Chương 2
Graham glanced at Claire.
“Did you see her put the recorder into the bag?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did you see?”
“Graham.”
He looked at his wife.
“What?”
“You’re interrogating her before asking me a single question.”
“I asked you about the device.”
“No. You made a statement.”
“Then I’m asking now.” He nodded toward the handbag. “Is that recorder yours?”
Lillian gave a short laugh.
Claire had heard that laugh at charity dinners when guests said things Lillian considered stupid but socially inconvenient to call stupid.
“You cannot possibly be serious.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I have never seen that thing in my life.”
Claire looked down.
Graham caught the movement.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Claire.”
She wished he had not used her name.
Lillian hated when he used her name during disagreements. It seemed to make Claire a person in the room instead of a uniform.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Claire looked at Lillian.
The older woman’s eyes were fixed on her now.
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“I saw the light before.”
Graham’s face changed.
Lillian’s did not.
“What light?” he asked.
“The red one.”
“Where?”
Claire folded her hands together to stop herself from pulling at the white cuff of her gray dress.
“In the library yesterday.”
Lillian exhaled through her nose.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Graham turned fully toward Claire.
“Yesterday when?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You always know exactly.”
The words came from Lillian.
Claire looked at her.
Lillian smiled without warmth.
“You check clocks constantly. You’re terrified of being late. You know exactly when.”
Claire resented the accuracy more than she resented the insult.
“About four twenty.”
Graham looked toward the staircase leading from the foyer.
“The library was locked yesterday.”
“I know.”
“How were you in it?”
“I wasn’t.”
Lillian’s brows lifted.
Claire kept going.
“I was in the hallway. Mrs. Mercer came out.”
“Stop calling me that as though we’re strangers,” Lillian said.
Claire did stop.
Not because of the request. Because she could not think of what else to call her.
Graham’s gaze remained on Claire.
“And?”
“She had something black in her hand. Small. I saw the red light.”
“You saw a black object,” Lillian said. “In my hand. For perhaps two seconds.”
Claire nodded.
“Yes.”
“And from this remarkable observation you’ve determined it was that recorder?”
“No.”
Lillian seemed briefly surprised.
Claire pointed at the bag.
“I determined it was that recorder when I saw you take it from your dress pocket today and put it into your purse.”
Silence.
The chandelier hummed faintly above them.
Claire had never noticed that sound before.
Graham did.
His eyes lifted for an instant, perhaps because the tiny electrical vibration gave him somewhere else to put his attention.
Then he faced his wife.
“When?”
Lillian answered before Claire could.
“This is absurd.”
“When did she supposedly see you?”
“I said it’s absurd.”
“Lillian.”
“She is an employee who has been caught with a recording device in my handbag.”
“No,” Graham said. “A recording device was found in your handbag. Those are different sentences.”
Claire saw the anger arrive in Lillian’s face slowly.
She was beautiful when she was angry, which Claire had always considered one of the unfairer things about her. The anger sharpened the sleek black bob around her chin and made her pale skin look almost luminous beside the deep navy of her dress.
“You enjoy this,” Lillian said.
Graham’s forehead tightened.
“What?”
“This moment. You enjoy having a reason.”
“A reason for what?”
“You know.”
Claire did not.
Whatever passed between them belonged to a conversation that had started long before she entered the foyer.
Graham looked tired suddenly.
“Not in front of Claire.”
Lillian laughed again.
“Now you’re protecting her.”
“I’m protecting neither of you. I’m trying to understand why a recorder that requires a phone connection is blinking inside your purse while you’re accusing the housekeeper of planting it.”
“Then check her phone.”
Claire’s head came up.
Lillian pointed at her.
“There. Simple. Give him your phone.”
Claire stared.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Graham’s voice hardened.
“No.”
Lillian looked at him.
“No?”
“You don’t get to demand her phone.”
“If she has nothing to hide—”
“That sentence doesn’t improve when you say it louder.”
“I’m not saying it louder.”
“You’re getting there.”
Claire could feel her pulse in her fingertips.
Her phone was in the hidden pocket sewn into the side seam of her uniform. Lillian disliked staff carrying phones visibly, although there was only one member of staff in the house during most weekdays now.
Claire had nothing on it that concerned the Mercers.
That was not entirely the same as having nothing to hide.
There were texts from her sister about money.
Pictures of the mold stain around the ceiling vent in her apartment.
An unsent draft of an application essay for a nursing program she had already postponed twice.
A note titled THINGS TO PAY that she opened so often she no longer needed to open it.
There was a photograph of her father asleep in a hospital chair with his mouth open and a paper coffee cup balanced on his stomach.
There were ugly selfies.
There were searches made at two in the morning.
How much does dental crown cost no insurance.
Can employer fire domestic worker without notice.
Why do I hear heartbeat in ear when stressed.
Those things had nothing to do with a recorder.
That did not make them Lillian’s.
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
Lillian stared at her.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
The fear was still there. Claire could hear it in her own voice. But another feeling had joined it.
Anger, perhaps.
Or exhaustion.
She had spent so long being careful in this house that one clear word felt almost reckless.
Lillian took a step toward her.
“You are standing in my home after accusing me of framing you, and you refuse to show us your phone?”
“Yes.”
“That is extraordinary.”
May you like
“It’s mine.”
Lillian looked at Graham as though expecting him to correct Claire’s grammar.
