set of maroon Chesterfield chairs angled toward one another by an oval glass table. “Sit.”
Campbell sat down and waited for her to do the same before getting right to it. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re investigating the suspicious death of Mia O’Dell.”
Bella gave a nod. “Yes, I’m totally aware of that—thanks, in part, to our mutual friend, Stefanie, who’s been filling me in on any news she picked up on it. How does any of this relate to me?”
“It doesn’t, in so many words,” he told her. “But it does your late father, Stuart Reston, albeit indirectly…”
Bella batted her lashes. “I’m afraid I don’t follow…”
Campbell explained, “As far as we’re aware, Mia’s last-known employer was Stuart, who employed her as a housekeeper. We’re backtracking her life to try and understandhow Mia ended up dead in the park on Founder’s Day. Can you tell me anything about her working for your father?”
Bella took a breath and said evenly, “Not too much. I wasn’t living in the house at the time. What I do know is that she was his housekeeper for a few months before he died—seemed as though Daddy had trouble keeping help that lived up to his standards—before he caught her stealing and fired her.”
“Really?” Campbell asked attentively.
“That’s what I was told,” she said, smoothing a brow. “Apparently, it wasn’t the first time she stole from him.”
“Did he say what she stole or tried to steal?”
“Some of my late mother’s jewelry, which he refused to part with.” Bella ran a hand through her hair, which stayed remarkably in place. “As well as money that he often had lying around haphazardly.”
Campbell leaned toward her chair. “Did your father ever report any of this to the police?” If so, he could easily look it up for more details.
“No, I don’t think so. My dad was a private person and preferred not to get the police involved if at all possible.” Bella folded her arms. “He chose instead to simply fire Mia. Feeling she was let off easy, she went on her way without a fuss.”
“I see.” Campbell scratched his jaw. “Had you seen Mia since she was fired?”
Bella met his gaze. “I spotted her on occasion in town—but we never spoke.”
“Did your father ever indicate to you any knowledge that Mia was using drugs?”
