Chapter Twelve #3
“Sit,” Eve told her. “We may have an identification on the blonde. Ms. Fancy, you said?”
“Yes. In fact, Mr. Barrister called her that—Fancy or Ms. Fancy—in kind of an affectionate way. She was a guest here, I believe it was December, as we had the decorations up, the December before Mr. Barrister passed. She had the Peacock guest room, which … hmm, adjoins to the main suite. She was in residence, I believe, for several days, perhaps up to a week.”
“Do you have a first name?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“I think she was here a time or two before. For a dinner party,” Tyler added, and cleared his throat. “I believe she may have remained overnight, but, ah, not in a guest room on those occasions.”
“One of those breakfast in bed for twos?” Divine pointed at Tyler. “Mr. Henry always came down for breakfast unless he had company of that nature. That was usually eggs Benedict and mimosas. And you’d take the tray up.”
“Yes. While you learn to do your job without seeing certain details, I can recall a young blond woman. But again, there were others.”
“Tell me what you know or remember about this particular one. About Ms. Fancy.”
“I called her Ms. Fakey.” At Uma’s wince, Divine just shook a finger. “I’m going to say what I think.”
“I wish you would. Why Fakey?” Eve asked.
“’Cause she was. Fake, and snooty with it.
Didn’t you say how she told you she wanted you to hand-wash and press her panties, and said she expected her bed turned down every night at ten o’clock—no sooner, no later—and to leave a tray with a cup of jasmine tea?
” Divine closed her eyes a moment. “Yes, jasmine, lightly steeped, no cream, no sugar, and two macaroons, baked fresh.”
“I’d forgotten the macaroons.”
“I make it, I remember it. And didn’t she go out every blessed afternoon?
Sometimes Mr. Henry went with her, and even when he didn’t, she’d have a car and driver.
And wouldn’t she come back loaded with shopping bags?
She’d order you, John, to unload them and take them up to her room, and you, Uma, to unpack them and put everything away. Like she was queen of the place.”
“Can you describe her?”
“I didn’t see her much myself. Never once came back to the kitchen.”
“Very beautiful,” Uma offered. “I suppose mid-thirties, but it’s difficult to tell. Or I’m not particularly good at that. Long blond hair.” She waved her hands down to her shoulders. “I think blue eyes, but I’m not sure. Not brown.”
“Height, weight, race, accent?”
“Ah, five-four or -five, I suppose. She wore heels, even around the house. Slim, but curvy. Stylish, in a sophisticated way rather than trendy? No accent that I can recall.”
“Did she spend any time in the office?”
“As John said, you learn to do your job and not see. But yes, I believe they spent some time in there together.”
“They did,” Tyler confirmed.
“Would you work with a police artist?”
“Please.” Aileen reached out. “It could be important.”
“Yes, of course. I’m just afraid I might not be able to describe her well enough.”
“I’m going to arrange for a police artist to come to you. He’s very good.”
“Do you think she killed my father?” Chloe asked.
“I’d like to know if she has any connection to the break-in. Someone knew about the vault. If she did, I’d like to have a conversation with her. You had personal contact with her, too.”
Tyler nodded. “Yes.”
“He’ll work with both of you.”
“This is exciting. Oh, missus!” Divine hugged herself. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant. And it is exciting. Because it may be a step in finding out who did this to Nate. Who did this to all of us.”
“I hope it is. I pray it is.” Joy rose. “And not just a waste of time and effort.”
“You weren’t aware he had this houseguest during this time period?”
“I’d be the last he’d tell. He knew I didn’t approve of his predilection for young, grasping women. Nathan was more tactful about it, but Dad knew he and Aileen didn’t approve, either. I have to go in. I really need to handle things.”
Eve rose as well. “We appreciate the time. The police artist, Detective Yancy, will be in touch, arrange a time that’s convenient.”
Tyler stood from the table. “I’ll see you out.”
As they left, Eve heard Joy say, “Aileen, if you or the girls need anything while I’m gone, tag me. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I didn’t pay attention,” Tyler murmured. “She made him happy, and I didn’t pay enough attention. She was demanding and borderline rude, but she made him laugh. He was failing, and she brightened him up. I have no doubt who paid for the contents of all those shopping bags, but—”
“She made him happy. If you remember any more about her—something Henry or she said that might add something, where she comes from, where she was going—you know how to reach me or Detective Peabody.”
“Yes. Uma and I will make ourselves available for Detective Yancy.”
As they got into the car, Peabody looked at Eve. “Fancy Blonde’s in it.”
“If she’s not, it’s a big, fat coincidence. What do I think about coincidences, Peabody?”
“That they’re bollocks. Bollocks, it’s a good word. I should use it more.”
“If anyone can get a face, it’s Yancy.”
“And that’s no bollocks.”
“See when we can get him on this. I need to go back to Central. I’ve got to check in with EDD, then meet with Mira, and there’s that goddamn fucking media conference, and we need to talk to the estate lawyer.”
Peabody pulled out her ’link to contact Yancy. “Why do you figure men go after women half their age—or in this case about a quarter of his age?”
“Because, no matter how old a man is, he thinks with his dick.”
“Oh yeah. There’s that. Well…” She paused before making the contact. “I think it’s more the penis often has, especially in this case, undue influence over the cerebral cortex.”
“Not as pithy but more accurate. Actually, I think, especially after a certain age, being with someone half or more of that stops them from thinking about their mortality. She made him happy,” Eve repeated. “So he wasn’t thinking about death.”
“Okay, that hits, and it’s worth some high-end shopping bags. But not the rest.”
“No. And if she’s involved in the rest, and my gut’s saying she sure as hell is, we’ll get her for it.”