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Alice gave her a nasty look that she didn’t see, but she smiled at Tom. “Of course. Coming right up,” she said cheerfully.
Tom followed May into the living room and sat in one of the cushy armchairs beside the marble coffee table. May lounged on the sofa. She wasn’t bad looking for a woman her age, he considered, but she had eyes like a shark. Dark and cold and predatory.
“Are you married, Agent Jones?” she asked with a coy glance.
“Married to my job,” he replied. “What can you tell me about Mrs. Downing?”
She blinked, as if she hadn’t expected the sudden change of subject. “Well, she was dying of lung cancer when I was hired to look after her. Poor little thing,” she said with unconvincing sympathy. “I did everything possible to make her comfortable.”
“Odd. I was told that Julie did most of the cleaning up,” he said suddenly, and pinned her with his dark eyes.
“Well, Julie did help,” she conceded, and her face flushed. She looked like a trapped animal.
“Have you been in the employ of any local citizens, before you came here?” he asked.
“No. Not here.”
“You worked someplace else?” His voice was deep and slow and precise. But the cold stare that went with the words backed down anything May might have said in defense of her own position here.
“I, uh, I worked farther north,” she said.
“Where?”
“I . . . c-can’t remember at the moment,” she stammered.
Alice came in with coffee, giving May time to get herself back in order. She didn’t bother to thank Alice. Tom did.
He picked up the cup of black coffee May poured for him, declining any condiments. “This is good,” he remarked.
“Mr. Downing only has the best,” May said. “He prefers Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. It’s one of the most expensive coffees in the world,” she added.
And she’d know, he said to himself. “How was Mr. Downing around his wife?” Tom asked after a minute.
“Well, he was sad, of course. We all knew she was dying and that nothing could be done for her. The doctor came out twice a day, just at the last.”
“Don’t they have hospice here?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Of course they do. It’s just that Mr. Downing values his privacy. He doesn’t like strangers around.”
His dark eyes were steady on her face. She actually squirmed in her chair.
His gaze went back to his smartphone and the notes application he’d pulled up. “Julie was found in the evening, but preliminary reports from the crime lab put the time of death anywhere from six to eight hours before the ransom was paid.” He looked up at her. “In other words, Julie was dead before the ransom was ready to be delivered.”
She cleared her throat. “I guess the kidnapper wanted a long head start, don’t you think?”
“That would be my guess. Although it would take a hardhearted criminal to leave a young woman out in the cold to freeze to death. It’s a particularly unpleasant way to die.”
“I imagine so.” She smiled at him.
He thought how inappropriate that smile was, and that he needed to do a lot of digging into May Strickland’s background before he asked her any more questions.
He put away the smartphone, finished his coffee, and got to his feet. He glanced at May. “Thanks for your cooperation,” he said. “I may have a question or two later, but I think that’s all for now.”
She stood up, relaxed now. “No problem,” she said. “Any time.”
He nodded and went out of the room and into the kitchen, where Alice was working on a cake.
She turned as he entered and smiled. “Did you find the barbeque place all right?” she asked brightly, just as May came to the door.
