“Tell him she quit. Like we practiced.”
Maisie looked at her father.
“But she’s locked in the laundry room.”
Julian turned toward his fiancée.
“You locked Anna inside?”
Estelle raised her voice.
“She stole my necklace.”
But Maisie had seen something Estelle hadn’t realized.
“I saw you put it in her pocket.”
Julian stood.
His eyes dropped to the brass key in Estelle’s hand.
“Give me the key.”
Instead, she closed her fingers around it.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Julian looked toward the doorway.
“Daniel. Open the laundry room.”
His security manager stepped into view.
Estelle turned.
“You cannot just ignore—”
“There’s a spare in the household cabinet,” Julian said. “Ask Mrs. Holloway.”
He wasn’t going to spend another minute negotiating over a door with a person who refused to open it.
Maisie had gone very still beside her chair.
Julian crouched in front of her.
“You did the right thing telling me.”
Her eyes moved toward Estelle.
“But we practiced.”
“I heard.”
“She said you’d be happier.”
Julian held out his hand.
“I need you to come with me.”
Maisie took it.
Behind them, Estelle said:
“You’re teaching her she can say anything.”
Julian looked back once.
“No. I’m going to find the woman you said had left.”
The dinner had not begun.
Three relatives were still standing near the windows with drinks.
The candles had been lit.
Maisie’s water glass waited beside a little folded napkin.
Only minutes earlier, Julian thought the evening’s most difficult decision would be how soon he could leave the table without offending his aunt.
Now his daughter walked beside him toward the service corridor, holding his hand so tightly her knuckles had gone pale.
He stopped before they reached the laundry room.
Daniel was there with Mrs. Holloway, the household manager.
The spare key turned.
The door opened.
Anna stood several feet back.
Her face was pale.
One hand rested against the edge of the worktable.
She had been crying, though she had clearly tried to make the evidence disappear before anyone saw.
