Yes. He’s absolutely right.
“Tell me something, Juan Manuel,” I say. “Do you like puzzles? Jigsaw puzzles?”
“Do I like them? I love them.”
Just then, there’s a knock at the door. I feel my stomach sink and find my legs are glued to the floor.
“Molly, can we open?…Molly?”
“Yes, of course,” I say.
I force my legs to move. We both reach the door. I unlock and open it.
Charlotte and Mr. Preston are standing there, and behind them, Detective Stark.
My knees weaken and I brace myself against the doorframe.
“It’s okay, Molly,” Mr. Preston says. “It’s okay.”
“The detective is here with good news,” Charlotte adds.
I hear the words, but I’m unable to move. Juan Manuel is at my side, keeping me upright. I hear a door open down the hall and the next thing I see is Mr. Rosso standing behind Detective Stark. It’s like a party at my front door.
“I knew it!” he yells. “I knew you were no good, Molly Gray. I saw you on the news! I want you out of this building, you hear me? Officer, get her out of here!”
I can feel the rush of shame burning into my cheeks, robbing me of my voice.
Detective Stark turns to Mr. Rosso. “Actually, sir. That news report was misinformed. There’ll be a correction issued in about an hour. Molly is entirely innocent of any wrongdoing. In fact, she’s tried to help with this case, and that wasn’t understood at first. That’s why I’m here.”
“Sir,” Charlotte says to Mr. Rosso, “as I’m sure you’re aware, you can’t simply evict tenants with no cause. Has Ms. Gray paid the rent?”
“Late, but yes, she paid,” he replies.
“Ms. Gray is a model tenant who does not deserve your harassment,” Charlotte says. “Also, Detective Stark,” she says, “did you notice any elevator in this—”
“I’m sorry, I must go,” Mr. Rosso says, and begins to rush away.
“Goodbye!” Charlotte calls after him.
The hall is quiet. We’re all standing at my door. All eyes are on me. I don’t know what to do.
Mr. Preston clears his throat. “Molly, would you be so kind as to invite us in?”
My legs rouse themselves from their torpor. As I regain my strength, Juan Manuel’s grip releases.
“My apologies,” I say. “I’m not accustomed to receiving so many guests. But it’s not unwelcome company. Do come in.”
Juan Manuel stands like a sentinel to the side of the door, greeting each guest and asking them to take off their shoes, which he wipes down with shaky hands and neatly places in the front closet.
All of my guests walk into the sitting room and stand awkwardly. What are they waiting for?
“Please,” I say. “Have a seat.”
Mr. Preston goes to the kitchen and comes back with two chairs, which he places across from the sofa.
“Would anyone like tea?” I ask.
“I’d murder for a cuppa,” Mr. Preston says.
“Dad!”
“Poor choice of words. Apologies.”
“That’s quite all right, Mr. Preston,” I say. I turn to Detective Stark. “We all make mistakes from time to time, don’t we, Detective?”
Detective Stark appears very interested in her own stockinged feet. It must be unusual for her, to take off her boots on a work call, to have her tender tootsies so exposed.
“So,” I say. “What about that tea?”
“I will make it,” Juan Manuel replies. His eyes flit to the detective and then he makes a hasty retreat into the kitchen.
Mr. Preston offers Detective Stark a seat, and she obliges. Charlotte sits in her usual chair. I take my place on the sofa, with Mr. Preston beside me in the spot where Gran always sat, before.
“As you can imagine,” I say, “I’m most curious to know what has transpired in the last few hours. I would most expressly appreciate knowing if I remain accused of murder.”
I hear a spoon clatter against the tiled floor in the kitchen.
“Sorry!” Juan Manuel calls out.
“All charges against you are dropped,” Detective Stark says.
“All of them,” Charlotte repeats. “The detective wanted you to come to the station so she could tell you in person, but I insisted she face you here instead.”
“Thank you,” I say to Charlotte.
She leans forward in her chair, looking right into my eyes. “You’re innocent, Molly. You understand? They know that now.”