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“That poor girl.” Edmond opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter. “I heard about her murder on the news.”
Amanda glanced sideways at Trent, uncertain where the older man’s mind was. “Whose murder, Mr. McCormick?”
“That author’s, of course.” His tone became snippy, and he shut the door behind them and took them to the living room.
“You’re talking about Felicity Kelley?” His mind was bouncing around, and she wanted to keep up.
“Yes.” Edmond let out an impatient huff as he dropped down into a chair with plastic wrapped around the arms.
Amanda and Trent sat on a couch, and she considered how she wanted to start the conversation. Their purpose was to uncover exactly what was said between Edmond and Felicity. “Did you know Ms. Kelley?” She’d begin playing it as if they were in the complete dark about their communication.
“Uh-huh. She popped by here for a visit, say about… Well, a few months ago.” His shoulders drooped. “Can’t remember exactly, but she was a nice girl. Very smart, but very stubborn.”
“What was she stubborn about?” Amanda couldn’t have asked for a better segue; she had a feeling this would lead the discussion right where she wanted it to go.
Edmond winked at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
That’s why I asked… Given the way the man’s reactions were all over along with his replies, she’d wager Edmond battled with dementia. “If you would be so kind as to share the reason with us…” She smiled, feeling for the man if he was losing control of his mind.
“She wanted to talk about… what was it now?”
Amanda drew inward. Would he be able to help them?
“Ah, yes. It was about that Naomi girl.”
“Naomi Chapman, sir?” Trent asked, before he passed the slightest side-glance at Amanda.
Edmond pointed a finger at Trent and beamed. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Why was she interested in her?” It was probably best to continue playing this as if she and Trent were clueless.
“She said that she was murdered. Some time ago.” Edmond rubbed his scruffy jaw.
“She was. You remember that Naomi worked for you at Between the Pages?” Amanda asked, but instantly regretted it due to Edmond’s wicked scowl and his stiffened posture.
“I remember just perfectly, thank you.”
She held up a hand in surrender. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply that—”
Edmond waved a hand. “I shouldn’t get so worked up. It’s no secret my mind isn’t what it used to be.”
Amanda refused to touch the statement, and she certainly wasn’t going to repeat her question unless it was necessary. She’d give Edmond time to pick up with the answer.
A few seconds later, Edmond said, “I remember Naomi. Beautiful girl.”
“She must have been smart as well to get that promotion from intern.” It was a pet peeve when women—or men—were characterized primarily by their looks.
“Mmm.” Edmond teetered his hand as if to imply that Naomi had been lacking in the brains department.
Amanda angled her head. “I don’t understand then. Why give her the promotion if the others were more qualified?” She and Trent had batted around the idea that a jealous colleague might be behind Chapman’s murder, and if they saw she hadn’t earned her place, that might have served as the catalyst.
“Kurt.”
Trent lowered the tablet. “Who is Kurt?”
“He was smart, knew what he was doing. He had a promising future ahead of him, but he left and found another job before I could promote him.”
Amanda was grateful that these pockets of memories remained for Edmond. The mind was a mysterious thing. “When was this?” She wasn’t going to make the same mistake of adding “do you remember” a second time.
