The Maid's Diary(82)
“What happened today, Jon?” Daisy demands. “What is she talking about?”
“He was fired,” says the devil maid. “Jon, you didn’t even tell your wife you were sacked today? You didn’t tell her you went to sit and drink in the park with the homeless people until it was home time?”
Daisy’s jaw drops. She stares at her husband. Her entire body thrums. “Is that true, Jon?”
Vanessa-Kit says, “I suppose he didn’t tell you either about his affair with Mia, and those men he slept with in a threesome.”
“What?”
The woman smiles. “And, Jon, I’m betting Daisy has not told you about the ‘insurance’ she keeps?”
“What insurance?” Jon says.
“See? We have so much to discuss. And, please, before you come in, do take note—very careful note.” She points her trident up toward the security camera outside the front door, then points it back to a corner inside the house. “Cameras,” she says. “This house is fully rigged with CCTV. The cams are all feeding live to a monitor being watched from another room inside this house. The feed is also being watched at an off-site location. And the footage is being recorded.” She pauses, letting it sink in. “If anything happens to me, if you try to hurt me, there are others inside this house who will respond. And if I disappear, police will automatically be forwarded copies of this recording along with copies of Daisy’s ‘insurance.’ Got it?”
Daisy glances up at the camera outside, and a chill trickles down her spine. She and Jon are lab rats in a petri dish of a glass and marble house.
“You’re lying,” Jon says.
“Try me,” the devil answers. “Oh, and if you two choose to walk away instead, Daisy’s insurance goes directly to the police and to a prearranged list of top media outlets.” She pauses, eyeing Jon. “It will send you to prison, JonJon. Mark my words. There is no statute of limitations for what is contained in that ‘insurance.’ It will destroy you. The Wentworths, too.”
Daisy says quietly, “Jon, let’s go inside. We need to go inside.”
MAL
November 2, 2019. Saturday.
Mal returns to the station to question Jon Rittenberg. Things are coming to a head. Media is closing in fast.
As she walks into the major crimes bullpen and shrugs out of her wet coat, Lu summons Mal over to her desk. An urgency tightens Lula’s features.
“We’ve got Jon Rittenberg in interview room twelve, and Daisy Rittenberg in six,” she says. “Daisy is claiming medical discomfort, and her counsel is with her, so you might want to do her first. She’s apparently thirty-six weeks pregnant now. But before you go, you need to see something.” Lu pulls up on her screen a series of newspaper articles. “We were searching online for background on the Rittenbergs and Darling, plus the ski town Darling grew up in. Take a look at this.”
Black font blares across the top of a digitized newspaper page:
“It Never Happened”
World-class skier “JonJon” Rittenberg says claims of sexual assault are “all lies” and “it never happened.”
Slowly, Mal draws up a chair and seats herself in front of Lula’s monitor as she reads:
A young woman who has not been identified by Whistler law enforcement alleges she was drugged and sexually assaulted by Olympic hopeful Jon Rittenberg and fellow members of his ski team at a wild ski lodge party last Saturday night.
Mal’s pulse quickens. She leans closer, reads further.
Police brought Rittenberg and others in for questioning, but so far no charges have been laid . . .
Mal reaches for the mouse and clicks open the next link. Another news article fills the screen, this one from a tabloid with a salacious reputation.
Sex Assault Allegations Dropped
Rittenberg Free to Ski
Mal scans the text.
. . . the unidentified young woman has dropped all allegations against Jon Rittenberg and other unnamed ski team members. She retracted her claims after no witnesses at the well-attended lodge party came forward to corroborate her version of events. Party attendees say the “girl” was lying and that if she did in fact engage in sexual relations with the Olympic hopeful, it was consensual. They added she was very drunk and infatuated with the famous young racer.
Mal scrolls down, then clicks open another article.
Whistler police say they are not at this time pursuing the issue. The accuser has completely withdrawn her charges.
“It was all lies,” says Max Dugoyne, a downhill skier who was at the party. “I know who the accuser is. She basically threw herself at Jon. She has a poster of him inside her locker. She arrived drunk and crashed the party expressly trying to meet him. If anything happened between her and JonJon, this is her way of retaliating—her feelings were probably hurt when she learned it was nothing but a one-night stand for him.”
Another partygoer, Allesandra Harrison, says she also knows the accuser. She claims the young woman learned she was pregnant and was trying to pin it on Rittenberg. “Either that or she was crying ‘rape’ so her parents wouldn’t think she was promiscuous or something.”
“Wow,” Mal says softly after scanning several more news stories in this vein. She glances at Lu. “If she had a locker with ‘JonJon’s’ poster, she was likely a high school student. How old was Rittenberg at this time?”