Alice knew that bad news travelled fast, but when she opened up the office two days later, she was still surprised by the sheer number of unannounced visitors who popped in to hear Alice and Jinx’s version of the New Year’s Eve murder. A version that became more embellished every time Jinx told it. Even Tiffany paid them a visit, determined to get her facts straight, before her clients demanded all the latest from her too.
Alice passed on what she saw fit, but remained mindful not to ‘speculate’, as Detective Rigby had put it. She’d always prided herself on her professionality in the rest of her life and this was no exception. She tried her very best to be discreet, but the facts were the facts: she had placed Enya at the Messents’ and it did look very much like Enya had been murdered, although frustratingly this had yet to be confirmed. Alice had spent every waking hour scouring the police websites and the local papers, but so far there’d been no other information released.
Alice herself had appeared in the papers, being the only person willing to comment on Enya’s personality in the small article that appeared. She’d been quoted as saying that ‘everyone at The Good Household Management Agency was devastated by the tragic loss of an upstanding, intelligent young woman’. Jinx had been very impressed that Alice had got a plug in for the agency, not that Alice had meant to. Besides, she was telling the truth. Enya’s death did feel rather devastating, and Alice felt distinctly shaken as the new year got under way.
On Tuesday, Alice told Helly to fetch the scones for their tea break and to dig out the jam and cream from the fridge, but Jinx tutted and gave her a filthy look. They always had a row about whether one should smother each side with butter then jam then cream, or cream then jam as Jinx insisted was correct, but with Jinx’s January diet in place, Alice could see she was taking the arrival of scones as a personal slight.
Alice retreated into her office and shut the door, keen to eat her scone in private and without Jinx staring daggers at her. Besides, with everyone gossiping about the Messents and Enya’s murder, she was keen to write down the things that she’d seen herself, just to make sure the facts stayed set in stone. She flicked the silver spinner on her necklace, knowing that it always helped her to think. Then, grabbing a black Sharpie and a bundle of spare index cards from her box of contacts, she started writing a timeline for the circumstances surrounding Enya’s death. But by lunchtime, the cards had become so muddled that she popped over to the stationery store for a large whiteboard. She’d always thought of the incident room corkboard, as an unnecessary trope in TV crime shows, a kind of cheap visualisation of what was going on in the detective’s mind, but she was surprised to find out that it was actually rather a handy way to ‘see’ the facts.
Just as she was perfecting her handwriting in the marker on the board, Alice saw Helly flapping her hand excitedly, having taken a call. Alice got up and opened her office door.
‘It’s her, Alice,’ Helly stage whispered, covering the receiver. ‘Madame Messent.’
Alice felt Jinx and Helly watching as she picked up the call.
‘Oh, Madame Messent,’ Alice said, annoyed that the condolence card she’d posted wouldn’t have reached their house yet. ‘I’ve been meaning to telephone. I’m so terribly sorry about what happened. About Enya.’
‘Thank you,’ Camille Messent said.
‘I was wondering if you’d been able to talk directly to her mother?’ It was a nosy question, but Alice couldn’t stop herself asking it. That poor woman. Wherever she was, she must be distraught. She’d assumed that the detective must have found a way of contacting the relatives, but she wanted to make sure Madame Messent had remembered to as well. It always made such a difference when one’s employer showed an interest in one’s home life. Even more so, in an odd way, when one was dead. Enya’s parents would appreciate it and anything that might make them even remotely less miserable was worth encouraging.
‘I asked the detective for the next of kin,’ Madame Messent said, ‘but he’s been unable to trace them. This is one of the reasons I’m calling. Do you have a number for them?’
This was a turn-up, Alice thought. Why on earth hadn’t Detective Rigby been able to track them down? She picked up her Sharpie, delighted that at last she could do something to help.
‘I haven’t right now but leave it with me.’ Really, how hard could it be?
‘ Merci.’
‘Have the police said anything more?’ Alice asked, unable to stop herself.
‘No. Nothing. They were at the house for several days, but they’ve gone now. They say they are waiting for the post-mortem.’
Alice shuddered, thinking of Enya under a sheet in a freezer at the morgue.
‘And I know this is – how you say, delicate?’ Madame Messent said. ‘But life must go on and, you see, I have a trip abroad … I’m taking my assistant, Thérèse, with me … and these commitments I cannot change …’
‘Right …’
‘So, I need someone to look after the house – tout de suite, you understand? And to take care of my daughter.’
Alice had been so preoccupied with Enya’s death that it hadn’t even occurred to her that the Messents might need a replacement housekeeper. She should have been on the case already.
‘Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll get on it right away.’
‘Perhaps someone English this time,’ Madame Messent said. ‘To help Laura with her conversation.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘But someone sensitive. You see, my daughter is very shaken.’
‘Understandably.’
‘She cannot be left alone in the house. And I have to have someone here to make sure there are no further break-ins and to supervise her going back to school. My husband is very busy at the moment also, you see.’
‘I quite understand,’ Alice said again, trying to sound reassuring, but at the same time feeling sorry for Laura Messent too. She knew exactly what it was like to have parents who prioritised their own agenda. To feel that you were always an afterthought, a problem to be dealt with. She couldn’t remember her mother ever coming to her parents’ evenings or taking an interest in Alice’s academic work, even once. That had fallen to Mrs Doulton, who’d been paid to do the things that Alice’s parents should have wanted to do themselves. And now, when Laura probably needed both her parents, the Messents were delegating their responsibility to a stranger.
But then, who was Alice to judge? She’d built her life on supplying staff to do things that, quite frankly, a lot of rich people should have been doing themselves.
‘I know she left quite suddenly. But I’m wondering if Katy might reconsider her decision to leave?’ Madame Messent continued.
‘Katy?’
‘Katy Ellison. I already tried the last agency, but they said they couldn’t get hold of her.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Alice said. ‘If we can’t track down Katy, we’ll find you a replacement straight away.’
‘Thank you. That’s such a relief to hear. And I can trust you completely with this, yes?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Alice said.
‘Then à bientôt,’ Madame Messent said and rang off, before Alice had even had the chance to mention that she had in fact been to her house on New Year’s Eve.
‘Well?’ Jinx demanded, standing in the doorway.
‘She sounds …’ Alice tried to put her finger on it, but she hadn’t quite been able to gauge Madame Messent’s mood. Perhaps because she couldn’t quite interpret the nuance of her intonation, but she seemed more weary than sad. Inconvenienced and harassed rather than genuinely sorry. But then how exactly did Alice expect her to behave? She’d hardly known Enya and it must be terrible having someone die in your own home. Especially in front of everyone you knew. She was probably absolutely mortified.
‘Yes?’ Jinx pressed.
‘Busy. She says she’s got a business trip.’
‘She’s going away?’ Jinx asked. ‘After what happened?’
‘She says she has to. She can’t cancel.’ She stared down at the pink Post-It note on which she’d written Katy’s name. ‘I need to get hold of Katy Ellison. She was the Messents’ last housekeeper.’
‘They want her back?’ Jinx asked.
‘Possibly. They certainly need someone,’ Alice said. ‘I’m sure it’s been quite an ordeal for the family.’
‘There’s no need to state the blummin’ obvious all the time, Alice,’ Jinx said, in a rather snappy tone.
Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a scone?’ she asked.
‘No, Alice. That’s the last thing I want,’ Jinx snapped and Helly, behind her, pulled a face at Alice.
Fortunately, the tension in the office was broken by a visit from Jacques.
‘How are you feeling?’ Helly asked, as he marched in and put his moped helmet down on her desk.
Jacques looked tired. ‘Shaken up. I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Enya.’
‘I know. I’m shaken up too,’ Helly said, offering Jacques a sympathetic hug.
Alice could have sworn she saw Helly breathing deeply in as she pressed her face to his shoulder. Jacques sat down on the sofa and Agatha jumped up next to him, snuggling in as Jacques tickled her ears.
‘Horrible to think that whoever did it is still out there,’ Jinx said.
‘If she was murdered,’ Alice said for the umpteenth time, ‘because it’s still speculation, remember?’
‘Yes, but it’s still bloody horrible, whether she was actually clobbered or not.’
‘I just spoke to Madame Messent,’ Alice told Jacques. ‘I’m trying to trace the last housekeeper, Katy Ellison. She went to the Messents via Elite.’
‘I could call Christian there, if you like?’ Jacques said.
Christian was Alice’s counterpart at the rival agency and she doubted he’d give her the number if she called to ask for it herself.
‘Really? Do you think you could wangle some contact details out of him for her?’ Alice said. ‘Only, subtly. And obviously without mentioning me. Make it a personal thing.’
‘D’accord.’ Jacques nodded and took out his mobile and pressed a few buttons, casually passing the time of day with his other boss there, before asking the favour and then, mercifully, springing up to grab a pen off Helly’s desk and jot down a number and address.
‘There,’ he said, satisfied, when he’d rung off. ‘At your service. Don’t say I’m not a pivotal part of the team.’
‘You would be even more if you weren’t on Elite’s bloody books as well,’ Jinx said.
‘I have to get work wherever I can. You understand, Jinxy? My sister. You remember she’s deaf? I pay for her extra tuition and it’s so expensive.’
She harrumphed. ‘Just remember who looks after you the best,’ she said, peeved. She turned on her heel and started angrily ripping down the Christmas cards she’d put on display.
‘What’s up with her?’ Jacques asked Alice.
‘Dry January. No carbs,’ Alice whispered back.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Leave that with me.’