Chapter 8

8

Irena sits alone in the back seat of a patrol car, hunched over in her spring jacket, trying to get warm. It’s a bright day, but it’s only April and still cool. Or maybe it’s the shock. She’s shivering and she feels nauseated too. She can’t stop thinking about Fred and Sheila. All that blood, the stench of it. The look on Sheila’s face, staring up at her, as if she wanted to say something. Sheila probably knew who her killer was, but she’s not going to be able to tell anyone.

Irena trembles and waits. She notices there is blood on her shoes.

One of the officers opens the car door and pops his head in. “The detectives would like to talk to you now, if that’s all right,” he says.

She nods and gets out of the car. Two people are walking toward her—a tall, dark-haired man, probably about forty, and a woman who is shorter and younger. Both are in plain clothes. Irena swallows nervously.

“Hello,” the man says. “I’m Detective Reyes and this is Detective Barr of Aylesford Police. I understand you found the victims.” She nods. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

She nods again, then realizes this is confusing and says, “I don’t mind.” But she is shaking like a leaf.

Reyes turns to Barr and says, “There’s a blanket in the trunk, can you grab it?”

She lopes off, returning with a navy wool blanket, which she drapes over Irena’s shivering shoulders.

“It’s the shock,” Reyes tells her. He raises his eyes to the yard and says, “Why don’t we go sit in the gazebo—we can talk there.”

They make their way across the lawn to the pretty structure, where she settles on a bench, hugging the blanket around her, and faces the two detectives. She used to play in here with the children, a long time ago.

“Can we have your name, please?” Barr asks.

“Irena Dabrowski.” She spells it out, watching the female detective write it down. Irena may have a Polish name but her English is perfect and unaccented. Her parents came here when she was a baby.

“I understand you’re the Mertons’ cleaning lady,” Reyes says. She nods. “How long have you been working for them?”

“A long time,” she begins. “I started when their first child was born. I was a live-in nanny here for many years—till the last child went to school. Then I continued on as housekeeper, and then as their cleaning lady. I come in twice a week now.”

“So you know the family well.”

“Very well. They’re like my own family.” She realizes she should probably be crying, but she just feels numb. Irena breathes in fresh air, trying to dispel the smell of blood.

“It’s okay,” Barr says gently. “Take your time.”

“I just can’t believe it,” she says eventually.

“When was the last time you saw the Mertons alive?” Reyes asks.

“It was on Sunday, at Easter dinner. I was here all-day Saturday, cleaning. They were having the family for Easter, and Sheila wanted the place spotless. I had extra polishing to do. And then I came back on Sunday, to join them for dinner.”

“Who came to dinner?”

“The kids were all there. Catherine, the eldest, and her husband, Ted. Dan, the middle one, and his wife, Lisa. And Jenna, the youngest. She brought a boyfriend. They always come home for holiday meals—it was expected. Usually Fred’s sister, Audrey, comes, too, but she wasn’t there on Sunday.” She looks up at them. “Do the kids know yet?” she asks the detectives. “Have they been told?”

“Not yet,” Reyes says.

“They’ll be absolutely devastated,” she says.

“Will they?” Barr says, looking out from the gazebo to the house, which is worth millions.

What an extraordinarily tactless thing to say, Irena thinks. She glances at Reyes as if to convey this thought to him. Barr doesn’t miss it and she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I imagine they stand to inherit quite a lot of money,” Barr says.

“I suppose so,” Irena agrees coolly.

Reyes says, “So you came here this morning—was it to clean the house?”

She averts her eyes and looks at the house instead. “Yes. I usually do Mondays and Thursdays, but Monday was a holiday, so I didn’t come in till today.”

“Take us through what happened when you got here. Every step.”

She breathes deeply and exhales. “I drove in at just after ten thirty. It was very quiet, none of the cars were in the driveway. I knocked like I usually do, but no one answered. I let myself in—the door was unlocked, so I assumed they were home.”

“Go on.”

“As soon as I got inside, I noticed the smell and saw the blood in the hallway. I was afraid. I saw the lamp on the floor, and then I saw Sheila.”

“Did you go near her body?”

She nods, remembering. She notices that her hands are still trembling in her lap. “But I didn’t touch her. Then I went to the kitchen, and—I saw him.” She swallows, forcing the bile down.

“Did you go inside the kitchen?” Reyes asks.

She suddenly feels dizzy. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s just that there’s blood on the bottom of your shoes,” Barr says.

She looks at Barr, startled. “I must have—it was so shocking, but yes, I remember now—I walked up to Fred and looked down at him.” She swallows again.

“Did you touch him, or touch anything in the kitchen?” Reyes asks.

She looks at her hands in her lap, turns them over, as if looking for telltale blood. They’re clean. “I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t walk over to the sink?” Reyes presses.

She feels confused now. “Yes—I was afraid I was going to throw up. I did throw up, in the sink. And I washed it down.”

She knows she’s being a little unclear, but what do they expect? She’s never been in this situation before. It’s completely unnerved her.

“It’s okay,” Reyes says. “Do you know if the Mertons had any enemies? Anyone you can think of who might do this?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think they did.” She pauses and adds, “But you never really know, do you?” She looks at them. “I mean, I just come in to clean the house now. I don’t live here anymore.”

“What about security?” Reyes asks. “Was there any?”

“No. There are some security cameras set up around the house, but they’ve never worked, as far as I know. They’re just for show.”

Barr asks, “Did they keep any valuables in the house?”

Irena looks back at her, thinking that this young detective must be a bit of an idiot. “The house is full of valuables. The paintings are worth quite a lot, the silver, her jewelry, and so on.”

“What about cash?” Reyes asks.

“There’s a safe in Fred’s study, on the first floor at the back of the house. I’m not sure what they keep in it.”

“We’d like you to go through the house with us and take a quick look to see if anything is missing. Do you think you can do that?”

“I don’t want to go back into the kitchen,” she whispers.

“I think we can skip the kitchen, for now,” Reyes says. “Is there anyone else who works on the property, a gardener, perhaps?”

She shakes her head. “They use a service.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have contact info for the three children, would you?” Barr asks.

Irena reaches for her phone. “Yes, of course.”