The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery by David Bishop Read Free Book Online Page A

lawn chairs.
    He motioned toward his house. “How ‘bout an after-work drink?”
    Maddie heard the screen door on her house slam and turned to see Bradley jump down from the porch before running toward her, hollering, “Mom. Grandma says dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
    “Stop! A car’s coming.” Maddie screamed before realizing it was Jed in his car.
    “I know, Mom. Come on. Dinner’s ready.”
    Jed pulled to the curb. “Get in, Maddie. We’re meeting the Knight’s maid. She’s waiting at one of the other houses she cleans.”
    “But Grandma says dinner’s ready.”
    “Grandma will understand,” Maddie said with her hand on her son’s shoulder. “I’ll come in to see you when I come home. Okay?”
    “Even if I’m asleep?”
    “Even if you’re asleep. Please take the mail in the house for me.” As she handed the envelopes to her son, she noticed that one was from her attorney. Bradley ran for the house jumping up over the step onto the porch. She recalled her son going up those stairs one at a time on his hands and knees.
    She shrugged and waved at Gary as she got into the car, wondering as she did so, when they would ever get past the waving stage.
    ***
    “Ms. Gonzales,” Maddie said, “we’re talking murder here, so don’t hold anything back. You understand?”
    Marta Gonzales, a pudgy middle-aged woman with puffy eyes and well-established laugh lines, glanced at Maddie’s left hand, then said, “Si, Señorita.” After twisting a dust rag as if the wringing might squeeze out her troubles, she added, “I tell you the truth.”
    Maddie started with some easy questions to help the woman relax. “Tell us about your schedule at the Knights’ home.”
    Marta continued wrestling with the rag. “I clean all day Fridays. On Mondays and Wednesdays I work from twelve to four to pick up after Señora Knight. I want mornings, but the señora don’t get out of bed. I not want to be disrespectful, but you want the truth. Señora Knight was not a nice woman, but the señor is a fine man. I would quit if not for him.”
    “You were there this past Wednesday, the day before she died?” Marta’s brown eyes wincing when Maddie said died.
    “Si.”
    “Go on,” Jed urged. “Did you see her?” He then extended his question after she nodded. “What was she doing?”
    “She went out by the pool in one of her tiny suits,” Marta said. “She always there until I go. I do the laundry and pick up after her, even the clothes she takes off to put on her bikini. I take the clothes she throws on the shelf in the laundry room to the dry cleaners and leave the bills in the kitchen.”
    “Last Wednesday, did you bring back a bill from the dry cleaners?”
    “Si. I put in the kitchen like always.”
    “What fragrance air freshener do you use in the Knights house?” Maddie asked. Jed turned to stare at her.
    “None. Never. The lady of the house does—did not like them.” Marta could not resist sneering when referring to Abigail Knight, even after her death.
    “Do you ever clean the thermostat on the bedroom wall? Not just dusting, washing.”
    “Si. I wash them every other month. Dust every week. The señora hollers whenever she find dust. Last Wednesday I wash.”
    “Do you have any reason to believe Abigail Knight played around on Doctor Knight?” Jed asked in his jump-in-the-deep-end style.
    “Marta,” Maddie raised her hand in front of the maid. “You did not like Mrs. Knight. That is fine. But we need you to be honest with us. Tell us what you know. Okay?”
    “Si.” She tossed her dust rag on the table and cleared her throat. “Rex Bronson, the señora’s trainer, a black man, exercise her hard so the wine don’t make her fat. They have sex too.”
    “How do you know this?” Jed asked, his eyes narrowing as he turned the page in his memo pad.
    “I see them one time. Hear them sex talk on the phone many times. The señora don’t think I speak English. She call me ‘the fat