The Maid's Diary(39)

As they are about to exit their vehicle, Mal’s phone rings. It’s Lula.

“Hey, Lu. I’m putting you on speaker. What’ve you got?”

“Okay, no criminal record on file for either Daisy Rittenberg or her husband, Jon, but photographs that we’ve found of the couple match Beulah Brown’s description of the mystery pair who arrived at the Glass House in the Audi. We’re still gathering further information, but something has just come to our attention. The Rittenbergs of Rose Cottage are named as Kit Darling’s clients on the list that Holly’s Help sent us.” Lula pauses, apparently consulting the list. “Darling cleaned Rose Cottage up until October 27. She stopped four days before the incident at the Glass House.”

“The Rittenbergs canceled the contract?” Mal asks.

“No. Holly McGuire says it was Darling who asked to be removed from the Rose Cottage roster due to a sudden ‘scheduling conflict.’ McGuire said the request from Darling was unusual, but she also reiterated that Darling is one of her best employees, and that she’s been consistent over the eight years she’s worked for the service. McGuire’s sense was that something about the Rittenbergs had upset Darling, but Darling declined to offer any additional input when McGuire pressed. McGuire thus ceded to her employee’s request—she wanted to keep Darling happy. She sent another cleaner to Rose Cottage starting Monday, October 28.”

Mal shoots a glance at Benoit. They now have another link between Kit Darling and Daisy Rittenberg. One cleaned for the other. And both were at the Glass House on Halloween night. Both still unaccounted for.

Mal thanks Lula and ends the call. She and Benoit exit the vehicle with renewed purpose. A foghorn sounds in the darkness. Rain continues to drizzle down. They walk slowly past the Audi.

“Mud on the tires as well as the plates,” Benoit says as they make for the house entrance.

Mal knocks on the door.

“Doesn’t look like a cottage to me,” Benoit says.

A light goes on inside. Mal detects movement through the opaque glass panel down the side of the front door. But no one answers.

Mal hammers her fist on the door as Benoit rings the bell repeatedly. “Hello! Police!” she calls. “Anyone home? Open up, please.”

The door finally opens a crack.

A tall, well-built male in his late thirties or early forties peers at them with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Fresh scratches run down his cheek and neck. He wears pajama pants, a dirty sweatshirt. His feet are bare, his hair disheveled, and a strong scent of alcohol radiates off him. He holds the door close to his body. Mal notices a bandage spotted with fresh blood on his hand. He angles his head as if trying to pull them into focus.

“Mr. Rittenberg?” Mal asks.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Sergeant Mallory Van Alst, and this is my partner, Corporal Benoit Salumu. We’d like to ask you and your wife, Daisy, a few questions.”

A panicked look explodes across the man’s face. “What about?”

“Is Daisy Rittenberg in? Are you her husband, Jon Rittenberg?”

He tenses as though he’s going to bolt, and Mal braces in anticipation. She senses Benoit doing the same, repositioning himself slightly more to her right and rear.

“Yeah, I’m Jon.”

“Is your wife home, sir?”

“No.”

“Where can we find her?”

“She’s gone.”

A frisson crackles through Mal. “Gone? Where?”

“I don’t the hell know. She just packed her bags and left, and she’s not answering her phone.”

“Can we come in, Mr. Rittenberg?”

“What for?”

“Just to have a look around, see if your wife is here.”

“I told you. She’s gone. What’s this about?”

“How did you hurt your face and hand, sir?” Benoit asks.

He moves his hand behind his back. “None of your business.”

“Do you or your wife know a Vanessa and Haruto North?” Mal asks.

The man pales. A muscle pulses at his jaw. He says nothing. Mal can see him struggling to think clearly through his alcoholic haze.

“Could you answer the question, please, Mr. Rittenberg?” says Benoit.

“What’s it to you?”

Mal says, “We’re investigating a missing person incident on the North Shore. We have reason to believe you and your wife can assist us in that investigation. Do you mind if we come in?”

His eyes narrow. He pulls the door even closer to his body. He seems to be sobering up, tightening, coiling. Walling off. He swallows and says very slowly, “I’m sorry, officers. I am not my wife’s keeper. I don’t know her every move, and I don’t know where she is right now.”

“We understand your wife is heavily pregnant, sir. She and the baby might be in jeopardy. It’s important that—”

He begins to shut the door. Mal blocks it with her boot. She’s treading toward a fine line she can’t cross without a warrant, but her pulse hammers hard, and she fears for the well-being of this man’s wife and unborn child. “Is that your Audi in the driveway, sir?”

Rittenberg glowers at her in silence.

“Were you at a house called Northview yesterday evening? In that Audi?” Mal asks.