A Clean Kill

Thirty-five

After Wayne left the hotel, Remy was frightened by the police. A man who said he was a detective called and told her to stay where she was. Someone was coming by to pick her up.

"Why? am I being arrested?" she asked anxiously.

"No, no. Just an interview at this time," he said.

She called the agency immediately. No one was there, so she left a message for Jo Ellen to call her back on her cell phone when she got in. "It's an emergency," she said.

But the police didn't come, and Jo Ellen didn't return the call until almost noon. By then Angus and Bertie's grandmother had arrived and taken them to the park, and Remy had been in the hotel room alone for more than two hours. She had her knapsack packed and ready to go, but she didn't dare leave for either the police station or parts unknown without alerting Jo Ellen.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you, Remy. You wouldn't believe how hectic my day has been," she said sternly when she finally returned the call. "I know all this has been difficult for you, but what's the big emergency?"

Jo Ellen—Miss Anderson to her staffers—never failed to acknowledge that certain aspects of working for her clients could be stressful at times. But being at the center of a murder case was more than just stressful. "I can't stay with . . . Mr. Wilson any longer," Remy started slowly. "I did my best for you, but this is too much."

"What's too much? Tell me everything," Jo Ellen said soothingly. "I'm here for you. You know that."

Remy had heard that before. She paced the living room of the suite, back and forth in front of the two windows, which had a good view of Central Park. "The police called me. They want to question me again. And Wayne freaked out this morning. 1 really thought he was going to hit me. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry if I'm letting you down, but this isn't working." That was an understatement.

"Remy, have some understanding," Jo Ellen intoned self-righteously. "The poor man lost his wife."

Jo Ellen's knee-jerk reaction to everything was "Have some understanding." It didn't matter what was going on with her clients—an unwarranted temper tantrum, a missing tennis bracelet (perhaps lost in a taxi or on the sidewalk), a broken Ming vase (by a cat), refusal to give a hardworking employee vacation time or a raise for no reason at all..—she took their side in every dispute. Usually it was just maddening, but now it was dangerous. And she didn't even mention the police.

"I was understanding. I'm very sorry he lost his wife, but he didn't have to see it. He didn't have to hang around all day. I took the hit for everything. I was the one interviewed by the police practically all day yesterday, and they're not finished. They're focused on me. I need help, Miss Anderson. He has a lawyer. Maybe I need a lawyer—"

Jo Ellen cut her off. "You told me all that yesterday. Believe me, I'm sympathetic. But if you leave the Wilson household before this thing is settled, I'm just not sure what I can do for you. You'll have to relocate, anyway, and I do have someone looking for a chef in the Bahamas. . . ."

Remy was appalled by this response. She was fearful that the police had a different kind of relocation in mind. And even if they didn't, the last thing she wanted was to be someone's chef in the Bahamas! She yearned for the glamour of a restaurant. She was quite fed up with Jo Ellen's coaching and considered saying, "I quit for you, too," but she didn't have a chance.

"What did you do to provoke him?" she demanded.

"Nothing. I went out for a walk. That's all," Remy said defensively. Jo Ellen always thought the worst of everybody.

"You left the children, and you know better than that."

"No, no. I didn't leave them. It was six-thirty in the morning. No one was up." Remy was reduced to defending herself to everyone. It was horrible.

"Well, where did you go, then? Haven't you learned anything I taught you? You're supposed to stay put. What happened last night? What did he do?" The questions came fast.

"He talked on the phone with some lawyer. I don't know, somebody Mr. Perkins got for him. He told Mr. Perkins he had to get rid of Lynn."

"Yes, yes. I know all that. I'm completely fed up with you girls. In a hundred years, we've never had to face anything remotely like this. I'm distraught. You two are not making me look good. Where did you go?" She was back on that again.

"I didn't go anywhere in particular. I was upset. I had to get some fresh air and consider my options." Remy didn't want to tell her where she'd been. It was none of Jo Ellen's business.

"What options are you talking about?" Jo Ellen's voice became angry. It was plain she was just furious about everything.

"I don't know," Remy mumbled.

"That's exactly right—you don't know. I feel bitterly betrayed by you, Remy. I did everything you asked. I placed you with the exact person you wanted to meet. You could have gone another route and applied for a restaurant job, but you didn't want to do that. You wanted intimate access to the great Wayne Wilson himself. I gave you that. It turned out that you were very well liked there, but you messed up. You just couldn't be content. You had to push the envelope and go where you shouldn't go. You know that's against my express rules."

Remy gathered that she was talking about her and Wayne. "What did she say to you?" she asked meekly.

"If you're talking about Mrs. Wilson"—Jo Ellen blew air out of her mouth to express her frustration—"I'm just disgusted with you. I trusted you in a good home. But once you start alienating affections, you're done. I've told you that a thousand times. Don't mess with the husbands. Didn't I tell you that?"

"I didn't alienate his affections," Remy insisted.

"It was her perception, and she paid your salary."

Actually, Wayne paid her salary, but Remy wasn't about to correct her. "I'm sorry," she said meekly. "It wasn't a big deal, and I didn't mean to complicate things."

"Well, it was a big deal to her, and you complicated things. Now you have to stay where you are and behave yourself until I say that you can leave. I could make things very rough for you if you don't," she threatened. And then she said she had important things to do and hung up.

Where were the police? Where was refuge? What were her options? She had no idea. With the horrified feeling that she was trapped in a madhouse, Remy stood looking at the dead receiver. She was a soldier stuck in a war not of her own making, pinned in place, and watched from all sides. She didn't even know how to start planning. Finally she replaced the headset and did what she always did on occasions of deep stalemate— whatever was asked of her. She started tidying up the children's clothes. This time was no different from any other time in her life. No matter what her state of rebellion she always had trouble taking that first step. After a few minutes she turned on the "TV. On, the news she was shocked to see police outside of the Perkins house. Emergency vehicles. Reporters with video equipment. She stared in disbelief. It had happened again.