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“Whoa, look.” One of them, who was tilting back, balancing precariously on the rear legs of his chair, pointed at Amanda and Trent as they stepped onto the patio.
Another one tossed back the rest of his beer. The third stood, turned off the music, and came over.
She and Trent were holding up their badges. “Are you Kurt Archer?”
“That’s me.” He winked at her, and she felt slimy and pissed off at the same time.
“Detective Steele, and I suggest you keep your distance.” She held up a hand and stepped back.
“She’s not into you, man.”
“You’ve been told.”
Just great, the peanut gallery is weighing in! “Is there somewhere that Detective Stenson and I can talk with you?”
“Something wrong with right here?”
Kurt’s buddies were leering so badly, she would have thought they’d just gotten released from a long prison stay. For all she knew, they could have. “Actually, yes, there is.” She motioned for him to follow her around the side of the house.
“I’ll be right back,” Kurt told his friends.
“Good for you,” one of them replied and let out a cat whistle.
Amanda took a deep breath. Alcohol really did turn some people into idiots. She pivoted and Kurt was right there, mere inches away. She moved back, because why waste her breath and ask him to give her space?
“Here, put this on.” Trent thrust a T-shirt toward Kurt. He must have swung by the table for it before joining them at the side of the house.
“If I must.” Again, he winked at Amanda, and she was grateful she had some patience and tolerance or she might have hauled off and hit the guy.
After Kurt put his shirt on, she said, “We have questions about Naomi Chapman.”
“Who? Oh, right, her.” That couldn’t have come out with more disgust or disdain.
“You’re not a fan?” Trent asked.
“Nope, never was, and especially wasn’t after she got me fired. But I do all right.”
There was a point in his favor that he’d been forthcoming about what Naomi had done to him. Whether he was currently doing all right was debatable. “What do you do, Mr. Archer?”
“Oh, Mister? I like that. So formal.” His grin faded, likely in direct correlation to the grimace on her face.
“May I remind you that I’m an officer of the law and here on a serious matter,” she pushed out.
He held up his hands. “Sorry. But, uh, yeah, I work for a landscape and snow removal company these days. Me and the guys just got off for the day.”
It surprised her he’d kept the conversational thread and answered her question. “Naomi Chapman. What was the relationship between you two?”
“Enemies. I’m sure she felt threatened by me. But she won in the end. Got me fired.”
This was the second time he made this admission. She acted as if this was news. “How was that?”
He told them the same story they’d heard from Wendell Barrett.
“That would have sucked. How did that make you feel?” Trent asked.
“It pissed me off, torpedoed my publishing career before it started. But I got my revenge.”
The back of Amanda’s neck tightened, as her entire body stiffened. Could he be the man in the Washington Nationals hat? But given his love for alcohol, it was likely Moose would have recognized him. She also couldn’t imagine Kurt chatting up a woman at a bar while drinking non-alcoholic beer all night.
