Page 24 of Dirty Looks

“Plank, call Derby in IT. I want him to check all the security and logs for any entrance on the property, including down at the stables. I want to find how the killer got out of here with the girl.

“And then call in the crime-scene techs. I want Lieutenant Daniels to bring her team. She’s the best. Then call in Chen and tell her to pick a team of four to bring with her. Tell them to drop whatever they’re working on. This is priority. I want every inch of this house combed over, and every person who has stepped foot on Lidle property over the past seventy-two hours interviewed. I want to know how Evie Lidle left this house. This might be the only chance we have to get access to this place once Robert Lidle starts throwing his weight around. I want us to be thorough.”

“Yes, sir,” Plank said. “The house manager’s name is Astrid Nielsen. She’s the one who found Kitty Lidle. Said she was just fine when she brought the tea up last night. She’s in the kitchen with Walters.”

“Then let’s start with her,” Martinez said.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting Astrid Nielsen to look like. Maybe I’d expected her to be older and more shriveled, considering Jenny had said most of the staff were long-term employees, but she didn’t look much past forty.

What I hadn’t been expecting was her size. She was broad shouldered, built more like a rugby player, and athletic looking. Her skin was pale and smooth and her cornhusk-blond hair was long and braided over one shoulder. Her eyes were the pale blue of an Icelandic lake. She stood ramrod straight, holding a steaming cup of something between her hands, and looking like she didn’t know quite what to do.

I looked around the massive kitchen. There were no touches of home here. No photographs or plants. It was a commercial kitchen with enough gadgets and ovens to cook for a hundred people, which I assumed happened frequently considering the Lidles’ status.

Walters was standing guard in the corner, and there was a short, plump woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a severe knot at the base of her neck. She was pounding dough like there was a face attached to it, while intermittently throwing flour onto the counter and then starting the pounding again.

I raised my brows at Walters in question, but he subtly shook his head and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Are you Astrid Nielsen?” Martinez asked the woman at the island.

“Yes,” she said, meeting Martinez’s gaze with tear-drenched eyes. “I am Astrid Nielsen.” Her accent was Nordic, which would explain her height and coloring.

“We need to ask you a few questions,” Martinez said. “I’d appreciate it if we could talk privately.”

“You can go in the breakfast room,” the short woman said, her accent a thick Irish lilt. “I’ll not have me schedule interrupted. I’ve got dinner to prep for.”

“You must be Molly Ryan,” Martinez said.

“That I am,” she said. “And no one is allowed in me kitchen unless ye want a knot on the head. If ye want coffee I’ll bring itto ye in the other room. Mr. Lidle is not going to be happy you’re poking about.”

“Unfortunately, the law applies to Mr. Lidle like it does everyone else,” Martinez said. “This is an active crime scene. I don’t even need a warrant.”

Astrid was dressed in black slacks and a formal black button-down long-sleeved shirt, but Molly was dressed more casually in linen slacks and a loose white shirt. A dark green apron hung around her neck and it was speckled with flour.

“Who are you making dinner for?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Mr. Lidle is expected home this evening,” she said. “And he said there would be eight guests.”

Martinez rocked back on his heels. “Should I assume that Mrs. Lidle wasn’t invited since she’s unconscious in the hospital?”

“Aye, she’s fine,” Molly said curtly. “I already told yer baby officer that’s poking around the house. Mr. Lidle doesn’t like the household to be interrupted, and we’ll all catch hell for it. Ye’ll see. Sometimes Ms. Kitty tipples the sherry. No need to make such a big fuss. Just like I told Astrid here.” Molly slammed the dough down on the counter again and gave Astrid a scathing look. “Should have let her sleep it off instead of calling the police.”

“She was barely breathing,” Astrid said. “And Evie is gone!”

“Nonsense,” Molly said. “Girl was right as rain last night. She’s probably down at the stables with her horses. I’m sure she got caught in the rain and couldn’t make it back to the house. But you’d have to use the brain in yer head to call down there and ask.”

“Evie is dead!” Astrid yelled.

“You haven’t watched the news? Gotten any phone calls?” I asked.

“I’m working,” Molly said indignantly. “You don’t watch the telly or answer the phone when you’re working. At least some of us don’t.” She gave a pointed look to Astrid. “And I don’t have one in my house.”

“Mrs. Ryan,” Martinez said. “Evie Lidle was found in Regent Park this morning. She was murdered.”

“What are ye blathering about?” she asked, staring daggers at Martinez. “What kind of filth is this? I want ye out of this house.” She flapped a cup towel at him and said, “Get! Shoo!”

“Did you try to tell her?” Martinez asked Astrid, not moving from his spot.

“She’s not good at listening while she’s yelling,” Astrid said, her mouth pressing in a thin line. “I told her it was all over the news, but she doesn’t watch television. She says it rots the brain. And the house was quiet this morning.”

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