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“Detective Steele. My partner, Detective Stenson, and we need to ask you some questions.”
The woman pointed at the man. “He started this whole thing, I can assure you.”
Amanda held up a hand and shook her head. “We’re not here because of your arguing, though I do suggest that you refrain from physical assault.”
“See?” Charlie smirked. “Keep your hands off me.”
Faye shot him daggers, then turned the look on Amanda. “If you’re not here because of this rat bastard, why then? And if it doesn’t involve him, can he please leave?”
Trent turned to the man. “Who are you?”
“Charlie Doug—”
“He’s my no-good cheatin’ husband.” Faye made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes. “But I’m finished putting up with his crap. I’m getting myself a lawyer.” She spoke with her gaze on Charlie but worded things as if she were talking to Amanda and Trent.
“I told you, I never slept with her.”
As much as the idea didn’t thrill her, Charlie sticking around might be useful. “If we could just speak with both of you… Possibly somewhere we could all sit down, take a few deep breaths.”
Faye shot more lasers at Charlie but acquiesced and took them to the living room. To call the place a sty would be unfair to pigs. Guess it was the same for maids as it was for mechanics and handymen: while they tended to other people’s issues, their own fell apart.
Once everyone was seated, Amanda started things off. “How long have you been married?” The question was purely motivated by her goal to ascertain whether Charlie had been around at the time of Chapman’s murder. She certainly had no desire to play marriage counselor.
“Twenty long years,” Faye said. “I’d be free on good behavior if I’d just killed him.”
“Really, Faye? Again with all that hostility in front of the cops,” Charlie mumbled.
“As we made clear, we have questions for you, Faye,” Amanda said, “but, Charlie, you might have something to offer.” As she verbalized that, she built on her fictional scenario. If Chapman had found out that Faye was a thief and threatened to turn her over to the police, it would have affected the family’s livelihood. What’s to say Charlie didn’t step in to prevent that from happening?
“Whatever it is, ask and leave,” Faye said and added, “Please, for the love of God, let’s get this over with quickly. I need a break from that man.”
“You worked for Naomi Chapman fifteen years ago, correct?” Amanda got to the point.
“I’m sure you know I did, or you wouldn’t be here,” Faye responded. “Though with that said, I don’t know why you’re interested in me after this long.”
“Her murder was never solved,” Trent said. “And you were brought to our attention.”
“Well, I had nothing to do with it.”
Interesting she’d go right there. “Why would you assume we’d think you did?”
“Isn’t that much obvious?” Faye raised her eyebrows, creasing deep furrows in her forehead. “You’re here now. But if you did your homework, you’d know the police questioned me and had no suspicions.”
Dennis said Douglas had found Chapman, but nothing beyond that. If he ever considered her a suspect, he hadn’t been forthcoming on that point. And it wasn’t like he was armed with Shirley’s testimony to Faye’s shady employment history, or her sticky fingers. “Do you know why they looked at you?”
“I found Naomi. That seemed to be enough to question me for hours.”
There wasn’t currently any sign that Faye was affected by Chapman’s murder, but it had been some time ago. “Forgive me for saying this, but you don’t seem too broken up about Naomi’s death.”
“Hey now,” Charlie jumped in. “She was upset for a long time. She even saw a shrink for a bit.”
“A therapist.” Amanda made the politically correct revision, a compulsion that she couldn’t ignore. She’d never much cared for the slang term, even when it was acceptable.
“Whatever. Faye saw her for six months after…” Charlie added.
“It would have been quite shocking to find her like that.” Amanda flipped her approach. Empathizing often worked to get people to talk.
“It was horrifying.” Faye’s eyes glazed over, and she licked her lips. “I remember it like yesterday. I’d just let myself in through the garage. I had my earbuds in, listening to some music. All I was thinking about was getting started and getting done. But I rounded the kitchen peninsula and— Boom! She was right there. So much blood.” Faye took a deep breath after relaying all this. There wasn’t much evidence of emotion as she had rehashed it all in robotic manner. Her time in therapy may have helped her detach from the experience.
