Page 56 of The Guilty Girl

‘You’re my son, so I think you’ll have a nose for sniffing out the bad guys.’

‘Sure thing, Papá.’

That was the first time Sergio had called him Papá.

Boyd followed his son down the narrow winding staircase into the apartment with a smile etched so deep on his face he could feel it tugging his cheek muscles.

28

After leaving the stunned and grieving McAllisters, Lottie and Kirby headed across town to see Sarah Robson, the cleaner who had discovered Lucy’s body.

Sarah lived in an apartment located in the refurbished staff quarters of the abandoned St Declan’s asylum. The main building had been closed and neglected for years, but some of its surrounding land had been sold for housing developments and apartments.

She guided the detectives into her living room. Compact, cluttered and stuffy, Lottie noted.

‘It’s such a shock,’ she said, tearing a tissue into shreds as she sat on an armchair, her small frame propped up by a multitude of matching cushions. Copper hair hung limp around her face, with a severe fringe lining her eyebrows. Fleecy red pyjamas, the front emblazoned with a Christmas tree, hung from her shivering frame. Lottie had to remind herself it was nearing the end of June rather than December.

Sitting on the couch, she shooed away a black cat, which then sat on the window ledge behind her. Kirby leaned against the door jamb. She noted how quiet he was today. She’d have to have a chat with him.

‘Sarah … Is it okay if I call you Sarah?’

‘Yes.’

She was in her early thirties but looked older. Perhaps it was from the shock of discovering a particularly bloody crime scene. At times like this, Lottie wondered if she herself was becoming immune to the horrors of murder. She often found herself surprised at how violent deaths affected those who did not encounter crimes on a regular basis. Maybe she was just tired.

‘You provided my colleagues with a preliminary statement, and I know this must be awful hard for you, but I need to go over everything with you again. You okay with that?’

‘Yes.’

She hoped the interview wasn’t going to be one of monosyllables.

‘Were you due to be at the McAllister house today?’

Sarah swallowed hard. ‘Saturdays are not on my usual rota. Lucy called me yesterday afternoon and asked if I could do an early-morning clean. She wanted the house shining before her parents returned home.’

‘How did she sound?’

‘Chirpy. A bit hyper, now that I think of it.’

‘Did she say anything about her party?’

‘Not a word.’

‘Did you talk about anything other than cleaning the house this morning?’

‘Just about payment. I agreed to be there by seven thirty at the latest and she said she’d pay me herself. Between the lines I assumed she didn’t want her parents to know about it. But I could be wrong.’

‘How long have you been working for the McAllisters?’

‘A few years.’

‘Did you have much interaction with the family?’

‘Just to say hello to Albert. At times I had to discuss my tasks with Mary. Never had reason to become chatting buddies.’

‘How often did you clean there?’

‘I had a set routine. Tuesdays and Fridays. Three hours. Sometimes Mary would give me additional work. Like cleaning the crystal once a month. I didn’t mind that. They paid me well.’