“Mrs. Evans.”
’Tis like he punched me in the stomach. Acid shoots up my throat.
“What are you saying, Stan?” Damien squeezes my hand. “Tell us plain. Was Mrs. Evans killed, or did she do the killing?”
Stan holds his tongue too long, glancing at the door to be sure no one hears. Faith, I cannot bear the wait. Is Mrs. Evans in cuffs or is she in the morgue? I can’t stand either one.
“Stan!” I bark. “Which is it?”
“Someone killed her. She was shot.”
“No!” I cry, then I fall apart. My knees feel weak, and Damien catches me before I topple onto the pavement.
He holds me close, and I feel his lips by my ear. “You’ll be all right, Rosie.”
“But why? Why would anyone kill Mrs. Evans?” I sob. “Ah now, she was more of a mother than my own. Like Granny, save Granny was never kind like Mrs. Evans. Oh, how can she be gone? What will I do without her?”
Damien is pure business now. He keeps me upright, but he is scowling at all the police cars. “And what’s all this?”
“They took her body away,” Stan tells him. “The police are in her office, going through her things and conducting interviews.”
We wait for more information, but there isn’t any. “That’s all I know,” he says. “I swear it.”
Damien’s gnawing on his lip. “Rosie, I’ve got to do some things. Are you all right to work?”
I suppose I am, though I’ll feel dead inside, won’t I? I watch him race inside, then I catch my balance against the wall as I walk to the chambermaid room. The air in the room flutters with fretful chatter, but the girls look up in silence when I come in.
Deirdre is the first to reach me. “Did you hear? Mrs. Evans—”
“Of course I heard.” I open my locker. “We still have to work.”
“Who killed her?” Deirdre asks.
“How in God’s name should I know?” I hiss.
The question has barely entered my mind yet. I’m still reeling overlearning she’s dead. That grand, caring woman, her body lying still and cold at the morgue. I cannot bear it.
She would want me to do my job, so I’ll do just that. I must clear my mind and get to work. I put on my uniform, check my trolley, then push it out of the room. I step into the elevator and press 16. I only make it to the second floor before I hit theSTOPbutton and drop to the floor, weeping.
chapterTHIRTY
I cannot sleep. I sit on my bed and stare straight ahead, sick to my stomach and trying to think clear.
Today, I did the stupidest thing I could have done.
Mr. Carboni was the first one the police took to the station to talk about Mrs. Evans. No one’s surprised, since the two were always at each other. Besides, Mr. Carboni is, well, he’s Mr. Carboni, isn’t he? When he was gone, I went to clean his suite. I breathe easier when he’s not there. But then I went and made everything worse.
The nightstand drawer opened easy enough, and my hand didn’t shake a bit. What’s that say about myself and my character? Am I becoming a criminal?
There was no gun, but the book lay there like it waited for me. I carried it to the window so the sunlight lit the pages. My heart quickened, seeing that the pages looked very different from the last time I looked. Almost every item on his list was crossed out. Sure, and a few disturbing things had been added.
RUSSO
