Chapter 10
TEN
Amanda slammed the car door shut, rocking the vehicle. Life had its glorious moments, but this one blew. There was no such thing as fairness. It was a concept, a scale of measuring things by some perceived standards, which made most things appear to fall short. The key may be expecting less.
“You okay?” Trent asked, slipping behind the wheel.
“Nope. But I’m going to find out what happened to Christine Lane. For her, her daughter, and Spencer.”
“We will. Together. You’ve always got me, Amanda.”
She dared to look over at him, but his gaze was on the road as he merged into traffic. “Yes, of course, I know that.”
“Good.” He glanced at her, before turning down a street that would take them in the direction of Charmed Court. The unspoken plan was to return there to access Christine’s phone.
Amanda’s phone rang, and Officer Cochran’s name flashed on the screen. “Traci?” Amanda answered using the officer’s first name.
“Hi, Amanda. So I’m here at the house on Charmed Court, and this woman has shown up claiming she’s the homeowner. She’s making quite a scene and—”
A woman was yelling in the background, “Let me in my house!”
“Tell Dominique Sharp that Detective Stenson and I will be there in a matter of minutes.”
At the mention of Dominique, it felt like Trent pressed the gas harder.
“Will do,” Traci said and hung up.
Before the line cut out, Dominique was still ranting.
“Brace yourself,” Amanda said. “Dominique sounds like a handful.”
It was only a few more minutes before Trent was pulling up to the cordon line on Charmed Court.
A crowd had formed while Amanda and Trent had been gone, and people were lined up against the tape.
It didn’t matter how advanced society became, at the core people were nosy and predictable.
Somehow witnessing other people’s suffering made many feel better about their own lives.
A red Cadillac Vistiq was parked at a haphazard angle with its nose almost touching the tape. People were gathered all around the vehicle.
Arms were flailing in front of the hood, and Amanda could guess who they belonged to from here. She got out of the car and walked with Trent through the crowd, their badges held up to part the sea of people.
“Excuse me.” She almost tripped over the foot of a woman who was slow to move out of the way. “Step aside, ma’am. Thank you.”
They reached Officer Cochran, and she and Officer Brandt were struggling to hold a woman back. The crepe suit she wore flowed over her body, a tailored fit. Expensive. The clothing and her protective stance next to the luxury vehicle confirmed her identity.
“If you don’t stay put, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you, ma’am,” Brandt threatened the woman.
“Dominique Sharp?” Amanda cut in.
The woman turned around, seeking the person who had called her name, her eyes scanning the crowds. Amanda nudged closer to her.
Traci Cochran saw Amanda then and relief flooded her expression. “That’s Detective Steele, and her partner, Detective Stenson, that I told you about.”
“You might recognize my name,” Trent said. “I left you a couple of messages.”
“Yes, I remember. What is going on here? This is my house, and they won’t let me inside, let alone past this line.” She shot an evil look at a woman who came within two feet of the Caddy.
“It’s all right now, ma’am. You can come with us.” Amanda lifted the tape, and Dominique bent under it.
“Finally. Someone’s going to give me answers.” Dominique looked over her shoulder. “My Cadillac, though? I’d rather put it in my garage than leave it out there on the street.”
“That’s not an option right now. It will be fine where it is.” Amanda butted her head at Traci Cochran, who nodded.
“It better be, or I’ll be suing the Prince William County PD. I’m a lawyer.” She plucked a silver case from her pocket, pulled a business card from it, and extended it to Amanda between two long, slender fingers. Her nails were long and pointed, manicured and polished in a hot red.
Amanda extracted the card, careful not to get cut by Dominique’s talons. The embossed logo read Sharp & Associates. She held the card so that Trent could see it.
“It’s my company, and I didn’t get to where I am by letting people tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. And that includes cops.”
“Well, as you might have gleaned, there’s a situation inside your house.” Out of mercy, Amanda didn’t declare the woman’s home a crime scene in so many words.
“Okay,” she dragged out. “What is Christine doing here?”
Amanda passed Trent a side-glance. This woman was a piece of work, but despite that, there was no easy way to tell her that someone was killed in her home.
“Let’s just walk up to the house.” Amanda suggested this to get farther away from the crowds.
A quick look over her shoulder, and she saw the PWC News van coming down the street.
No doubt it had Amanda’s favorite reporter, Diana Wesson, inside, arriving to break the story.
Hopefully, by the time she and Trent left, Wesson would be gone.
Once they got closer to the house, Dominique pushed out a breath. “All right. I’ve been patient. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Detective Stenson and I came here after Christine’s loved ones were concerned about her welfare. Since her vehicle was in the driveway, we tried ringing the doorbell. When that failed, we went around back and found the sliding patio door open.”
Dominique crossed her arms. “There’s no reason that should have been open.”
“Which is what we thought, so we exercised our right in such a situation to enter your home. Before I say more, we may want to go around the back, so you can have a seat.” Amanda was showing concern for Dominique’s feelings.
“Just tell me. Trust me, I can handle whatever it is.”
“We found a body inside your home.” Amanda was going to elaborate, but Dominique gasped. “I realize this may come as a shock.”
“Was it Christine?”
“It seems so, yes.” Amanda felt comfortable in committing to that much. It wasn’t official yet, which permitted a fine line of judgment. If the body was identified as Christine, her daughter deserved to be the first to know.
Dominique’s eyes hardened. “But you don’t know for sure? Dear God, was this person horribly disfigured? And all this happened in my home?” Dominique’s voice became more shrill the longer she spoke.
Amanda must have misread her earlier gasp. It wasn’t sprung from grief but irritation at the inconvenience this was causing her. “You miss the point that someone was murdered in your home, likely your real estate agent. Do you know when she was last scheduled to show your house?”
“She called Friday night, and I told her to go ahead.”
It was just as they thought, but that didn’t stop the verification from hitting. It was sad to think Christine had been dead inside for that long without anyone knowing. “And where have you been?”
“I left for Washington last Friday morning.”
“Is that where you came from?” Sweat trickled down Amanda’s back. She needed out of the direct sunlight, or she might find out if humans could melt due to global warming.
“It is.”
“And why were you there?” Amanda kept the questions rolling while Trent recorded Dominique’s responses in his notepad. Sometimes he was old-school. Other times he tapped them into the Notes app on his department-issued tablet.
“Business.”
Trent stopped writing. “We’ll need a bit more than that.”
“Then I’ll need to know why it’s relevant. Even if Christine was murdered, it has nothing to do with me.”
“A person was killed in your home. I doubt you want us to see you as interfering with a murder investigation,” Amanda pointed out.
“I don’t, but I also know my rights.”
Amanda’s redhead temper flared, but she remained silent as did Trent. He was scribbling away in his notepad. What he was writing, Amanda had no clue. Possibly uncooperative…
Dominique smiled. “I invented the silent card, Detective. You can play it as long as you like, but I’m not saying more than I already have.”
Another stream of sweat dripped down Amanda’s spine. Her forehead was soaking wet. It was like nothing fazed Dominique—not the heat or a murder in her house.
“Hey! Get away from the Cadillac!” Dominique yelled down to the street, flailing an arm at the crowd that was encroaching on her precious vehicle.
Correction. She is obsessed with her car… Diana Wesson wasn’t that far away from it, and she was waving at Amanda. Think myself invisible… Amanda faced Dominique again. “Ma’am, we need your focus here.”
“What more can I tell you? I wasn’t here and had nothing to do with it.”
“Yes, but you can see why we might be interested in the fact someone was killed in your home while you were away?” Amanda served back. “You’re going to need to tell us what took you to DC. Something more specific than business.”
“I’m in the middle of acquiring a DC law firm.”
“Was the trip to DC planned?” Amanda wasn’t sure if this would factor into Christine’s murder, but the more intel the better.
“Last minute. I decided I was going up on Friday.”
Amanda squirreled that away. “Do you know who might have an issue with Christine Lane?”
“I have no clue. We weren’t friends or anything. She worked for me.”
The distinction was noteworthy. Dominique seemed the type to think of herself as above those she paid. “Does anyone besides Christine Lane have a key or the code for your security system?”
“I’m sure you noticed the realtor lockbox on the door. Christine would have passed along the code to any other agents who came to show the house.”
“And did anyone else besides Christine show the house?” Dominique should know this because she would have had to step out for viewings to take place.
“Actually, no, I don’t think so.”
But Amanda’s mind was still grinding on this. Selling this house would net a sizable commission. Maybe a rival agent let jealousy get to them that Christine had this listing. “Anyone else have a key?”
“Just my maid.”
“What can you tell us about your housecleaner?” Amanda relabeled, not caring for the one that Dominique had used.
“Lucia is a sixty-year-old Spanish woman from Mexico. She’d have no reason to kill Christine. Honestly, I can’t imagine her killing anyone.”
Amanda felt comfortable ruling Lucia out, but there was one inconsistency. “If you have someone to clean your home, why do you have a robot vacuum?”
Dominique scrunched up her face. “Strange question, but okay, I’ll play. Lucia only comes in twice a week, so I have two robot vacuums set up to run for the days when she’s not here.”
Amanda didn’t understand how one woman living in such a large house would have a need for that much cleaning. The floors must be sterile enough to lick. “When are they set to go out?”
Dominique cocked an eyebrow but reached into her designer purse and pulled out her phone. “There’s no way I’m remembering that. Again, I find it odd that you care.”
“Please, oblige us,” Trent said. “We’re just interested in any set to run today.”
“There is one upstairs and one down. Both do a section at eleven AM and another at four PM.”
Amanda surmised they only had so much battery life, but that timing would explain why the one was still running when they’d arrived.
“Are you going to tell me why you care about my vacuuming?” Dominique slid her phone back into her purse.
“Open investigation, ma’am,” Trent said and earned a groan from the lawyer.
“Uh-huh. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Well, your house is a crime scene and may be locked down for several days.” Amanda didn’t feel bad laying that out bluntly.
“Just great. And how will I ever sell it now? It’s a murder house.”
The sale of this house was the least of Amanda’s concerns. “I can’t say. But you’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.”
“Fine.” Dominique started to walk back down the driveway toward her Cadillac.
“We’ll need to know where you’re going,” Amanda told her. “In case we have more questions.”
“I’m going to stay with my lover. Name’s Joel Blackburn, and he lives in town.” Dominique rattled off the address and phone number. Trent scribbled quickly in his notepad.
Amanda watched Dominique get into her vehicle after elbowing her way past several people.
Officer Cochran stepped in to get the crowd to stay back so Dominique could drive away.
Amanda turned to Trent. “If I don’t get inside, I’m going to become a puddle of goo.”
“Preach it.”
They pushed through the front door and stepped into the air-conditioning.
“It’s a dream in here.” Trent snapped his mouth shut.
Amanda dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. “Blame your poor word choice on heat stroke.”
“It would be a valid excuse. Frick, it’s smoldering out there.”
Her phone pinged with a text message. “It’s from Liam, and I’ll pass along the highlights.
” She read, then summarized. “Rideout’s squeezing the autopsy in now.
Prelim is two gunshots to the chest, one to the head…
nine mil, fired at a distance of fifteen to twenty feet.
No casings in the tarp, but it and the rope have been forwarded to the lab.
The tarp and rope appear to be brand new. ”
“That’s one novel-length text message.”
“Don’t knock it. I like all the detail.”
“True enough, but if you ask me, it sounds like a hit. All that, and he didn’t confirm ID?”
Three bubbles popped up in the thread, just before a new text showed up. She held the screen so Trent could read along with her.
Sorry that I missed saying vic is female, identified as Christine Lane. Compared driver’s license photo to deceased, and there were business cards in her pocket.
“Just as we feared,” she said to Trent and pecked back to Liam.
TOD?
Bubbles then…
Preliminarily a few days ago.
She showed this to Trent.
“That would place time of death sometime on Friday after her seven PM showing. Now to find out who requested the viewing here.” Trent opened the closet for Christine’s purse.
Amanda was moving slower, but it wasn’t just the heat. Before Liam’s message, a small part of her could cling to denial about the victim’s identity. With one text, that was gone. Now before the day was out, Amanda would be breaking Spencer’s and Riley’s hearts.