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“Were you and Naomi close, friends even?” Trent asked.
Faye was quick to shake her head. “She was the boss, I worked for her. She didn’t even know I was there unless something wasn’t done quite to her liking.”
Such as stealing from her, Amanda thought, but refrained from saying as much out loud. “Such as?”
Faye played with the hem of her T-shirt. “She was finicky. If I missed a spot dusting, or, heaven forbid, a hair tumbleweed made itself known after I did the floors, she’d have a bird.”
“She was a rich and spoiled daddy’s girl,” Charlie pushed out.
“Other than that, how was your professional relationship? Were there ever any other types of disagreements between you? Maybe over your pay, or did she ever make false allegations?” Amanda tacked on the last question, hoping to slip it in there somewhat obscured.
Faye’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she shook her head.
“She never falsely accused you of, say, stealing from her?” Amanda framed the question in a kind manner, removing any trace of judgment by putting the onus on Chapman.
“I’m going to guess you heard about a situation with a previous employer several months before I started to work for Naomi.” She paused there, but neither Amanda nor Trent confirmed. “But whatever, it was a tough time, and I admit that I helped myself to some cash that was lying around a client’s house.”
“But she paid it all back,” Charlie rushed out, coming to his wife’s defense. The act barely made a dent in the woman’s hardened exterior.
“No charges were ever laid. I’m sure you could see that for yourself.” Faye raised an eyebrow. “As Charlie said, I paid it back and just wanted to put the whole sordid mess behind me.”
“I can understand that. Can we assume you never took anything from Naomi?” Amanda tried to soften the confrontational question with a precursor.
“Not once. I just did my job and left.”
Amanda bobbed her head. “The night she was killed, where were you?”
“I answered all that back then, but I was here with Charlie.”
“All night?” The fact she remembered her whereabouts on a single night fifteen years ago wasn’t a surprise given the surrounding context of finding Chapman dead the following morning.
“That’s right. From the time I left another client’s home at five.”
Charlie was nodding.
Then Faye Douglas hadn’t been Naomi Chapman’s midnight visitor. But Amanda was curious if Felicity had visited Faye. “Do you happen to know Felicity Kelley?”
Faye looked at her husband, back to Amanda. “I’ve heard of her.”
The couple’s eye contact disclosed there was more to it than that. “Did she come around, possibly asking questions about Naomi after all this time?”
Faye worried her bottom lip.
Amanda considered what might make the woman so coy and landed on a reason. “We don’t suspect you in her murder, if that’s what’s concerning you.”
Faye ballooned her cheeks, blew out. “Good. I heard about it on the news. Sad. She seemed like a nice person too. When she showed up at my door a couple of months back, I was starstruck.”
Trent passed a brief glance at Amanda. To Faye, he said, “Why was she here?”
“She was interested in talking about Naomi’s murder. She didn’t think it had anything to do with a break-in.”
They might be venturing down the right path, after all, in considering Felicity’s poking around got her murdered. “She said that in so many words?”
“Pretty much. She was convinced someone made it look like a robbery to cover the murder.”
Convinced was a strong word. The skin tightened on the back of Amanda’s neck. “Did she mention any suspects she had in mind?”
“Wait a minute.” Faye angled her head left, then right, straightened it again. “Is this why you’re really here—the author’s murder?”
