Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN MY KITCHEN
Rosa's father was alive.
She had known for eleven months.
She hadn't told me.
At that point, I began to wonder whether there was a single honest person inside my penthouse.
“I can explain,” she said.
“I am developing an allergy to that sentence.”
Rosa almost smiled.
Almost.
Then she put Lily to sleep in the guest room before returning.
Her story was simpler than Diana's.
And somehow sadder.
Walter Briggs abandoned Rosa and her mother when Rosa was nine.
For years, Rosa believed he was dead.
Then eleven months earlier, he approached her outside Lily's daycare.
“He told me he needed information about the Ellisons.”
“And you came to work for me?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“I already worked here.”
I checked the dates mentally.
She was right.
“So he found you because you worked for me.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn't.”
Good answer.
“He wanted schedules. Guest lists. Alarm information. I refused.”
“Why didn't you report him?”
“Because he threatened Lily's father.”
“Where is Lily's father?”
“Rikers.”
Another thing I hadn't known.
Rosa looked ashamed.
“He was arrested for armed robbery before Lily was born. We're not together. But he is still her father.”
Walter threatened to arrange violence against him in prison if Rosa went to police.
“So you've been living with this for eleven months?”
“Yes.”
“Why stay employed here?”
“I needed the job.”
Of course.
The answer was humiliating in its simplicity.
To me, leaving a job was a decision.
To Rosa, it was rent.
Daycare.
Groceries.
Health insurance.
Different worlds inside the same kitchen.
“Did Grant ever speak to you about Walter?”
“Twice.”
“What did he say?”
“The first time, he asked whether my father had contacted me.”
I stared.
“How did he know?”
“I don't know.”
“The second?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Her face tightened.
“He offered me two hundred thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“To tell him if my father contacted me again.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because men don't offer housekeepers two hundred thousand dollars for harmless information.”
Fair.
I called Adrian.
Grant's access to the building was suspended.
Then I did something I'd never done before.
I asked Rosa to sit at my dining table.
She hesitated.
“Mr. Ellison—”
“Marcus.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“That's probably inappropriate.”
“Tonight has destroyed my relationship with appropriate.”
She sat.
We spent the next three hours comparing what we knew.
Thomas Vale.
Walter Briggs.
My father.
Grant.
The missing money.
The ledger.
Then Rosa remembered something Lily had said weeks earlier.
“Mr. Brown Hair.”
“What?”
“She told me a brown-haired man gave Diana a letter in the hallway. I thought she meant a delivery driver.”
“Grant has brown hair.”
“So do thousands of men.”
“True.”
Lily woke at two in the morning asking for water.
I brought it.
She stared at me sleepily.
“You're the tall man.”
Apparently my identity had been simplified.
“Yes.”
“Mommy says you're her boss.”
“I am.”
“Do you boss Mommy?”
I considered.
“Less than I used to.”
She accepted that.
Then she pointed at the rabbit.
“Bunny knows secrets.”
Of course he did.
“What secrets?”
“Bunny heard the man.”
My heart rate changed.
“What man?”
Rosa appeared in the doorway.
“Marcus, she's tired.”
“I know.”
I kept my voice gentle.
“What did Bunny hear?”
Lily hugged him.
“The man said fire.”
“What else?”
“He said Uncle Grant.”
Rosa and I looked at each other.
“What did he say about Uncle Grant?”
Lily frowned.
Children don't retrieve memories like files.
They give you fragments.
Sounds.
Pictures.
Feelings.
“He said…”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Grant doesn't know.”
“Doesn't know what?”
“I don't know.”
That was all.
And it was enough.
Everyone—including me—had started looking at Grant as the obvious villain.
But Walter Briggs had said Grant didn't know something.
What?
At 3:14 a.m., Diana called.
I almost didn't answer.
Then I did.
“Marcus.”
She was whispering.
“Where are you?”
“My apartment.”
“What's wrong?”
“Someone broke in.”
I stood.
“Get out.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because he's still here.”
A floorboard creaked through the phone.
Then a man's voice said:
“Give me the phone, Diana.”
Walter Briggs.
Diana screamed.
May you like
The call ended.
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