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Milo edged closer to me and spoke just above a whisper. “I was expecting a Daddy Warbucks twice her age and this guy’s what—thirty? Looks more like a boy-wonder math prof than a real estate tycoon.”
He took in the vastness of the house. “Making it young and thinking he’s got it all.”
I said, “Or not. He doesn’t look overjoyed.”
He studied the photo. “Good point. So maybe he already knew something was up when she went out running and there’s the motive…they do look kinda mismatched. Wonder when this was taken.”
He picked up the photo and walked over to the maids, still standing in the entry, immobile. “When’s the first time you saw this?”
Adelita Santiago said, “Missus told me to find a good place for it…maybe…I don’t know for sure.”
“Doesn’t have to be for sure,” Milo said gently. “Even a guess.”
Silence.
“Is it new or from before?”
“Before. Maybe…two months ago?”
Irma Ruiz said, “I think maybe three. They went to a party in Mister’s car.”
“Where is Mister’s car?”
“In the garage. Missus’s, too.”
“Got it. Anything else you want to tell us?”
Silence.
“Okay, thanks, you’ve been helpful.”
That assessment made both women tighten up.
I said, “What’s wrong?”
Adelita Santiago said, “We not supposed to talk to people. To let people in.”
“Makes sense,” said Milo. “But we’re not people, we’re the police.”
Her mouth quivered. “Something happened to Missus.”
Milo thought for a moment. Glanced at me. I nodded.
“I’ve got very bad news for you, ladies. Missus ismuerta.”
Irma Ruiz clutched her chest. “No.”
Adelita Santiago clutched the sides of her face. “No, no, no.”
“I’m sorry,” said Milo.
That opened the spigots. Both women broke down and sobbed.
CHAPTER
7
Leaving me with the maids in the entry, Milo traced the same route Adelita had taken to the kitchen. The two of them spent the time crying and hugging each other, were still doing so when he returned with a box of tissues and two bottles of Fiji Water.
