Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [13]
“So he left here around eleven, but he never arrived at your place?”
“No. He did not.”
“Weren’t you worried?”
“No, but I was a little pissed off. I thought he’d gotten distracted by something on his way over and just lost track of the time.”
“Is this something he did often?”
“Get distracted?” Tears filled her eyes. “At least once a day.”
Clark began to sob again, his head in his hands. Amanda rubbed his back to comfort him.
“What sort of things distracted Mr. England?”
“Anything that caught his fancy, really. It’s just the way he is. He sees something that interests him, he stops to take a closer look.” She wasn’t aware that she was speaking of him in the present tense. “He loses track of time. Is late for work. For appointments. For the most part, people forgive him because he’s charming.”
“So when he didn’t show up, you didn’t think anything of it.”
“Not really. Not at the time, anyway. We—Clark and I—thought maybe he’d stopped off at the home of some friends and maybe they were standing around talking. I told Clark that if he spoke with Derek before I did, to tell him to just go home, that I’d see him in the morning. And I went to bed.”
“When did you first become aware that Mr. England did not come home last night?”
“Clark called at one this morning, then again at three and then around five. At that point, I advised him to call the police. He called later to let me know that he’d done just that and that you were looking for Derek’s car.”
“Was your partner in the habit of picking up hitchhikers?”
“Derek?” She shook her head. “He always said he read too many murder mysteries. He’d never stop for a stranger. Why do you ask?”
“Someone was with him in his car last night.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He was shot through the head, Ms. Crosby. From behind. Whoever shot him was in the backseat.”
Clark collapsed on the sofa.
“Ms. Crosby?”
Amanda emerged from the back of the shop to find Chief Mercer standing near the door. It was close to two-thirty in the afternoon. When Clark’s brother arrived at Clark and Derek’s house to provide support, Amanda had taken the opportunity to leave, suddenly needing some time to sort things out and to grieve alone. That apparently wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“Oh. Hello.” She closed the door to her work space behind her. “Do you have any news?”
“Not really.” He looked around the shop as if assessing it. “I stopped at your house. I’d assumed you’d be closed for business today. I mean, after your partner being murdered like that . . .”
“I am closed for business,” she said stiffly, resenting his assumption. “I just stopped in because I . . . I had to pick up something.”
“Got a few minutes? I have a few questions.”
“Sure.”
“Did your partner have any enemies that you know of?”
“None that I know of.”
“Anyone he’d argued with recently?”
“No. Again, though, not that I know of.”
“Other than yourself.”
“Derek and I were not enemies.” She stared up at him. “We’ve been friends for years, business partners—”
“But I do understand there’d been an argument last night.”
Damn Clark.
“Yes, we argued on the phone over a business matter.” She kept her voice calm. “It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t have been the last.”
“Mr. Lehmann says your telephone conversation was quite heated. That Mr. England was quite upset when he left the house.”
“I imagine he was.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’d just reamed him out but good. He wasn’t looking forward to facing me.”
He smiled. Obviously, he knew all about that.
“Look, Derek has—had—a bad habit of making poor decisions. While he was on this trip abroad, he”—she checked herself—“made another one of his poor decisions. He bought something we couldn’t afford. It hurt the business. I’m sending the item back. As a matter of fact, the courier should be here any minute. I’m surprised he hasn’t been by already.”
“Courier?” His eyebrows raised appreciably. “FedEx won’t do? Must be something of great value.”
She could have kicked herself.
“What’s it