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“Not really.” Trent laughed.
“Yeah, so he’s not suffering,” she added anyway. “And Zoe’s at Kristen’s, who has a swimming pool, and hanging out with her favorite cousin.”
“Not suffering either.”
“Thanks,” she teased, mocking offense at the implication her absence wouldn’t really be felt considering the circumstances.
They headed to the front door, and it was cracked open before they reached the top step.
Celeste was standing there, wearing a sweater, and hugging herself as if it were late fall or winter. “Detectives, do you have news?”
“Unfortunately, very rarely does it work that fast.” It was tempting to offer an apology, but it would be hollow. An investigation took the time it took. “Can we come in for a minute?”
“Yes, of course.” Celeste’s voice was small, strained, husky as if taxed from heavy crying jags. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes puffy.
The home was cold, the thermostat must have been set to “meat locker”. No wonder Celeste was wearing a sweater. The chill of the air hit all of Amanda’s bare flesh—arms, neck, and face—and she thought she should be able to see her breath. She shivered.
“Sorry, you’re probably freezing. The air conditioner’s busted.” Celeste must have noticed Amanda’s discomfort. “We’ve called someone in to look at it. That on top of…” She touched a hand to her cheek, her eyes glazed over, emotionally unable to finish her sentence. “We can sit out back.”
“Might be nice,” Amanda said.
Celeste led her and Trent through the house, past a galley kitchen where Barry was making tea.
He offered a cup to Amanda and Trent, but they both declined. It was easy for her as she wasn’t a tea drinker. She liked her coffee—black.
Celeste saw them to a small patio area laid out with square concrete stone. A barbecue was off to one side, and a table with an umbrella and four chairs were at the other end.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” Celeste said as she pulled out a chair for herself.
Amanda and Trent followed her lead.
“We won’t be long,” Amanda began. “We just have a couple of questions.”
“Whatever they are, I’ll do my best to answer them.” Celeste released the grip she had on her sweater; the late afternoon sun quick at working its charm.
“You know that we investigated the murder of Felicity’s sister,” Amanda said, teeing things up. “When we notified Felicity, there were a lot of papers around her living room. Today, there weren’t any. Should we find that strange?”
Celeste smiled, an expression that barely made its mark before disappearing into oblivion. “No. I helped her sort that out a long time ago. We organized all of it into totes.”
Then they had been a new addition since their initial visit to Felicity’s home, but that didn’t explain why they were now empty. Amanda and Trent looked at each other.
Barry came out with two cups of tea. He set one on the table in front of Celeste and said, “Decaf for you.” Then he retraced his steps to get the patio door.
“Oh, just the screen. Let some heat in,” Celeste suggested.
He did that and then sat next to his wife.
“You guys were looking at each other a minute ago,” Celeste said. “Like there’s something I should know?”
“We found totes in the room near the kitchen,” Trent said.
“Uh-huh. That’s where she kept them.”
“Only they were empty,” Amanda pointed out.
“Empty.” Celeste said the word as if she were trying it on, and touched a few fingers to her throat, lowered her hand.
Amanda didn’t need to ask, but it was clear the absence of paperwork was noteworthy. She still wasn’t sure exactly what it was supposed to be telling them or how it affected the investigation. “What was all that paperwork? Her books at various stages?”
