‘What was going on?’ he asked.

‘Weren’t too hard to guess. Mr Birch was walloping on his wife. It was something bad.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I froze,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how long it lasted, but then it went god-awful quiet. Few minutes later, Mr Muscles came in, looking all white, told me to get the hell out, not to say a word to nobody. That’s what I did.’

‘Did you tell anyone?’ Cab asked.

‘Nope.’

‘When were you next in the house?’

‘Couple days, I guess. There weren’t no brunch. They cancelled it. I came around my usual day, and it was like nothing had happened. Ms Fairmont went out of her way to say everything was fine. She didn’t look fine, though. I mean, she sat in a chair and didn’t get up once while I was there. In her bedroom, too, the sheets weren’t the same. I always changed the sheets, but this time, somebody else did. Like, I don’t know, maybe there was something on them they didn’t want nobody to see.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like blood maybe.’

Cab frowned. ‘What about Drew?’

‘He stormed in while I was there. Practically foaming at the mouth. High as a kite, swearing up and down about what a bastard Mr Birch was, how he was gonna blow his fucking head off. They got me out of there fast, but I heard what I heard. Oh, yeah.’

‘Except later you said you didn’t,’ Cab said.

Gladiola looked nervously at her bare feet. ‘Like I said, why make trouble for people?’

‘Did they pay you?’

‘What?’

‘Did they pay you not to say anything?’

Her lips scrunched up. ‘Yeah.’

‘Who paid?’ Cab asked.

‘Ms Fairmont. After the murders, when all the police were nosing around.’

‘How much?’

‘Thousand bucks. I shut my mouth fast.’

Cab thought about it. The bribe may have been an innocent mistake on Diane’s part. She was protecting her son from police scrutiny and a media frenzy. Even if Drew wasn’t involved in the murders, the suspicion would have destroyed him. She was probably thinking about her fundraising efforts for the Common Way Foundation, too. A wife-beater didn’t make much of a martyr.

Diane was already becoming a very practical politician.

‘And yet here you are,’ Cab said.

‘Say what?’

‘You’re talking. Telling me what happened. Why?’

‘Rufus said you was a detective,’ Gladiola said. ‘Figured somebody should know about this.’

‘Ten years later, you suddenly decide to spill your guts? While Diane Fairmont is in the middle of a campaign for governor? I find the timing of your crisis of conscience very convenient, Gladiola. Did you go to Diane looking for more money? Did she say no?’

Her face flashed with anger. ‘I didn’t do that!’

‘What about your uncle? Did Rufus give you money?’