The Maid's Diary(19)

“Go on. What happened at six fourteen p.m.?”

“The Glass House got visitors—that’s what everyone in the neighborhood calls Northview: the Glass House.”

“What visitors?”

“A couple in a dark-gray Audi. It pulled into the driveway at six fourteen p.m. At six fifteen p.m. the couple exited the Audi. The male was tall, well built, sandy-brown hair. The female was a brunette. Long wavy hair.”

“Very precise—sounds like a police report, Beulah.”

“Oh, I love detective and mystery stories, Sergeant. Watch them on all the streaming channels. I mean, what else am I to do? The British ones mostly. And I always used to read mysteries as a little girl in Yorkshire.” A wistful look deepens the old woman’s wrinkles. “One time I thought I might try to write my own. About a lady detective. One should follow one’s heart, you know, because before you realize it, your time on this earth is done and you’re at death’s door.”

Mal gently steers her back, a sense of urgency tightening. The first forty-eight hours of a homicide investigation are critical. Success could hinge on this old woman’s statement. But Mal can also see that rushing this old witness might backfire and have the opposite effect.

“Can you tell me anything else about this couple, Beulah?”

She consults her notes. “Well, the man was maybe forty years old. The woman a bit younger. She was very pregnant.”

Mal’s gaze narrows sharply. “Pregnant?”

“Yes, like Vanessa North is.”

“Vanessa North—the homeowner—is also pregnant?”

“She’s certainly showing now. I saw Vanessa last Friday. It was the first time I saw that brunette as well. The two of them had a late lunch by the pool. It was very clear they’re both pregnant.”

Mal’s pulse quickens. She thinks of all the blood, the signs of violence. Urgency bites harder. “Beulah, this couple who visited yesterday, were they carrying anything?”

Beulah consults her log. “Flowers. Mostly white. And something like a cake box. It looked like they were arriving as dinner guests.”

Mal makes another note. “What happened next?”

“I don’t know. My carer came, then it was dinner and bathing time, and I was put into bed, and I . . . I must have passed out with the medication. But I woke all hot and bothered in the dark. It was raining, and I realized a scream woke me. I managed to get into my chair and roll to the window. And that’s when I saw.”

“Saw what, Beulah?”

“All the lights were on next door—it was a great glowing box of glass. Even the pool light was on. Kind of a haunting, glowing green. The living room doors were wide open in spite of the rain, and the coffee table was upturned. Then I saw them, the couple, dressed in black rain gear, and they were tugging something heavy rolled up in that white carpet from the living room. Tugging it alongside the pool toward the yard gate. I know it was the carpet because when I looked with my binoculars this morning, it was gone. They dragged the carpet through the gate into the driveway. The motion sensor went on. It lit the rain up. It was also very foggy out.”

“Go on, Beulah. What happened next?”

“Well, they struggled quite a bit. That carpet looked heavy, and she was awkward because of her pregnant belly, but they got it into the back seat of the car. The Audi, not the other one.”

Frustration nips at Mal. “What other car?”

“The little yellow one. The maid’s Subaru with the Holly’s Help sign on the doors. The maid arrived earlier that morning. But her Subaru was still parked in the driveway when the couple arrived in the Audi. I assumed the maid was helping with catering, or waiting to clean up after dinner.”

“Could you tell if it was the woman from the Audi dragging the rug, or if it was Vanessa North, the homeowner?”

Beulah frowns. “I’m not sure which one. I wasn’t wearing my spectacles, and her head was covered by the hood of a voluminous raincoat. But I assumed it was the brunette, because she got into the Audi.”

“And the maid didn’t appear again?”

“No. After the carpet was put into the Audi, both cars sped away. Didn’t even pause at the stop sign at the end of the lane. You can see the sign from my corner window. The tires squealed, and they just sped right off into the darkness and fog. I was worried they would hit some trick-or-treaters, but I guess all the kids were in bed by that hour.”

“Did you see any movement in the house after that?”

“No. But I was also busy trying to call 911, and my phone was over there by my bed.”

“Can you describe the maid?”

“Late twenties or maybe thirty. About the same age as my cousin’s granddaughter. She’s dead, my cousin. She died last month.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Beulah. What was the maid wearing? What color is her hair?”

“Blonde. She’s pretty. I’ve seen her face through my binoculars. She always waves when she sees me. Sweet girl. She wears the Holly’s Help uniform—blue drawstring pants with a pink shirt. She wears her hair up in two little buns, like cat’s ears. Jaunty-looking. And she always wears a choker.” Beulah frowns. “Maybe it’s the hairstyle that makes me think she is younger, but she is perky like young people are. Peppy walk.” She reaches for her teacup. Her hands shake. She seems tired as she takes a slow sip of tea that must surely be cold by now. Her eyes water.