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Kurt held up a hand. “I just keyed her precious Beemer. I didn’t… kill her. Wish I could have stuck around to see her reaction to her ruined paint job though.”
The act of vandalism was news. Naomi must not have been too affected by it or her friend would have likely mentioned the incident when she was interviewed.
“Where were you the night of the robbery?” Trent asked.
Kurt looked at him. “You really mean did I murder her?”
Trent hitched his shoulders. “Just answer my question.”
“You really think I killed her?”
Drunk or not, he had some brain cells left. He was just a little slow arriving. “It has crossed our minds. Did you?”
“Ah, no. She messed up my life enough, thank you. I certainly wasn’t going to prison for her ass.”
Huh. Valid point. Still, she said, “If you could answer the other question though… where you were that night.”
“It really was forever ago.”
“Try to remember. For me.” Softening her voice was as far as she was willing to go to play her feminine wiles. The thought of tagging on a smile made her want to gag.
“I’m quite sure I was with my girlfriend. Don’t ask me how you’d reach her now. We’ve long since fallen out of touch.”
That answer had hardly been worth her effort. “We have ways of finding people. Her name?”
“Mia. Something or other.”
“Charming,” she mumbled. “Then from what I’m hearing, you don’t have an alibi?”
“I do, I do, I swear.”
She’d let the matter go—for now—and focus on another purpose for being here. “Do you remember the names of the other interns who worked with you at the time?”
“Nope. I put all of it out of my mind. Just remember Naomi because of what she did to me and then finding out she was murdered.”
Amanda pulled her card and handed it to Kurt. “Only call me if you remember Mia’s last name.” She wanted to make it clear she wasn’t interested in hearing from him for any personal agenda he might have.
He laid a hand over his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” Amanda spun to leave, and back at the car, she shared her earlier thought with Trent, “What is it with booze and its power to transform people into idiots?”
Trent just laughed.
“On a more serious note, we can’t exactly verify Archer’s alibi, but I don’t think he did it.” She laid out her thinking about the guy on the video chatting with Jane Burr.
“Me neither. Booze is also a kind of truth serum. His reaction to Naomi said it all for me. He hated her; he wasn’t going to risk going to prison because of her.”
“Yet he risked jail time by keying her car.”
“Carries a lighter sentence than murder.”
“Just a tad.” She smirked at him as her phone rang. She held up the screen for Trent to see M. Chapman—Naomi’s father, Michael—the caller’s ID. “Detective Steele,” she answered. “Thank you for returning my call.” She proceeded to ask about his conversation with Felicity Kelley, leaving out all mention of his bribe to Edmond McCormick. After about five minutes, she hung up.
“So, what did he say?”
“He provided Felicity with photos of the brooch, cufflinks, and earrings. I asked if he suspected anyone, and his response—to a cop—was if he had any, he’d have dealt with them.”
“Can’t say Mr. Chapman takes things sitting down.”
