to her sister. As I’d discovered with my therapist, sometimes emotional crap was easier to confront with someone who was all but a stranger. I’d lay on the famous Aarav Rai charm and try to get a dialogue going, do a good deed for once.
“Hiya.” The smiling comment came from one of the landscaping people Diana had just cheerfully maligned.
This one was wearing brown shorts and a brown zip-up fleece emblazoned with the logo of the landscaping company. A straw hat protected her from the winter sun, and she had gardening gloves in hand, her feet clad in sturdy boots and socks. With sun-streaked brown hair and tanned skin, she was straight out of central casting for “sporty nature girl.”
“Hi,” I replied. “Here to mow the lawns?”
“Yep. And do a bit of general tidy-up.” She pointed to her colleague, a bearded male who already had the mower out.
Fluro-yellow ear protectors hung from around his neck.
“I don’t suppose you know if the Fitzpatricks’ dog is on the property?” she asked. “Usually, they take him to the kennel the mornings we’re here, but I haven’t heard from them today.”
“The dog passed away, I’m afraid.” I tried not to think about my dirty feet and midnight walk, that box of rat poison on top of the fridge.
A small exhale she didn’t cover quite quickly enough. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He was vicious, wasn’t he?”
Too well trained at dealing with wealthy people to lower her guard, the landscaper gave me a noncommittal glance. “I better get to work. Have a nice day.”
“Wait. Do you know if they had any poisonous mushrooms on their property?”
Lines furrowed her forehead. “None of which I’m aware, but this close to the Waitaks, there’s no knowing what might appear.”
As she walked away to join her colleague, I thought of all the people who moved through the Cul-de-Sac on any given day. Not just the residents, but people like the landscapers and Adrian. He wasn’t the only personal trainer who came in here, either. Then there were the cleaners and maids and pool-maintenance people. A cleaning company van was even now parked near my father’s place. Mary’s crew, I realized. They had to be inside, doing their work.
A few of the residents also had live-in staff, like Anastasia with her nanny, and Isaac with the caregiver who looked after his father.
I’d forgotten old Phil in my earlier census of the neighborhood. Likely because no one ever saw him—last I’d heard, he was bedridden after a major stroke. His caregiver lived full-time with Isaac and Mellie . . . though come to think of it, I hadn’t seen the lanky male nurse recently, either.
I shrugged off the irrelevant thought and ran my eye over the area again.
31
Paul and Margaret aside, Cul-de-Sac rich were the kind of people who didn’t like to be flashy, but who probably had millions more tucked away than the rich who more often appeared in the gossip columns and online social-media pages. Of the people who lived here, I was probably the most recognizable to outsiders now that Paul had stopped touring.
Which was why I wasn’t the least surprised when a television van pulled up in front of my father’s house just as I reached it. Instead of swearing, I smiled. This had taken longer than I’d thought—I’d expected a media frenzy the day after the discovery of my mother’s car. Could be they’d been thrown by my relocation to the Cul-de-Sac.
I couldn’t remember if I’d ever mentioned my childhood home in an interview.
“Aarav!” It was a reporter who’d interviewed me after the Blood Sacrifice movie hit big—Vivienne something. A tall brunette with shining hair and green eyes, she thrust a microphone in my face while her cameraman ran around to capture the footage. “The discovery of your mother’s remains must’ve come as a shock. How are you coping?”
“Unless you know something I don’t,” I said, keeping my tone mild, “the remains haven’t been officially identified.” The information had leaked, of course, but the police hadn’t actually confirmed the supposition that the bones were all that remained of Nina Parvati Rai.
She didn’t miss a beat. “The remains were found in her car. Do you have hopes it’s not your mother?”
“Would you blame me if I did?” I gave her haunted eyes. It was hard; mostly, I was angry, but angry didn’t get the world on your side and didn’t get people to trust you and give you things. “I’m sad, Vivienne.”
The slightest parting of her lips—she