Fool Me Once(30)

Maya felt that jolt. She tried to stay very still. “Tell me.”

“Claire was acting . . . not weirdly or anything but . . . there was one thing.”

Maya nodded, trying to encourage her to say more.

“We were having lunch at Baumgart’s one day. This was a week, maybe two, before the murder. Her cell phone rang. She turned all white. Now normally she answers the phone in front of me. We don’t really have secrets, you know that.”

“Go on.”

“But this time, Claire grabbed the phone and hurried outside. I looked out the window and I could see she was all animated. She was on for maybe five minutes, then she came back.”

“Did she tell you who was on the phone?”

“No.”

“Did you ask?”

“Yes. She said it was nothing . . .”

“I hear a ‘but.’”

“But it clearly wasn’t nothing.” Eileen shook her head. “How could I not make her tell me? How could I just . . . ? Anyway, she was distracted the rest of lunch. I tried to raise it a few more times, but she just shut me down. Jesus. I should have done more.”

“I don’t know what more you could have done.” Maya thought about it. “The police would have gone through her phone records anyway. They would have looked into all her calls.”

“That’s just it.”

“What?”

“The phone.”

“What about it?”

“It wasn’t hers.”

Maya leaned forward. “Come again?”

“Her normal phone, the one with the case with the kids’ picture on it, was still on the table,” Eileen said. “Claire was carrying a second phone.”





Chapter 10


The Burkett servants lived in a complex of small homes on the back edge of the Farnwood estate, just left of the delivery entrance. The homes were all one level and reminded Maya of army barracks. The largest belonged to the Mendezes, Isabella’s family. Isabella’s mother, Rosa, still worked in the main house, though it was hard to say what she did now that all the children were grown.

Maya knocked on Isabella’s door. There was no sign of life, but these were hardworking people. Their hours were insane. Maya was far from a socialist, but she found it ironic how much the Burketts complained about staff and workers, really believing that this country was a meritocracy, when everything had been handed to them because, two generations earlier, a grandfather had found a way to exploit real estate laws. She knew most of the Burketts wouldn’t last a week working their servants’ hours.

Hector’s Dodge Ram pickup pulled in behind her. He parked a good distance from her and stepped out.

“Mrs. Burkett?” He looked scared.

“Where’s Isabella?”

“I think you better leave.”

Maya shook her head. “Not until I talk to Isabella.”

“She isn’t here.”

“Where is she?”

“She went away.”

“Away where?”

Hector shook his head.

“I just want to apologize,” Maya said. “It was all a misunderstanding.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.” He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “I think you better leave now.”

“Where is she, Hector?”

“I’m not going to tell you. You really scared her.”

“I need to talk to her. You can stay in the room. Make sure she’s safe or whatever.”

A voice from behind her said, “That’s not going to happen.”

Maya turned and saw Isabella’s mother standing there. She gave Maya a withering glare and said, “Leave.”

“No.”

Her eyes flicked toward her son. “Come inside, Hector.”

Giving wide berth, Hector made his way through the door. With one more glare, Isabella’s mother closed it behind both of them, leaving Maya outside.

She should have been prepared for this.

Back off, Maya told herself. Think it through.

Her cell phone sounded. She checked and saw that the call was from Shane.

“Hey,” she said.

“I looked up that license plate for you,” Shane said without preamble. “Your Buick Verano is leased by a company called WTC Limited.”

WTC. Didn’t ring a bell. “Any idea what that stands for?”

“None. The address is a post office box in Houston, Texas. It looks like some kind of holding company.”

“The kind of thing someone uses when they want to stay anonymous?”

“Yep. If we want to learn more, I’ll need to get a warrant. And to get that, I’d need a reason for looking into this.”

“Just forget it,” she said.

“If you say so.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t lie to me, Maya. I hate that.”

She didn’t reply.

“When you’re ready to come clean, call me.”

Shane hung up.


*

Eddie hadn’t changed the locks.

Maya hadn’t been back to Claire’s house—yep, still thinking of it as such—since pulling down Coach Phil’s pants. There were no cars in the driveway. Nobody answered her knock. So she took out the key and let herself in. As she entered the foyer, Eddie’s words floated back down to her.