CHAPTER TEN
Carmen rang the bell for the second time.
After waiting half a minute, she rapped on the front door, first politely, and then more loudly.
She didn’t love using the key that the Hartwells had given her.
It always made her feel like she was trespassing.
But Mrs. Hartwell had told her that if no one answered, she could come in.
Sometimes they were out of town or just running some errand and forgot that she was coming.
It looked like this was one of those times.
So Carmen unlocked the door. She was ready to use the security code to turn off the alarm, but it wasn’t on. She found that unusual. The Hartwells rarely forgot to activate it and even requested that if she left the house after them, she should turn it on.
“Mrs. Hartwell?” she called out from the foyer, “It’s Carmen. I’m here for the cleaning.”
She waited for a response. It was possible that the Hartwells had simply forgotten that she was coming today.
She usually came to clean their Cheviot Hills mansion on Mondays and Thursdays, but she’d asked Mrs. Hartwell if she could come a day early this week, on Wednesday.
Her son was starting college next week, and she was going to help him move into his dorm room tomorrow. Mrs. Hartwell said it wasn’t a problem.
“Mrs. Hartwell?” she called out again. She remembered that Mr. Hartwell was away all this week at some conference, so he wouldn’t be around. But Mrs. Hartwell liked to ease into her mornings and didn’t usually leave the house until after 9. It was only 8 A.M. right now.
“I’m coming in!” she announced one final time. That was certainly enough warning. If anyone was undressed or secretly having an affair—which Carmen seriously doubted—she had given them more than enough time to handle things.
She closed the door and walked in. She usually liked to give the house a once-over before starting to clean. She preferred to know which areas needed the most work. The kitchen and main bedroom were standard on every visit, but sometimes other sections of the place only needed a bit of attention.
She walked through the house, making mental notes of what had to be done. The kitchen wasn’t too bad today. The living room was a little messier than usual. She didn’t bother with Mr. Hartwell’s study since he hadn’t been in it since her last visit.
She was about to check out the bedroom when she passed by the dining room. She usually did that every Thursday, so it would be in good shape if the Hartwells were entertaining over the weekend. As she glanced in, she gave a little yelp.
“Oh my goodness, you startled me!” she said.
Mrs. Hartwell was sitting at the dining room table with her head down, resting on her hands.
Her longish black hair was spread out on the table, like an inkblot that had spread.
It looked like she was taking a nap, though this certainly wasn’t the most comfortable place for one.
Why in the world had she woken up, changed into nice clothes, and then come in here to sleep?
“Mrs. Hartwell?” she said delicately. It occurred to her that the woman hadn’t reacted when she squealed at seeing her. An unpleasant thought popped into her head.
What if Mrs. Hartwell hadn’t changed into these clothes today? What if this was what she wore last night? Was it possible that the woman, lonely and bored without her husband around, had drunk herself into a stupor and passed out in here?
It seemed unlikely. Carmen had never seen Mrs. Hartwell have more than a glass of chardonnay in the early evening. A drunken night alone at the dining room table didn’t fit her. And Mrs. Hartwell wasn’t the lonely, bored type. She was always having friends over. No, this wasn’t right.
“Mrs. Hartwell, are you okay?” she asked, approaching the woman, who had yet to stir.
Even though it felt like a violation, and she was slightly worried that it would get her in trouble, Carmen gently shook her employer’s shoulder. Hartwell didn’t respond. And Carmen noticed that even through the woman’s top, her skin was cold to the touch.
“Mrs. Hartwell,” she said loudly. There was no way to sleep through that.
Carmen got a sinking feeling. Trying not to panic, she reached down and put her finger to the woman’s neck. It was cold too. And she felt no pulse.
Without pausing to think about it, she shook Mrs. Hartwell’s shoulder again, hoping against hope that it might somehow jog her awake. Instead, the movement made the woman slip out of the chair and flop face-first onto the carpet.
Carmen took a quick step back, catching her heel on the rug. It sent her tumbling to the floor as well, where she landed hard on her backside. The combination of her whole body being violently jarred and seeing Mrs. Hartwell slumped on the floor beside her shook her out of her shock.
That’s when she screamed.