The Housemaid(89)

Robert reaches out and gently touches his son’s shoulder. I wonder if he had any idea what a monster Andy was. He had to have some idea. Or maybe Andy was just that good at hiding it. After all, I had no idea until I was scraping my fingernails against the wood of the attic door.

Robert claps a hand over his mouth. He shakes his head and grunts “Excuse me” to his wife, then he hurries out of the room. Leaving me alone with Evelyn.

Of all the people I wouldn’t want to be alone with today, Evelyn tops the list. Evelyn isn’t dumb. She must have known the problems I had in my marriage. Like Robert, she might not have known what he did to me, but she must have sensed the friction between us.

She must have sensed how I really felt about him.

“Nina,” she says drily.

“Evelyn,” I say.

She looks down at Andy’s face. I try to read her expression, but it’s hard. I don’t know if it’s all the Botox or if she always looked that way.

“You know,” she says, “I spoke to an old friend at the police station about Andy.”

My stomach clenches. According to Detective Connors, the case is closed. Andy always taunted me about an alleged letter to the station police that would be sent over in case of his death, but no letter ever materialized. I was never sure if it was because there never was a letter or if the detective got rid of it.

“Oh?” is all I can manage.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “They told me how he looked when they found him.” Her shrewd eyes bore into me. “They told me about his missing teeth.”

Oh God. She knows.

She definitely knows. Anyone aware of the state of Andy’s mouth when the police found him had to know that his death was not accidental. Nobody yanks their own teeth out with pliers. Not willingly.

It’s all over. When I walk out of this funeral home, the police will probably be waiting for me. They will snap handcuffs on my wrists and read me my rights. And then I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison.

I won’t tell anyone about Millie though. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down too. She gave me a chance to be free. I’m going to leave her out of it.

“Evelyn,” I choke out. “I… I don’t…”

Her eyes drift back to her son’s face, at his long eyelashes, closed forever. She purses her lips. “I always told him,” she says, “how important dental hygiene is. I told him he had to brush every night, and when he didn’t, there would be a punishment. There’s always a punishment when you break the rules.”

What? What is she saying?

“Evelyn…”

“If you don’t take care of your teeth,” she continues, “then you lose the privilege to have teeth.”

“Evelyn?”

“Andy knew that. He knew that was my rule.” She lifts her eyes. “When I pulled out one of his baby teeth with pliers, I thought he understood.”

I stare at her, too afraid to speak. Too afraid of the next words that will leave her mouth. And when they finally come, it takes my breath away:

“It’s such a shame,” she says, “that he never really learned. I’m glad you stepped up and taught him a lesson.”

My jaw is hanging open as Evelyn makes one last adjustment to her son’s white shirt collar. Then she walks out of the funeral home, leaving me behind.





EPILOGUE





MILLIE





“Tell me about yourself, Millie.”

I lean against the marble kitchen counter across from Lisa Killeffer. Lisa herself is immaculate this morning, her black hair shiny and pulled into an elaborate French knot behind her head, the buttons on her cream-colored short-sleeved blouse glimmering in the skylights of what appears to be a newly renovated kitchen.

If I get this job, it will be my first in nearly a year. I’ve had a few odd jobs here and there since what happened at the Winchester house, but I’ve been living off the deposit of a year’s salary that Nina made to my bank account shortly after Andrew’s death was ruled accidental.

I still don’t quite understand how she managed that one.

Well…” I begin. “I grew up in Brooklyn. I’ve had a lot of jobs doing housework for people, as you can see from my resume. And I love children.”

“Wonderful!”

Lisa’s lips spread into a smile. Her enthusiasm since the moment I walked in here has been surprising, given she must have had dozens of candidates applying for this housekeeper job. I didn’t even apply for this one. It was Lisa who contacted me on the website where I placed an ad offering my cleaning and nannying services.

The salary is great, which isn’t surprising, because this house reeks of wealth. The kitchen boasts all the newest appliances, and I’m fairly sure the stove can cook dinner itself from scratch without any intervention. I really want this job, and I’m trying to project confidence. I try to think of the text message from Enzo that I received this morning:

Good luck, Millie. Remember they will be lucky to have you.





And then:

See you tonight after you get the job.





“What are you looking for exactly?” I ask her.

“Oh, the usual.” Lisa leans against the kitchen counter next to me and tugs at the collar of her blouse. “Somebody to keep the house clean. Laundry. Some light cooking.”