Woman in Black by Eileen Goudge Page B

Señora is only acting out of the goodness of her heart,” he insisted, addressing Concepción as if she were a willful child he was attempting to reason with. “But if you need more than this, perhaps I can—”
    â€œThis isn’t about money.”
    Something in her expression must have told him it wasn’t just the talk of a woman too unhinged by grief to know what was good for her, because she heard the wariness in his voice as he inquired, with false solicitude, “What is it you want, then?”
    She looked him hard in the eye. “Justice.”
    Seeing that this unfortunate matter wasn’t going to be settled easily, Perez began to sweat in earnest. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re beside yourself. Perhaps I should come back another time, when we can talk about this more sensibly.”
    He got up as if to leave but was instantly brought to a halt when she commanded sharply, “ Sientate! We will talk now.” She might appear crazy, but in fact, she was thinking clearly for the first time in weeks. “You can start by explaining why there has been no investigation.”
    He shrugged, spreading his fat-fingered hands in a helpless gesture. “It was an accident. What more is there to say?”
    As she leaned toward him, she had the small satisfaction of watching him shrink from her. “The fire might have been an accident, but my daughter’s death was not. You are responsible, Perez.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “You and the Señora, whose praises you are so quick to sing. You had us penned in like cattle, with no regard for our welfare. No, even cattle are treated more humanely.”
    He sighed heavily, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief with which to mop his perspiring brow. “Whatever mistakes were made, they weren’t intentional,” he hedged by way of apology. “What good would it do to bring more trouble when there has already been so much?”
    â€œIn other words, I should just keep my mouth shut,” she said.
    â€œNo one is suggesting you don’t have a right to be upset. But—”
    â€œI would like the Señora to look me in the eye” she said scornfully, not letting him finish, “and tell me how sorry she is for my loss.”
    â€œBe reasonable,” Perez cajoled. “She’s a busy woman. You can’t possibly expect her to come all this way. Besides, if you stir up trouble, you’ll only make it worse for us all. Our people depend on the Señora to put food on the table. Think what a disaster it would be if you forced her to rebuild somewhere else.”
    But Concepción wasn’t swayed. She knew he was only playing on her sympathies in order to protect himself. “In that case, you leave me no choice but to go to her.” With a determination that gave her renewed strength, she rose to her feet, letting him know he was dismissed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Señor Perez, I have business to attend to.”

4
    The woman was giving her the Look—the one that said, Don’t I know you from somewhere? Recognition would click in next: Oh , that’s Lila DeVries . Widow of the infamous Gordon DeVries. Lila had been down this road with so many prospective employers these past weeks that she was steeling herself against yet another rejection even as Ms. Scordato of the Sterling Employment Agency went through the motions of interviewing her.
    â€œDo you have any computer experience, Mrs. DeVries?”
    â€œSome,” Lila answered. She had found that when gilding the lily, it was best not to elaborate. Especially when one’s only computer experience was e-mail and online shopping.
    â€œAre you familiar with Quicken and Excel?”
    â€œNo, but I’ve signed up for a course.” Attitude is everything , she’d read in one of the self-help books she’d checked out of the library.