“Would you blame me if I did?” I gave her haunted eyes. It was hard; mostly, I was angry, but angry didn’t get the world on your side and didn’t get people to trust you and give you things. “I’m sad, Vivienne.”

The slightest parting of her lips—she hadn’t expected me to remember her name. Using the advantage, I continued. “But I did my grieving a long time ago. No matter what others believed, I knew my mother would never voluntarily leave me.”

“The police didn’t find the quarter of a million dollars she was rumored to have taken. What does that suggest to you?”

Vivienne had good sources.

“Probably the same thing it does to you.” Wincing deliberately, I made a tight face. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to rest my leg. I’m sure you have my number.” A barefaced lie I spoke with a smile—I’d changed the number after too many in the media managed to get hold of it. “Give me a call and we can set up a proper interview where I’m not standing on crutches in the street.”

A slight flush colored the flawless ivory of her skin as she looked down at my leg while waving her cameraman to move away. “I’m sorry. How is your recovery progressing?”

Did she really think I was stupid enough to fall for a gentle look and a soft voice? The camera hadn’t stopped recording and the mike was still close enough to catch everything I said. “See for yourself.” Then I turned and walked up our drive to the front door.

With some people, you needed to leaven the honey with a sharp bite.

When my phone rang as I entered the house, I let it go to voice mail. I needed a Coke. But on reaching the kitchen, I saw that Shanti had left me a plate of sandwiches with a side of cookies. I wasn’t hungry after the fudge and cake with Diana but I knew I’d need a proper meal soon.

And I still craved that Coke. Grabbing it out of the fridge, I put it beside the food.

I wanted to get upstairs and go over my notes—running into the landscaper had made me rethink possibilities. Who else had been in the Cul-de-Sac that night? Who else could’ve put a knife to my mother’s throat and carjacked her? Staff heard all kinds of things—including maybe whispers about a lot of money being moved. All it would’ve taken was for one of them to overhear my mother—possibly talking on the phone to her lover.

I didn’t want to sit in the kitchen and I didn’t want to have to be sociable with anyone.

But how the hell was I going to get the food upstairs?

The sound of a vacuum starting up in another area of the house gave me the answer.

I was making my way to that sound when I passed one of the downstairs bathrooms and saw a maid bent over, cleaning. Jeans, checked shirt, socks but no shoes—Shanti didn’t permit outside shoes in the house, though I currently had special dispensation since it was such a major operation to get myself in and out of my one shoe.

I coughed to alert the woman to my presence. Jumping with a squeal, she pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh God, you gave me a fright.” Her eyes were huge, her pale brown skin freckled across the nose, and her pink hair in two pigtails.

Petite to boot, she looked like a startled cartoon character.

Though I couldn’t remember her name, I’d seen her before. She’d replaced an older maid who’d moved away.

“Sorry,” I said with a genuine smile. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Expression cooling, she took a small step back. I didn’t blame her. I was sure there were men in other houses who thought they could hit on women just going about their workday hoping not to be harassed.

Before she could reply, I said, “Or your colleague might be able to do it? Are you working with Mary or Lovey today?” I knew the remaining member of the team was on vacation hiking in Japan. “I want to take some food up to my suite but . . .” I moved my elbows slightly away from my body to indicate the crutches.

A sudden warm smile. “Oh, sure, that’s not a problem.”

I was surprised when she just came with me. She should’ve alerted her partner. If I ever intended to do anything nefarious, I really would have to work crutches into the plan. “Where’s Shanti?” My father’s wife never left the cleaners alone in the house.

I got a blank look in response, followed by a click of her fingers. “Oh, do you mean Mrs. Rai?”

Mrs. Rai.

Yes, that was Shanti’s name. But she’d never be Mrs. Rai in my mind. That position was permanently occupied by a woman called Nina. “Yes.”

“She had to leave to pick up her daughter from school. She wasn’t feeling well, poor thing.”

I frowned. It was rare for Pari to miss school. The last time around, it had taken a case of bronchitis. I hoped it wasn’t that serious this time.

“Is this it?” Pink-haired pixie pointed at the plate and the bottle of Coke. Condensation ran down its sides.

“Yes, thanks.” I led her out and to the stairs.

She politely kept to my pace instead of racing upstairs.

“You can leave it on the coffee table in the living area.” I wasn’t about to invite her into my bedroom, and I made sure to stay out in the hallway while she was in the living area.

Once she was out, I thanked her again.

“No problem.” She lifted a little on her socked feet before heading back to the stairs. As she made her way down them, pigtails bouncing, I thought of Lily. She’d been around the same age when she’d come into this house, but she’d never been this . . . unbruised. Life had already left a mark on Lily long before she met the Rai family—but we hadn’t exactly helped her.

I decided to settle in the lounge.

First I had a hit of Coke. Then I began to jot down notes.

 Where’s the money?