“I took it while she was sitting in police custody. She tried to commit murder for your husband. Who is she?”

“You’re insane.”

“You know I’m not. Who is she?”

“You’re bent on ruining us, aren’t you?”

“Not you, him. He’s the one I want to stop.” I held the photo higher. “Her name?”

Anne Spada stood silently for a time, her world destroyed, her options dwindling. “She’s our housekeeper. Nada. She cleans, she cooks, she picks up my dry cleaning—all of it badly. Nick hired her.”

“Do you know anything about her? Where she’s from?”

She shook her head, said nothing.

“Her last name? Anything?”

Anne Spada buried her head in her hands, pulled at her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t. I told you Nick hired her. Nick hires everyone. She’s just a housekeeper. Now go away.”

She took off, heading back toward the front room. I didn’t have time for this. The movers double-timed it when they saw us heading back. Their morbid interest gone now, they wanted no part of this train wreck and fled for the door. Some were carrying boxes, some running empty-handed. Anne Spada paced around the room, wringing her hands. She had no one else to call. She looked to be close to emotional collapse.

“Would he run to his boat?” I asked again.

She continued to pace, and didn’t answer. Which one of us did she hate and distrust more at this point, me or her husband? I waited, wanting to grab her and shake the information out of her. The movers snuck in, slid boxes out, and disappeared again. Anne glared at me, no doubt considering which side to come down on.

“He hates that boat. He won’t even set foot on it.” The words shot out of her mouth like nails out of a nail gun. “He won it in the divorce, not that he wanted it. He just didn’t want her to have it. She was a horrible woman, a bitch, that’s what Nick said.”

“Is that why he let Vince Darby stay on it? Because he didn’t care what happened to it?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Vince? Why would he let his driver stay there?”

“Darby was his driver?”

“He’s whatever Nick tells him to be. Why did you say ‘was’?”

“He’s dead. Murdered. Horribly.”

She lost it. “That’s a lie. You’re lying.”

“Where are your children?” She shot me a confused look. “I saw photos in his office of a family—you, kids.”