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Amanda hadn’t considered Felicity would go that far, but had that been her intention? “I’ve got another question for you. If all this led to Felicity’s murder, how did the killer find out about her sleuthing?”
Shirley Morton’s house was the one on the east side of what had been Chapman’s place—not that one could tell them apart. All the houses on the street looked alike. The development would have been new fifteen to twenty years ago, but it wasn’t aging well.
The neighborhood was bustling with activity. Peals of children’s laughter and talking rang through the air. Some bicycles lay abandoned on front lawns, while some kids pedaled fast down the sidewalk. A man was washing his car in his driveway.
Shirley’s house was dark, and Amanda didn’t think they’d find her at home until a shadow crossed the front window and proved her wrong.
Amanda rang the doorbell, after already knocking once. The chime was a standard ding-dong, and it had footsteps padding toward them. The door swung open.
The woman didn’t look older than mid-sixties but had a head of gray hair and deep-green eyes. “Hello?”
“Shirley Morton?” Amanda asked, holding up her badge, as did Trent beside her.
“I am.”
“We’re Detectives Steele and Stenson,” Amanda said and tucked her badge away.
“About time I’m being taken seriously.”
The woman’s reaction took Amanda off guard. She angled her head. “About what, ma’am?”
“That poor young woman who was murdered.” She pointed next door to what had been Chapman’s house. “I assume that’s why you’re here. Can’t concoct any other reason you’d be interested in talking with me. Come in. Just wipe your shoes on the mat.”
Amanda and Trent stepped inside and did as Shirley had requested.
Shirley’s house was cluttered with bric-a-brac and the color palette consisted predominantly of dusty rose and hunter green. She seemed to be stuck somewhere back in the nineties. “Please, sit wherever you’ll be comfortable.” She gestured into the sitting room full of antique furniture, predating the color scheme. The cushions on the couch were thin and scalloped wood accented the back and arms.
Amanda sat in a chair, as did Trent. Shirley took up residence on the couch.
“You weren’t surprised to see us, Ms. Morton,” Amanda said. “Why is that?”
“I heard about that crime author, Felicity Kelley, being murdered. She came around asking questions several months ago now. Just showed up at my door one day out of the blue.”
Amanda glanced at Trent. She wasn’t sure if his hackles were raised like hers, but it was unsettling that this woman seemed to link both murders. “May I ask why you think the two incidents are related—her murder and us being here?”
“Not so much your being here, but she pushed her nose in. From what I know, Naomi’s case was never solved, and Felicity was a nosy little thing. I’ve learned in all my years that the past is often best left alone.”
“Would you be willing to tell us what you told her? It could be very helpful in assisting our investigation,” Trent said, tacking on a gentle smile.
“Well, she asked if I remembered that night. I assured her, it’s not one I’ll ever forget. Bet your ass.”
Amanda smirked at the mature woman’s spunk.
“Police lights, sirens, the whole works… Oh, and forensics people. I still remember seeing her body going out in a black bag and being loaded into a van.”
“That must have been hard to witness,” Amanda empathized, though she noted it hadn’t scarred Shirley enough to pull up roots and move.
“It was. She was so young, pretty little thing too. Her whole life really had been ahead of her before someone saw fit to kill her.”
Amanda stiffened. It was the way Shirley put it that had Amanda suspecting she never considered Chapman’s murder the result of a robbery. “Did you see anyone stalking outside her house that night? Even earlier in the evening?” She was tiptoeing around, curious if Shirley would share the bit about the front light with them. And she certainly wasn’t going to be the one that brought it up.
“Nope, and I said the same to detectives that had come around back then. I told them I saw the light on her front porch turn on.”
Amanda wasn’t sure how much faith she put in that meaning anything. Exterior lights could be set up with a motion-sensor and triggered by movement. But she and Trent were here because this point seemed to have mattered to Felicity, and Amanda wanted to find out why. “Did you see anyone at her door?”
“Actually, I didn’t, but there’s a good reason for that. The window in our bedroom faces the house next door. It was late, and both of us—that’s myself and Paul, my late husband, may he rest in peace—were already in bed with our lights out. But our curtains weren’t exactly blackout ones and when Naomi’s front light came on, it would glow around the edges and bleed into our room.”
“Then you were aware it had come on but didn’t get out of bed to see what was going on?” Amanda pieced together what she believed the woman was trying to say.
