“Indeed,” says Ceepak since I just set him up with a lob shot. “Why was Michael so generous to you and your sister Revae? Especially this last year?”
Monae gives us a sassy smile. “Because we’re good people.”
“Seriously,” I say. “Why did he give you and your sister such cool cars?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because we were nice to his father. See, Michael’s all the way out there in L.A. It made him feel good to know that somebody with half a heart was looking after his dad.”
Ceepak leans in. “What do you mean?”
“His daughter-in-law. Judy. She was all kinds of mean and nasty to that old man, even after he gave her and her husband everything. Liposuction. Tummy tucks.”
“For David?” I say.
“Nuh-unh. David got guitar lessons. Can you believe that? He’s fifty-six years old and still thinks he’s going to be a rock star. Dr. Rosen kept giving him hundreds and hundreds of dollars so David could learn how to play ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ out of tune.”
“You say Judith was ‘mean and nasty’ to him?” says Ceepak.
“Not in front of people like you or, you know, rich people. When she’s with folks like that, Judy acts all nicey-nicey. But when there’s nobody around for her to impress? Well, I heard all the horrible things she said to Dr. Rosen, especially when she’d been drinking.”
“How do you mean?”
“I worked nights, Detective Ceepak. Evil people like Judith Rosen, night is when their darkest demons come out-especially if they’ve had a couple glasses of that Pinot Grigio.”
“She said these ‘horrible’ things, even though you were there to witness the conversations?”
“Uhm-hmm. You ever see that movie The Help?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, Judy and her big tuckus would fit right in down there in Mississippi; playing bridge and nibbling egg salad sandwiches with all those rich white ladies. A person like Judy, she sees a black woman in a uniform, she thinks we’re invisible.”
“So what exactly did you hear?”
“Things no civilized person should ever say, especially not to a ninety-four-year-old man lying in his sick bed. She’d come by the beach house nine or ten o’clock at night, before her husband came home from his office …”
Ceepak looks surprised. “David Rosen typically worked past ten o’clock at night? At Sinclair Enterprises?”
Monae shoots Ceepak a knowing look. “Um-hmm. Would you hurry home to a nasty piece of work like that?”
“What’d she say?” I ask, so Ceepak doesn’t have to field the “nasty piece of work” question.
“‘Why don’t you do us all a favor and die?’”