Page 156 of The Housekeeper


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“About Harrison? Nothing. At least not yet. Not till we’ve sorted out what to do about Elyse.”

“Whatcanwe do?”

“Well, the one good thing about discovering that my husband is a lying son of a bitch is that Elyse no longer has anything to hold over my head. I no longer care if Harrison finds out about Roger. In fact, I think I’ll enjoy watching the look on his face when he sees those pictures of me as much I will seeing his reaction to those missing emails.”

“Look at you, discovering your inner cunt,” Tracy said.

This time I laughed out loud. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Meant as one.”

I started the car’s engine and pulled onto the street.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Forty College Street.”

“What’s there?”

“Police headquarters.”


The main branch of the Toronto Police Service is a twelve-story, postmodern, brown-brick-and-glass building in the heart of the city. Tracy and I approached the long reception counter in the middle of the bright, spacious lobby. “I’m Jodi Bishop and this is my sister Tracy Dundas,” I told the uniformed officer behind the counter. “We’re here to see Officers Stankowski and Lewis. I called earlier.”

The officer directed us to the bank of glass elevators to our right. Officers Stankowski and Lewis were waiting for us in interview room 710.

“Mrs. Bishop,” Officer Stankowski said. “Nice to see you again. Please have a seat.” He motioned us toward a beige leather sofa across from two similarly upholstered chairs. “How can we help you?”

“We understand that you specifically requested to speak to us,” Officer Lewis said, leaning against the unimpressive desk in front of the large window overlooking a tree-filled inner courtyard.

“Yes. We need some advice, and since you’re already somewhat familiar with the family dynamics—”

“I assume we’re talking about the incident with your father some months back, when he accused you of stealing your mother’s jewelry,” Officer Lewis interrupted, making a show of reviewing his notes, something I was quite sure both officers had already done.

“My sister and I are very concerned about our father’s welfare,” I said, ignoring the reference to the supposed theft of the jewelry.

The officers sat down in the chairs across from us. Officer Stankowski took out his notepad, his ballpoint pen poised tocapture anything he considered worth jotting down. “What are your concerns?” he asked.

“We’re concerned that he could be in danger,” I began.

“We think he married a gold digger and that she might be planning to do him harm,” Tracy clarified.

“A gold digger,” Officer Lewis repeated.

“What kind of harm?” Officer Stankowski asked.

“His housekeeper,” I explained, answering the easier of the two questions. “You met her.”

“Oh, yes. Charming woman, as I recall.”

“She gives that impression, yes,” I agreed.

“You think otherwise?”

“We think she’s after our father’s money.”

“That may very well be true,” the officer conceded. “But, unfortunately, that’s not a crime.”

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