“Yes, please,” Nina said, and Venetia nodded also.
“I’ll bring it in ten minutes. When I come back, will you girls both be in bed?”
“We will be, we promise,” Nina said.
Cassie left the room, amazed by the stunning change in the two of them. It was as if their personalities had been locked away in shells, from which they had now emerged. If they were already feeling so much better, she hoped that they would be able to put the abuse behind them, and would not experience too much long-term damage from it. With any luck it would not have scarred them permanently, and they would be able to move past this horrific chapter in their lives.
She walked into the kitchen, turned on the light, and caught her breath.
There was Maurice’s business card, lying on the counter near the kettle.
“I don’t believe it!” she said aloud.
It was like a miracle. She could have sworn she remembered putting it in her purse, but Cassie knew all too well that stress caused her to have memory gaps, or to misremember things completely. Instead of taking it with her, she’d placed it on the counter and there it had stayed. Although the cook had been in and out since then, Cassie guessed she must have been instructed not to move anything that looked work-related, so she had left the card in its place.
She picked up the card, and the spark of hope inside her blazed into determined resolve. It was late, already after nine-thirty p.m., but this was her only chance, because she was sure that the clever detective would be back first thing in the morning. Cassie had to get to that footage first.
She grabbed the kitchen phone and dialed the number, willing Maurice to pick up and answer, and hoping that because this was the Rossi landline, he’d jump into action at any hour.
After only two rings, Maurice answered eagerly.
“Signora? How can I help?”
With a shock, Cassie remembered that he knew nothing about what had happened that evening. Maurice believed Ms. Rossi to be alive and well, and making a work-related call. She would have to break the news to him, and then ask him about the footage in a way that didn’t arouse his suspicions.
Cassie feared this would take a level of tact and mental agility that was beyond her ability right now. At this stage of the evening, she knew that there was nothing left in her tank, and she was running on the last of the fumes.
Even so, she had no choice left but to try. Thinking on her feet had never been her forte, but with desperation nipping at her heels and the clock ticking inexorably, Cassie forced herself to meet Maurice on his wavelength.
“It’s me, Cassie. I’m so glad you answered.”
She allowed herself to sound breathless and stressed.
“What is it?” Maurice snapped. The helpful tone he’d adopted when answering had vanished.
“Maurice, there’s been a dreadful, tragic accident. Ms. Rossi—I don’t know how to break this to you, it’s just too awful—she’s dead.”
“What?” Maurice’s tone was shrill. “You’re joking! Signora? I don’t believe this. I’m shattered. Please, let me sit down.”
He must be with friends, Cassie realized, perhaps having dinner. She heard him asking for a seat, and the murmur of concerned voices in the background.
“What happened? Are you sure she is—” Maurice couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “Are you sure she has passed?”
“I’m very sure. It’s been confirmed by the police,” Cassie spoke softly.
“What happened? Tell me. Yes, please refill my glass, I need it.”
Cassie guessed the dinner companions were clustering round.
“I don’t know. I was in the shower at the time, but the children saw. She was rushing downstairs to fetch tiramisu. I believe they were going to share dessert in Nonna’s room. And the children think her heel might have broken. At any rate, she took a really bad fall, and it broke her neck.”
“Oh, Lord,” Maurice said in hushed tones. “It was those Grattacielo boots she was wearing, wasn’t it? Those ones with the silver heels?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So beautiful, but so impractical,” he murmured. “I tried to warn her that she should be careful of wearing those catwalk prototypes around the house.”
Then, in a louder voice, “Yes, she’s my employer, Suzanne—or was. I was privately employed by her so this means I’m out of a job now. This was such a special assignment, it was unique. I loved every day of it and the salary was—well, it was an extremely fair compensation for my efforts and expertise, and everything I put in.”
His voice quivered with emotion.
Cassie could hear a chorus of sympathetic voices in the background, and felt panic rising inside her. Maurice had the details of the incident and with his employer now dead, there was no reason for him to stay on the line with her. She sensed he would be impatient to get back to the wine and comfort of his group of friends.
His next words confirmed this.
“Well, thank you for calling. As I’m sure you can hear, I’m attending a social event, and can’t let this terrible news disturb our evening further, so if you don’t—”
“Wait!” Cassie just about shouted.
This was it. She wouldn’t get him back if he put the phone down. There was no way he’d answer again. He’d be too busy with his pity party.
“What?” Now Maurice sounded irritable.
“Maurice, I called you because I’m completely traumatized by this and so are the girls. I thought it might help if I could have a look at the camera footage. You know the whole house has camera surveillance?”
“Well, yes, I do, but I don’t see how that could help.”
“The girls were in tears earlier. Venetia was blaming herself, saying if she hadn’t spoken to her mother as she went down the stairs, she wouldn’t have looked round and wouldn’t have fallen. Nina insisted she hadn’t looked around. I said
