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“And what did you do next?” Amanda asked.
“I called nine-one-one.”
“Did you touch anything?” She wasn’t going to handle him with kid gloves. Catering to his dips in emotions would demonstrate a weakness, should he be the killer.
“Absolutely not. I backed out of the room immediately.”
“You never tried to resuscitate her or check for a pulse?” Amanda needed to be clear on the matter. If he denied such contact and they later found evidence to the contrary, Lee Steedman would have some explaining to do.
“No. I could tell that she was… gone.” His shoulders sagged with the admission.
“All right,” Amanda said. “I had to ask because it can be a natural reaction to offer help in such a situation. Sometimes it takes a while for acceptance to sink in.”
“I’m still waiting for that, but as I said, it was obvious that she was… that she was…” Lee clamped his mouth shut, and his chin quivered as another wave of grief crashed over him.
“You backed out of the room, went outside, and then what?” she asked.
“I waited for the police to arrive. That’s all, I swear. I know nothing else.” His voice was shaking, as was his hand when he put it through his hair again.
“How long have you and Jane been a couple?” Trent asked.
“Just three months.”
“But you already had a key to her place?” The progression seemed awfully fast, but then again, some people were quick to let others into their lives.
“I can imagine what you’re both thinking.” Lee looked from her to Trent and back again. “It was fast, but we were meant for each other. As corny as that might sound. We just hit it off from our first meeting, and the rest of the story wrote itself.”
She cringed at his analogy. “When did you get the key?”
“After a month of dating.” Lee smiled, though the expression wasn’t fully born. “She insisted I take it.”
“Did Jane ever mention if anyone was following or watching her?” Amanda was under no illusion her killer was a close friend. She’d ask about those who may have had an issue with Jane, but it wasn’t a priority.
Lee shook his head. “Not that she ever mentioned to me.”
“Do you know if Jane left the house last night?” Trent asked.
“Why would that matter? She was killed here,” Lee pushed out.
He struck Amanda as defensive, though she wasn’t sure why. “That’s true, but it doesn’t mean that her killer didn’t latch on to her somewhere—”
Lee sobbed, the sound and sight of it was heartbreaking. Amanda looked away, glanced at Trent, who shook his head. She took that to mean he was of the same mind as her. Lee Steedman wasn’t the killer they were after.
After several minutes, and once Lee composed himself, she asked, “What is it, Mr. Steedman?”
“She went out last night.” Tears fell and blazed trails down his cheeks. “She had a stressful week and called me around four and said she needed to go out for a drink. She asked me to join her.” He gasped a sob, then shook his head, and stood straighter.
“I’m guessing you didn’t go?” Trent angled his head.
Lee shook his head. “I couldn’t.” He made quick work of swiping his damp cheeks, as if he were suddenly embarrassed by them.
“Why was that?” Whatever had kept Lee from joining Jane last night was eating away at him. Had he been with another woman? Made up excuses to avoid the outing?
“To start, you need to know that I’m an investment banker and cater to very wealthy clients. It means I’m often on call. Last night, one such client demanded a meeting. If I had refused, he would have fired me.”
Amanda noted the shiny Mercedes behind him, and it reinforced her belief in Lee Steedman. They could verify his employment, but the car alone confirmed he made good money. “Sometimes those type of things can’t be helped. Did Jane go alone or with friends?” She’d circle back to asking for the client’s name—assuming Jane Burr had been murdered last night.
“Alone. Which she hates.” Lee looked down at the ground and pawed with his polished shoe at the driveway like an anxious horse.
