The Deadly Caress

Chapter 9

A melon-shaped man, ushered into the Campbell's living room by Estella, trudged towards Dorian who had been aimlessly pacing the room.

The man nodded a greeting. He flipped his badge. "Detective Mel Hart from Homicide Division, Monterey City Police Department. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Amanda said.

Hart's brown hair had a permanent windblown look. At first glance, he seemed too soft for the job, but one look into his eyes and Amanda knew she'd misjudged him. They were sharp and watchful.

"Is everyone here?" Hart asked.

"Rosa Estivariz is in the kitchen. I'll call her. I'm Dorian Campbell, Jean's stepson." He buzzed the cook on the intercom.

"I'm Amanda, her daughter." She turned to her stepbrother. "Dorian, could you ask her to bring something for my headache?" Churned up over the news that someone from homicide was coming, Amanda had paced outside for a while.

Hart produced a notepad from his sagging jacket pocket then stared at the painting opposite. "I don't know why people spend money on artwork."

"Picasso? You must be joking," Lionel leaned forward from one of the wing-backed chairs. He introduced himself to the detective.

"Cohen." Hart's eyebrows furrowed. "Can I speak with you later?"

"Yes," the lawyer said.

"We believe you got a call about Jean," Brian said. "What did the caller say?"

"I'm surprised you even know this. Right now I have a few preliminary questions to ask all of you. Then I'll speak to each of you privately. I need to establish the last person to see Mrs. Campbell alive."

A sudden stillness settled in the room.

Estella remained silent, her lips turned downward.

"I saw her last night before she went to bed," Brian said.

"I didn't see her after I had an er...discussion with her in the hallway last night," Dorian said.

"After Dorian left, I spoke to her for a moment. Then I went to my room," Amanda said.

"Okay then. Ms. Periuz, you found her. Why did you go to her room this morning?"

Estella shut her eyes for a moment. "Poor Mrs. Campbell." Then the words she'd probably been holding inside tumbled out. "She's good to me. She was too young to die...Jes, I go to her every morning."

"Why?" Hart asked.

"I bring her hot milk. Wake up her if she is asleep and get medicine ready."

The words collared Amanda's attention. Had her mother been seriously ill?

The detective glanced up from his notes. "What was the medicine for? You can answer now, or if you prefer, later in private."

Estella shrugged. "The doctor knows why she takes tablets. He always visits on Friday." She paused as if suddenly remembering something. "I must call the doctor or he will come, today, one o'clock."

"I'll call him. I want to talk to him anyway."

The maid gave him the number.

Amanda had to know. "But Estella, you must have an idea what those pills were for."

The maid's cheeks colored as she shook her head.

Amanda stared at Estella. It was obvious this woman knew.