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“Usually,” Malone said, “but they are familiar with the vic, and it might move the investigation to a speedier resolution. I assume justice is something we’re all after?”
Silence, except for the faint buzzing of a lawnmower.
Both men locked in a stare down, but Malone always won. He was a tough old bird that Amanda was happy to have on her side—at least he was most of the time.
“It is, Sarge,” Fred eventually said. “But you might want to ask yourself why Amanda was the last person the victim called… well, besides Lorenzo’s for pizza.”
Malone’s turn to ride the silence, and he touched his groomed beard and leveled his gaze at Amanda. “Do you care to chime in here?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The last person… Fred had prepared her for that, but it wasn’t any easier to hear a second time.
THREE
Time suspended as Malone, Fred, even Trent, looked at Amanda for an answer. She was still processing being one of the last people Felicity Kelley had called.
“Steele?” Malone prompted.
“Honestly, I don’t know why exactly. She called when I was on the flight home, and we never connected. I was returning her call this afternoon. That’s when Detective Hudson answered.”
Fred’s shoulders relaxed, and he had this smug look on his face that Amanda would be happy to wipe off—if she wasn’t so busy mentally beating herself up and entertaining the flood of if onlys again.
“Apparently, the two were close enough, boss. Amanda was also in the vic’s contacts. I’d say this all points to a conflict of interest.” The latter, a remark he obviously had to get out.
Malone narrowed in on her again, his brow pinched. “How close were you?”
Damn you, Fred! Malone knew she’d had dealings with Felicity, but Fred’s comments opened her up for an inquisition. “Felicity was a mystery writer,” she started calmly, “and I told her she could call me if she had questions about police procedure. Yesterday was the first time she reached out to me.”
“And that’s why she put your number in her phone?” This was from Fred, no attempt at masking his skepticism. He was desperately trying to make their connection appear stronger than it truly was—whatever would get Amanda off the case and him back on.
She wasn’t the rollover type. “I can’t control how a person organizes their life. She probably just wanted to make sure that she didn’t lose my number.”
“Huh, well, that makes sense to me.” Malone looked at Fred. “Satisfied?”
Fred mumbled something incoherent.
“I asked you a question, Detective,” Malone said firmly.
“I have to be, apparently.”
“Detective Steele isn’t hiding her relationship with the victim, though I think relationship is stretching things,” Malone said.
“It is,” Amanda agreed.
Fred fired daggers at her and went to leave the room.
“Wait, where do you think you’re going?” Malone called out.
Fred stopped walking and turned around. “You’ve given the case to Detectives Steele and Stenson, unless I misunderstood?”
“Oh, no, you got the message loud and clear, but have you already brought them up to speed? Or were you just going to leave them to scuttle through and waste not only man hours but squander precious time that could be better used in catching up with the killer? Start talking.” Malone pointed from Fred to Amanda and Trent. “And if you two have questions, ask them now.”
Fred walked back to them as he pulled a notebook and pen out of a pocket. He flipped it open. “Victim is Felicity Kelley, twenty-eight years old, single—”
“That much they’d know,” Malone huffed and shook his head.
“Very well. Felicity was found by her friend Celeste Sweeney at eleven thirty AM, that being this morning, Wednesday, August—”
Malone held up a hand. “We know what day it is.”
