Page 83 of Dark Ugly Places

I nod, just once.

“I have some unfortunate news on the dry cleaning.”

Bambi stares. “Yes?”

“The stains. They weren’t able to remove them.”

Bambi blinks. “What stains?”

“On the linens.”

Her face is blank until a wave of something hits her hard and fast. She breaks, ever so slightly. If you blinked, you might have missed it. “I told the dry cleaner to throw those away.”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t,” I tell her. “They’re upstairs.”

Bambi shifts her weight, something sparking within her. “Well, go get them, would you?”

“The cleaners said to tell you they gave you 10 percent off. Since it’s not the first time they couldn’t get the stains out.”

Her eyes narrow. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Redfern.”

“Well, that was nice of them. Wine stains are difficult to get out, after all.”

I lean forward, feeling suddenly intense. A long sigh escapes me. “Mrs. Redfern, can I ask you something?”

“Yes. What?”

“Why did you hire me?”

“What, Martha?”

“I mean, did you really want someone to sit here and just, you know, pretend along with you?”

A flash of anger breaches her. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a serious question. Is that what you hired me for? To play pretend?”

Her expression hardens. “I don’t like your tone, Martha.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Redfern.”

Her eyes narrow, like I’ve said something offensive.

“I haven’t seen a bottle of red wine in this house since I set foot in here, and since I’m in charge of shopping and groceries now, I think I’d know if a bottle were here. I also know for a fact your husband only drinks Macallan and beer.”

Bambi crosses her arms over her chest, making herself appear smaller. “And?” Her eyes dart around the room, searching the walls and the floor.

“How many times has this happened, Mrs. Redfern?”

“Martha, this conversation is over.” She stands.

I stay seated. “No, it isn’t.”

Bambi turns, shock evident behind her composure.

“How many times has this happened, Mrs. Redfern?”