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She pocketed her phone, and Trent was looking at her—raised eyebrows and pressed lips. If his facial cues weren’t enough, his pointing at his phone told her he wanted to know when to set up the meeting with the agent.
“Right now,” she said, speaking lowly.
Into his phone, Trent said, “How does within the next half hour work?… Yes, I know where your office is located… All right. I’ll see you soon.” He put his phone away and brought Amanda up to speed. “She’s good to meet at her office right now.”
She smiled, having gathered as much from his side of the conversation.
“What about Navarro?”
“Malone’s going to have officers bring him in.”
“Huh. He’ll have some time to stew.” A smirk passed his lips.
“How did Livingston strike you?”
“Strange and noncommittal.”
“Then she doesn’t know about Felicity’s murder yet. Malone just informed me it’s hit the news.”
“She didn’t give me the impression it had reached her. On the upside, she could give us information on the book Felicity was currently working on. Then we’ll be able to avoid the confidentiality agreement with G & M.”
“I’m not sure she’ll be any more open about it than the publisher.”
“I suppose. Her confidentiality is likely already contracted.”
“Most likely.”
They made it down to the lobby and headed toward the car, and Trent took them to Livingston’s agency, which he informed her was called the Living Word.
“It sounds like the name of a church.”
He smiled. “Great minds… I thought the same.”
Amanda looked up the website for the Living Word on the way there. It was a boutique literary agency with one agent—Justine Livingston. The site boasted a small stable of authors, but some even Amanda recognized. Apparently, Justine Livingston was highly sought after in the publishing industry, just as Celeste had told them.
When they got there, Trent had to pay for street parking.
A man was sitting at the front desk, and he smiled broadly as Amanda and Trent walked toward him. “How can I help you?”
Given the posh energy coming from the pages of the website, Amanda would have expected a cooler reception. After all, he served as Justine Livingston’s gatekeeper.
Trent held up his badge. “We’re Detectives Stenson and Steele to see Justine Livingston.”
The man barely glanced at Trent’s gold shield. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Good heavens, Jeremy.” Justine Livingston swept into the reception area, bringing with her a cloud of cloying perfume. It was likely expensive as it was a blend of layered fragrances. “Did I not tell you I was expecting people?”
Jeremy’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Justine rolled her eyes and turned her gaze on Trent and took him in from his shoes to his forehead. “You, I spoke with on the phone but, you, I don’t know.” She turned her attention to Amanda.
“Detective Steele,” she said.
“And I’m Detective Stenson, if you don’t remember my name,” Trent said.
“I remember,” Justine said coolly.
“Do you have somewhere private we could talk?” Amanda asked, prompting the woman to stop with her judgmental glances.
