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“Mrs. Counsel.”
“Who wasn’t preoccupied or distracted?”
“I said she wasn’t!”
“Though she killed herself just hours later.”
“She wouldn’t do such a thing—” Again, the cook seemed to realize the trap. “I mean, I never saw any signs.”
“What do you think happened?” D.D. asked curiously.
Her change in tone seemed to catch the cook off guard. “What do you mean? I heard she was found hanging. There was a note. Suicide is suicide. What else could’ve happened?”
“What else indeed,” Kimberly commented from behind.
“Do you believe Mrs. Counsel committed suicide?” D.D. repeated. “Just hours after talking to you and ordering breakfast.”
“Sure,” the cook snapped.
No, Bonita signed. While Hélène made an agitated sound in her throat. The cook glared at both maids. They immediately turned their attention to the floor.
“Who else was here last night?” said Kimberly, now by the walk-in fridge.
“Eight guests. Mayor Howard. The girls and me.”
“Where does the help sleep?” Kimberly again.
“We have rooms in the basement. Nice rooms.” The cook shot Hélène a look.
“Do you each have your own room?”
“Yeah, they’re good rooms.”
“And in the summer? Clearly this place requires more than two maids during high season?”
“This house was built in the day and age of live-in servants. There’s plenty of space.”
“I want to see your rooms,” D.D. said.
“Ask the mayor. It’s his house.”
“How long have you worked here, Hélène?” Kimberly spoke up.
The maid didn’t seem to know how to answer. D.D. squatted back down. “It’s okay. If you have any concerns about your security, you may walk out with us right now. I will personally guarantee your safety.” She looked at Bonita as she said this.
“Now see here, I don’t like what you’re implying—”
“Hélène.”
“I started in January,” the woman whispered.
“Do you have your own room?”
“Yes.”
“Bathroom?”
“We share. Four girls to a bath. It is better... better than what I had back home.”
