Rich Doyle Mysteries: Rose

Chapter 5: Missy

Missy, the maid, sat across from Rich, batting her thick eyelashes over her dark brown eyes. Rich was apparently unaware of her attentions as he was focusing on a journal in front of him. I tried not to roll my eyes; what did the maid see in him?

Rich finally stopped consulting his notes and spoke to the short maid. "When did Mrs. Graham hire you?"

"Ah, probably around a year ago?" Missy said, shrugging. "I don't exactly remember." She was twisting a string of her auburn bob around her finger as she thought. "Yeah, it was two summers ago. So a little more than a year."

"Was it meant to be a summer job?"

"Yeah, something like that," Missy answered. I was beginning to yearn for Jeremy's constant "yessir"s. "But at the end of the summer, Mrs. G said she could accommodate my school times, so I stayed on."

"She accommodated your school times?" Rich frowned. "When did you work, then?"

"After school. I start at three in the afternoon and finish at five," Missy answered. "I think it's more about having a status statement than anything."

"A status statement?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," Missy said with a nod. "Y'know, so when she can go to all those rich-people parties—what are they called?"

"Galas," Rich supplied.

"Yeah. Those," Missy said. "So when she can go to those parties, she can tell them she's got a maid. She doesn't have to tell them her maid's an eighteen-year-old girl who works two hours every day." I noticed Missy kept referring to Mrs. Graham as though she were still alive. I realized she probably hadn't fully processed what had happened to her employer; I kind of forgave her seemingly addled mind.

"Who was her last maid?" Rich inquired.

Missy shrugged. "How should I know?" She surprised me when she blew a large bubble with some bubble gum and popped it. "She didn't hire me to ask questions. I clean an already-spotless house. Seems clear to me."

Rich wrote something down thoughtfully. He looked up at her when she blew another bubble and again it snapped. "Do you always chew gum in important meetings?" he said. I hid a chuckle when I realized it was the first time I'd seen him get annoyed.

"I chew gum when I'm nervous," Missy answered with a shrug.

"Are you nervous?" I asked.

"Heck yeah," Missy said. "I'm sitting in front of a killer!"

It took me a second to realize who she was talking about. "Me?" I exclaimed. "I didn't kill Mrs. Graham! I'd never even met the woman!"

"The police said you did it," Missy said, her brown eyes angry. "You killed a harmless old woman! How could you? She was never anything but kind to me, and you killed her!" She broke off suddenly, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.

Rich stood up and knelt beside Missy. "Missy," he said quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know this is going to be painful, but I need you to recount what you saw when you found Mrs. Graham this morning. Rose didn't kill her, and I intend to find who really did. Won't you help bring Mrs. Graham justice?"

Missy nodded, sniffing and rubbing her eyes. "Sorry," she apologized. She took a shaky breath. "I came early this morning, at like five in the morning to get my work done before I went to school. I was supposed to go to a party tonight, you see, and I had asked Mrs. G last night if I could get my stuff done early. I got here and I saw the light was on in the sitting room. She never left that light on. I opened the door and I saw her on the carpet, just kind of ... lying there. I—I didn't panic, I thought, Okay, maybe she just fell. So I went over to her and I saw the blood on her back and I screamed. Jeremy ran in the room and he took me out and told me to call the police. And—and I did, and that's all I know, I promise."

"Thank you," Rich said. He made a note of something. "Before I let you go, permit me one last question. When you last saw Mrs. Graham, where was she sitting, and did you speak to her?"

"Sure," Missy said. "She was sitting in her chair and that's when I asked her about the party. I left at five."

Rich nodded at her, waving her away. With one last flutter of her lashes, she left the room. I looked at Rich. "They're conflicting," I said. "Jeremy said she was sitting on the couch at six, but Missy says she was sitting on the chair at five."

"That's not unusual," Rich said. "I'll ask one of the servants who's been here longer if she liked to move between seats. No, what's unusual is that Jeremy didn't mention that he saw the body. He said Missy found it. He didn't say anything about him pulling her out of the room and telling her to call the police."

"He didn't seem to be quick-witted when it comes to emergencies," I said.

"Don't assume," Rich corrected me. "The dumbest person in regular life could be the first person to react to an emergency. One never knows how one is going to respond to an emergency until one is in one."

"That's a lot of ones," I commented. "Who do we question now? Jeremy again?"

"I have a feeling we won't get much more of an answer other than 'yessir'," Rich answered. "I'll wait until I have more to question him about than just that. Now, we have the cook, the housekeeper, and the butler left. We want to question the one who's been here longest."

"Not Carmen Corderro," I said. "She and Domiano have only been in the country for two years. And please, not the butler. Helena seemed nicer."

"Okay," Rich said. He went to the door and called, "Arnold!"

I stared at him. "Rich!" I said, vexed.

"What? I thought we'd get the crabby one out of the way first, that way we can enjoy the nicer one after him," he replied.

All I could do was glare.