Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Sierra looked up when Amanda entered the Best Homes Realty office with Trent. Her eyes were wide and wet, and her complexion was pale.
“Detectives? Did you find Christine?”
Amanda felt compassion for Sierra living in limbo, but yesterday had been nonstop. “Unfortunately, we did.”
Sierra gasped a loud sob, drawing Art out from his office.
“What happened?” He walked up behind Sierra, with his hand hovering above his employee’s shoulder shy of making contact.
“Christine was found murdered at the Charmed Court listing.” To the point was always the best way to handle things like this.
Sierra looked over her shoulder at her boss and sprung from her chair, retreating down a hallway.
“You’ll have to excuse her. She’s young, and this is quite the shock.” Art rubbed his jaw.
Amanda didn’t think age had anything to do with how a person took this type of news. “We can imagine it is. No one is prepared for this. We’re sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. But, just wow, this is a lot to process. How is Riley doing? I assume she knows.”
Amanda nodded. “She was informed yesterday. The road ahead for her will be rough.”
“I can’t imagine all she’s feeling. That poor girl.” Art shook his head. “I’m going to have to figure out how to let Christine’s clients know about this. How does one even go about something like that?”
“Just be honest. You can mention Christine has passed unexpectedly, but I’d recommend leaving out the part that she was murdered,” Amanda suggested.
“I see how that might be best.”
Amanda let a few beats of silence pass before she spoke again. “Since we’re here, Detective Stenson and I would like to talk to Marcy Maxwell, if she’s in.” There was no reason to disclose talking with her was their primary reason for this visit.
Art’s face scrunched up. “Marcy? Why?”
She could take advantage of this minor detour. “What was her relationship like with Christine?” She’d take what Art told them and compare it to what Marcy might say.
“Competitive.”
Amanda’s gaze went to the agent-of-the-year portraits, and it had Art glancing at them, back at her.
“You can’t think that Marcy killed Christine over some title and a picture on the wall.” Art’s voice was low.
“I’m sure there’s far more to being agent of the year,” Amanda said.
“Well, there’s the honor and prestige that goes with it. The accomplishment is also publicized in a realty magazine.”
“Is there any monetary bonus?” If there was, it became even more understandable why the competition was fierce.
“No, but the top agent needs to have earned the most money for the firm.”
“Mr. Beasley, could you elaborate on your answer to Detective Steele’s question about Christine’s relationship with Marcy, beyond competitive?” Trent asked.
“I’m sensing the real question you want answered is do I see Marcy killing Christine? If so, then no. Not at all. But that listing on Charmed Court was a sore spot for her.”
Amanda glanced at Trent, curious if it was enough of one to motivate murder. The voicemails Marcy had left hadn’t sounded cordial. “How so?”
“The homeowner is some high-powered lawyer, who is eager to sell her home, and she demanded the best. Sierra told her that Marcy was our agent of the year last year and put her through to Marcy. This call came on a Friday, though, and Marcy wasn’t in any position to accept the call or return it.”
“Why not?” Art had told Amanda yesterday that a real estate agent’s livelihood depended on their phones.
“A random, fluke thing. Marcy left early on that Friday and took a last-minute flight south for the weekend. By the time Marcy returned to the office on Monday, the homeowner had called again. This time demanding to speak with someone who would get the job done.”
Amanda could fill in where that had wound up. “Which is how Christine came to get the listing.”
“That’s right. I’m just grateful the homeowner called again. At least the firm received the listing. She could have gone somewhere else.”
“And now that Christine’s dead, who will handle the account?” Amanda gave herself one guess.
“Marcy.” Art spoke slowly.
“Then Marcy benefits from Christine’s death.” Now that strengthened Marcy’s motive to kill her.
“Yes, yes, I suppose so.”
Trent angled his head, his gaze on Art. “Can you tell us how Marcy handled it when she first realized she missed out on the listing?”
“I can, and it wasn’t well. But still, I’m going to repeat myself here. I could never see her killing Christine over it.”
Amanda would determine that. “Is Marcy in the office?”
“Not at the moment. I could call her—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sierra returned sniffling with puffy eyes. “Marcy should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and a woman in her late thirties walked in with an aura of confidence and superiority.
A huge purse was hooked over one of her shoulders, but it wasn’t the weight of it that had her stopping in place.
She’d set her gaze on Amanda and Trent while never meeting their eyes.
“Ms. Maxwell,” Amanda said, recognizing her from the framed photo. “I’m Detective Steele, and this is Detective Stenson. We have some questions for you concerning Christine Lane.”
Marcy adjusted the strap of her bag. “What about? Did you find her?”
“She was murdered,” Sierra spat out, and Amanda winced. She’d have preferred to break that news herself.
“She was what?” Marcy’s eyes widened before she turned them on Amanda. Her mouth parted. No words came out.
Art and Sierra remained quiet now.
“It would be best if we could speak somewhere private,” Amanda told the real estate agent.
“You can use the conference room, Marcy,” Art told her.
“Ah, sure, this way.” Marcy took them to a fair-sized office with a table and six chairs. She set her huge bag on a chair and sank into the one next to it.
“We understand that you and Christine had a bit of a rivalry going,” Amanda began.
“Sure. But you said she’s dead… murdered? Are you sure it was her? Sometimes people get it wrong.”
Amanda blamed shock for such an oddball reaction. “We are, yes. She was found inside the house on Charmed Court.”
Shadows passed over Marcy’s eyes, and she licked her lips.
“We heard that listing was going to be yours.” Amanda laid the bait to see if it would get a nibble.
“It should have been.”
“And why wasn’t it?” It would be interesting if she told them the truth as they just heard it from Art or made up her own version.
Marcy gave them the same account, and added, “When Christine got the call, she should have put it over to me. But she didn’t. It wasn’t fair. Dominique Sharp tried to reach me first.”
“But you weren’t available, so Ms. Sharp did what she had to. She wanted to sell her house,” Trent pointed out.
Marcy shrugged back into her chair and crossed her arms.
“Why are you so uncomfortable?” Amanda asked.
“Because I know what you’re getting at here.”
Amanda gestured toward Marcy. “Which is?”
She stared in Amanda’s eyes. “You know what? Never mind. I know what I’ve done and haven’t done. And I’m not going to candy-coat things just because she’s dead. Christine took a lot of pleasure in nabbing that listing.”
With what they’d learned about Christine, she didn’t sound vindictive, but her relationship with Marcy may have brought it out in her. Amanda could imagine that Marcy would make quite a rival in selling homes. “And how did that make you feel?”
“Angry. But also determined. She might have gotten the listing, but I was going to sell the house. But I guess now I know why she never returned my calls. I’m assuming you heard them.”
Both Amanda and Trent nodded.
“I admit leaving them didn’t show me in the best light, but look at it from my side. She snatched the listing from me and then was ignoring my request to show the house.”
“Not ignoring. She was dead,” Amanda corrected.
“Which I realize now. I didn’t know that when I left the voicemails. All I knew was she was AWOL yesterday… But I swear I didn’t kill her.”
“Yet you just admitted to knowing she was missing yesterday. Why not reach out to us and mention these voicemails? Get ahead of things? Were you hoping we wouldn’t want to speak with you?
” If Marcy had killed Christine, she had to know the police would get around to her.
Had she failed to realize how keeping silent would make her look like she was trying to hide away?
“I thought about telling you, but why would I? I just figured she’d show up. Again, it’s not like I knew she was murdered.”
“Where were you Friday night between ten and eleven o’clock?” Trent asked.
Marcy slipped him a frosty stare. “You suspect I killed her?”
“We’re just talking right now, Ms. Maxwell,” Amanda cut in. “But we need to know your whereabouts.”
“I was at my friend’s place for an evening pool party. I got into the cocktails and ended up having too many. You can call her. She’ll tell you I passed out and spent the night.”
The woman was about Amanda’s age, and she’d long grown out of getting drunk and crashing at a friend’s house. But to each their own. “Her name and number?”
“Caleigh.” Marcy took out her phone and rattled off the number. “Try her now. I swear, she’ll confirm what I just told you.”
Trent punched the digits into his phone. A few seconds later, he was announcing himself as a detective with the Prince William County PD and asking about Friday night. He ended the call with a “thank you” and pocketed his phone again. He nodded at Amanda.
“See?” Marcy flailed a hand toward Trent.
“I told you the truth. Christine and I might have had a strained relationship, but I never would have killed her. It’s not even something that’s ever entered my mind.
In fact, if anything, the competition between us made me a better agent, more ambitious. I respected her for that much.”
Amanda stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Maxwell, and we’re sorry for your loss.”
With that, she left the room with Trent, and they returned to the car.
“All right, back to zero suspects,” he said, starting the engine.
She appreciated he was now running on the assumption that the ballistics on Spencer’s gun would clear him. “That we are. I say we go back to Central and dig through Christine’s full call history. We track down all the numbers and read all her emails. It will take a lot of work, but…”
“It could be worth it.”