Eve willed herself to appear indifferent so she wouldn’t reveal how significant that revelation was to her. “It must be hard on you.”
Daphne went over to the subzero refrigerator and opened it. “It’s disappointing, that’s for sure. My husband is also getting tired of having sex in a cup and I’ve got to admit that getting clumsily stabbed in the butt with a syringeful of hormones is not my idea of foreplay, so we may give up and do a private adoption.”
“What’s a private adoption?”
Daphne took out three bottles of fruit-flavored vitamin water and set them on the island. “It’s when a lawyer finds a pregnant woman who doesn’t want her child and arranges in advance for you to adopt it.”
Eve made some more notes and kept her eyes on the page. “Did you think about approaching Priscilla?”
“Our cleaning lady? Of course not. That would be inappropriate and extremely offensive. Why would I dare to assume she didn’t want her baby? The thought never crossed my mind and, frankly, I’m surprised it crossed yours.”
Eve looked up as Duncan came back in.
“No answer. Not even voice mail.”
“Help yourselves to some vitamin water,” Daphne said. “Would you like some melon to go with that?”
“Do you have any cookies?” Duncan asked.
“Will Oreos work?”
“Oreos always work,” Duncan said.
Daphne went to the pantry, took out a package of Oreos, peeled it open, and set it on the counter.
“Thank you.” Duncan took out six cookies and stacked them in front of him like poker chips. “I firmly believe it was an Oreo, not an apple, that tempted Adam in the Garden of Eden.”
Just to be sociable, and to maintain the nonconfrontational atmosphere, Eve plucked a cookie from the package and asked Daphne, “What else do you know about Priscilla?”
“Nothing, I’m ashamed to say. We didn’t really talk. She’s only here a few hours and doesn’t want to fall behind and miss her bus. And there’s a language barrier.”
Eve took a bite of her cookie. “She doesn’t speak English?”
Daphne took a drink from her bottle of water before answering. “Only enough to get by, the broad strokes, but not the nitty-gritty, if that makes sense.”
“It does. How long has she worked for you?”
“About two years.”
Eve finished her cookie and opened her water bottle. “Does it bother you having a pregnant woman in the house when you’re trying so hard to have a child of your own?”
That question caught Duncan’s interest. He hadn’t been around for the discussion about Daphne’s failed attempts to get pregnant. And now that he was down to one cookie in his poker stack, he wasn’t distracted. He suddenly saw Daphne in a whole new light. Possible murderer.
“No, not really,” Daphne said. “I’m not the jealous type.”
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Duncan said, holding the last cookie in his hand. “You know Priscilla’s pregnant, right?”
“It’s hard to miss.”
“And you still make her walk up and down the hill? That’d kill me and I’m not carrying a child, though it may look like it.”
Daphne gave Duncan a cold glare and moved the carton of Oreos out of his reach. “I’ve offered many times to drive her, but she says she likes the walk. Besides, I’m half-asleep and still in my pajamas at seven thirty. It’s not a convenient time to get in my car. What is this about? Are you working with INS?”
Eve cocked her head. “Why do you ask that? Is she illegal?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed since you’re so interested in her, that’s what it must be. She’s certainly no criminal.”
Duncan said, “How would you know if you two never really talked?”
“Because she’s so sweet and caring and trustworthy,” Daphne said. “I’ve left plenty of jewelry and cash lying around and she’s never touched it, except to move out of the way to dust.”
“She’d have to be more dumb than dishonest to fall for that,” Duncan said.
Eve asked, “Do you know if she has any friends in the community?”
“She usually walks down to the bus stop with the lady who works at the Greenbergs’ house.”
“Where do they live?”
“23780 Park Venice. Sheryl Greenberg and I do Pilates together. It was her maid who recommended Priscilla to me.”
Duncan finished his cookie and asked, “Do you know Anna McCaig?”
Daphne still glared at him. “No, who is she?”
“One of your neighbors, over on Park Ronda.”
“Where the patrol car is parked?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Never met her. There’s a couple of hundred houses here and people don’t talk much,” Daphne said. “What happened? People are saying it’s a murder.”
“Really?” Duncan said. “I thought you and your neighbors didn’t talk much.”
“We do when there’s a murder.”
Eve closed her notebook and smiled at Daphne. “Thank you so much for your help and the snack. We appreciate it.”
She and Duncan walked out of the kitchen, Daphne behind them. “You never mentioned why you want to talk with Priscilla.”