Free Gone by Jonathan Kellerman Page A

other.”
    “You heard it up here on the second floor?”
    “It was loud.”
    “What did they scream about?”
    Shayndie Winograd shook her head. “I didn’t hear the words, just the noise.”
    “Were these fights frequent?”
    “Is he a bad person? Dangerous?”
    “You’re not in any danger, ma’am. How often did he and Ms. Brand scream at each other?”
    “I don’t know —
he didn’t live here, he just came over.”
    “How often?”
    “Once in a while.”
    “When’s the last time you saw him?”
    She thought. “Weeks.”
    “When’s the last time they had an argument?”
    “Even longer… I’d say a month, maybe more?” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I try not to notice things.”
    “Not wanting to pry,” said Milo.
    “I don’t want
nahrish
—
foolish things in my life.”
    “So Mr. Meserve hasn’t been here for a few weeks.”
    “At least,” said Shayndie Winograd.
    “And when did you last see Ms. Brand?”
    “Her… let me think… not recently. But she used to come in late. The only time I ever noticed her was when I was out late with my husband and that’s not often.”
    “The children.”
    “The children get up early, everyone’s always needing something.”
    “Don’t know how you do it, ma’am.”
    “You concentrate on what’s important.”
    Milo nodded. “So you haven’t seen Ms. Brand recently. Could you think back, maybe come up with something more specific?”
    The young woman pushed back a lock of tight-sprayed, supplementary hair. “Maybe two weeks, three. I really can’t say more than that. Don’t want to give you false testimony.”
    Milo suppressed a smile. The young woman shook her head. “I go out. To work. I just don’t look at things that aren’t important.”
    “With six kids you have time to work?”
    “At the preschool, I stay half a day. What happened to her, it’s terrible. Was it the way she lived?”
    “What do you mean, ma’am?”
    “I’m not insulting her, but we live one way, they live another way.”
    “They?”
    “The outside world.” Shayndie Winograd reddened. “I shouldn’t be talking like this. My husband says each person should pay attention to their own actions, not what other people do.”
    “Your husband’s a rabbi?”
    “He has
smicha
—
he’s a rabbi but he doesn’t work as a rabbi. Half a day he does bookkeeping, the rest of the time he learns.”
    “Learns what?”
    Shayndie Winograd smiled again. “Torah, Judaism. He goes to a
kollel
—
it’s like a graduate school.”
    “Working on an advanced degree,” said Milo.
    “He learns for the sake of learning.”
    “Ah… anyway, sounds like you guys have your hands full… so, tell me about Michaela Brand’s way of life.”
    “She was the normal way. What’s the American way now.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Tight clothes, short skirts, going out all the time.”
    “Going out with who?”
    “The only one I saw was the one in the picture. Sometimes she went out alone.” Shayndie Winograd blinked. “A few times we said hello. She said my children were cute. Once she offered Chaim Sholom —
my six-year-old —
a candy bar. I took it because I didn’t want to insult her but it wasn’t kosher so I gave it to a Mexican lady who works at the day care… she always smiled at the children. Seemed like a nice girl.” Deep sigh. “So terrible for her family.”
    “She ever talk about family?”
    “No, sir. We never really had a conversation, just to say hello and smile.”
    Milo put his pad away. He hadn’t written anything down. “Anything else you can tell me, ma’am?”
    “Like what?”
    “Whatever comes to mind.”
    “No, that’s it,” said Shayndie Winograd. Another deep blush. “She was beautiful but I felt sorry for her. Showing a lot of… herself. But she was nice, smiled at the babies, one time I let her hold one because I was getting into the car and had lots of packages.”
    “So you had no problems with her.”
    “No, no, not at all.