“No, not really,” Daphne said. “I’m not the jealous type.”
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Duncan said, holding the last cookie in his hand. “You know Priscilla’s pregnant, right?”
“It’s hard to miss.”
“And you still make her walk up and down the hill? That’d kill me and I’m not carrying a child, though it may look like it.”
Daphne gave Duncan a cold glare and moved the carton of Oreos out of his reach. “I’ve offered many times to drive her, but she says she likes the walk. Besides, I’m half-asleep and still in my pajamas at seven thirty. It’s not a convenient time to get in my car. What is this about? Are you working with INS?”
Eve cocked her head. “Why do you ask that? Is she illegal?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed since you’re so interested in her, that’s what it must be. She’s certainly no criminal.”
Duncan said, “How would you know if you two never really talked?”
“Because she’s so sweet and caring and trustworthy,” Daphne said. “I’ve left plenty of jewelry and cash lying around and she’s never touched it, except to move out of the way to dust.”
“She’d have to be more dumb than dishonest to fall for that,” Duncan said.
Eve asked, “Do you know if she has any friends in the community?”
“She usually walks down to the bus stop with the lady who works at the Greenbergs’ house.”
“Where do they live?”
“23780 Park Venice. Sheryl Greenberg and I do Pilates together. It was her maid who recommended Priscilla to me.”
Duncan finished his cookie and asked, “Do you know Anna McCaig?”
Daphne still glared at him. “No, who is she?”
“One of your neighbors, over on Park Ronda.”
“Where the patrol car is parked?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Never met her. There’s a couple of hundred houses here and people don’t talk much,” Daphne said. “What happened? People are saying it’s a murder.”
“Really?” Duncan said. “I thought you and your neighbors didn’t talk much.”
“We do when there’s a murder.”
Eve closed her notebook and smiled at Daphne. “Thank you so much for your help and the snack. We appreciate it.”
She and Duncan walked out of the kitchen, Daphne behind them. “You never mentioned why you want to talk with Priscilla.”
Duncan looked back at her as they reached the front door. “I’m looking for someone to clean my house.”
Eve and Duncan were silent until they got into his car, then he turned to her and said, “Remember what I said about keeping an open mind?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you find it odd that she’s struggling to have a kid and she’s picked today to repaint, two days after her pregnant maid never left Oakdale and Anna McCaig found a baby in her dumpster?”
“You think Anna was telling the truth and that Daphne Grayle killed Priscilla for her baby, it went bad, so she tossed the baby in Anna McCaig’s dumpster?”
“I think after meeting Daphne Grayle,” he said, “it’s a much stronger possibility.”
“It crossed my mind, too, but there’s too much that doesn’t track. Why not dispose of the baby with the mother’s body?”
“To shift suspicion to Anna McCaig, who Daphne Grayle knew was even more desperate than her to have a baby.”
It seemed far-fetched to Eve. How could Daphne know that Anna wouldn’t immediately call the police when she found the baby in her dumpster rather than try to pretend it was her own? Eve didn’t believe the killer was Daphne and they were running out of time to hold Anna on the 5150. “I still think Anna McCaig did it.”
“We searched her place and it was clean. I want to search Grayle’s property,” Duncan said. “But to convince a judge to give us a warrant, we’re going to need more evidence.”
“Like confirming that Priscilla Alvarez is actually missing and not safe at home or cleaning someone else’s house today,” Eve said. “We should check if there are any new reports of missing pregnant women.”
“I checked this morning. There weren’t any. But we can check again.”
“We could also reach out to the cellular provider for Priscilla’s phone and ask them to track her movements.”