She shifted her weight, mirroring my posture. She stared at me, freakishly unblinking. “Si.”
Camilla was lying. Was she hiding behind the same confidentiality agreement as Alex? Could she be protecting Mona? Or herself? Where was Camilla the night Mona had died?
“The police think Darby may have had something to do with Mona’s death,” I said, trying to work in a way to ask for an alibi for the night of the murder.
“She killed Miz Mona?” She crossed herself and looked to the ceiling.
I caught myself wanting to look at the ceiling, too. “No. That’s why I’m here. She cared about Mona.”
“She loved Miz Mona?” Skepticism tinged her question.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but she did care.”
She considered my words before she spoke. “Miz Mona was mad about a letter from her lawyer,” she offered.
“From Owen Quinn? Do you know what it was about?”
“I don’t snoop,” she said, full of indignation.
I’m sure if she did know, she’d never tell. If word got out that she was into Mona’s business, Camilla wouldn’t find another job within five hundred miles of the OC.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you do. Did,” I corrected myself. “I thought Mona might have confided in you.”
“No, no, no. She not like me.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I wanted to ask outright if she’d killed her, but my gut told me it wasn’t her. If so, she’d have thrown Darby under the bus without hesitation. But that didn’t explain why she lied about Cliff.
“I’m just curious, where were you when Fluffy and I found Mona? I called out your name. I expected you to pop out of a room any moment.”
She shook her head. “I not live here. Monday night my day off. All staff have Monday night off. Miz Mona liked to be alone.”
“Do you know Kate?”
“The dog walker? Of course.”
“When was the last time Kate walked Fluffy?”
“The day of the Fur Ball,” she answered automatically.
Kate was telling the truth. “I met her at the Bark Park. She said Cliff was here that day, and he and Mona argued.”
Camilla didn’t say anything. She pushed her lips together, telling me they were sealed. She fought her own silent war.
I reached out and patted her knee. “You can tell me. Mona isn’t here to punish you for telling the truth.”
Out of nowhere, the water works spewed like a geyser. Fat salty tears spilled out of her eyes and splashed onto us both. Holy cow.
“I lied,” she wailed. “Mr. Michaels was here. He come a lot. They argue about the other Mr. Michaels. Miz Michaels make me promise not to talk about it.”
She pulled out a wadded used tissue from her pocket and eventually found a section to blow her nose. And blow her nose. And then blow it one more time. Eew.
“The other Mr. Michaels? Cliff has a brother?” I guessed.
“Si. Mr. Ted.”
“Do you have a picture of Ted?” I had no idea what he looked like.
“Si.” She got up, still sniffling, and rummaged through the antique buffet table’s drawers. She pulled out a frame that had been shoved into the back and handed it to me, then returned to her seat.
It was a candid picture of Cliff and the man who’d attended the funeral with him. “Why were they arguing about him?”
“I don’t snoop in Miz Mona’s business.” She said pointedly, her tears drying up as quickly as they’d started.
Yeah, yeah. She was talking about me. “You don’t have to stick your nose into someone business to overhear an argument. People yell when they fight.”
Apparently, that was all the prodding she needed to spill her guts. “Mr. Michaels, Cliff, wanted Miz Mona to give his brother money. He says Mr. Michaels, Ted, owed a bad man lots of money. He said Miz Mona better do what he said or she’d be sorry.”
Foreboding shimmied down my back. “Did you hear how much money he owed or to who?”
She shredded her tissues into confetti and said quietly, “I heard the name. Tommy ‘Batty’ Coppola.” She crossed her herself and whispered to the ceiling again.
Holy Batman.
If I believed crossing myself would protect me, I’d do it, too. Ted Michaels owed money to the mob. That changed everything.
Tommy’s nickname was “Batty.” Not because he was crazy, although he was, but because he was never without his bat. The bat he used to break knee caps, hands or heads. Whatever he felt like at the moment.
Camilla wasn’t keeping mum because of Mona, but for her own protection. It was all coming together. I handed the picture back.
“What are you going to do now? Do you have plans?” Like hot footing it to Brazil?
She shook her head. “I don’t have new job yet. Do you need housekeeper?” A hopeful smile landed on her round face.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” I hopped up and motioned toward the hall. “Do you mind if I look through Mona’s stuff?”
“
She led me to what I would call the library. Or office. The built-in bookcases and desk were a dead giveaway. Most of the shelves were empty. Half packed boxes haphazardly littered the room along with files and loose papers.
“Does she have a computer?” I asked.
“
Of course they did. And whatever Fluffy’s home camera may have recorded.
“Does Fluffy ever wear a different collar than the one she’s wearing now?”
Camilla stopped fidgeting and looked at me uneasily. “I pack all her belongings. It’s not my fault you not take everything.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything. Stop talking crazy. Where’s the stuff I left here?”
“Mr. Quinn take care of it. I don’t steal.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
Okay. Someone had obviously accused Camilla of thievery. “Who accused you of stealing?”
She pitched forward, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Miz Edwards accused me of hiding Miz Mona’s important papers. I didn’t do it.”
“Tricia was here?”
“Si, yesterday. I don’t like her.”
That made two of us. “I’m sure the police confiscated whatever it is she’s looking for. Don’t worry about Tricia. She’s as empty as the designer handbags tucked in the back of her closet. Back to Fluffy. Have you ever seen her wearing this?” I pulled the dog video recorder from the inside pocket of my leather jacket.
Camilla crossed herself at warp speed and backed up until she’d pressed herself flat against the wall with a bang. “Take it away,” she yelled.
Shocked at her reaction, I immediately shoved it back in my pocket. “It’s just a pet recorder.”
Mona’s housekeeper was visibly shaken. “Mr. Michaels come here for that. Miz Mona refuse to give it to him. He scream at her. She scream at him. She called it her
“What’s
“Insurance.” Her accent thick on the single word. She crossed herself once more for good measure, then fled from the room.
Hells bells. I had to see what was on Fluffy’s digital video camera.
