Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [16]
“That’s absurd.”
“And then there’s this little matter. . . .”
From his pocket he withdrew a cell phone. Amanda recognized it as Derek’s. Mercer scrolled down the screen, then pushed a button. He needn’t have bothered. Amanda knew full well what the message was.
“Derek, you are so dead. If you have any sense at all, you’ll stay in Italy, because the minute I see you, I am going to kill you.”
Mercer turned off the phone. “Do I need to play it again?”
She shook her head.
“And that is your voice?”
“Yes, of course it’s my voice,” she said, exasperated. “I was infuriated with him. Yes, I said that I would kill him, but that doesn’t mean I was really planning on killing him. And I did not. I wouldn’t have.”
“I have only your word for that. You had motive; you had opportunity. We only have your word that he didn’t arrive at your house last night. For all we know, he was there, or you met him someplace.”
“That’s preposterous.”
“Let the evidence prove that. Ms. Crosby, I’m going to need you to come down to the station to give me a statement. I’d also like to stop at your house and pick up the clothes you were wearing last night.”
“Looking for gunshot residue, right?” She began to seethe. “Want to test my hands with a metal detection reagent to see if I’ve fired a gun?”
“If you’ll let us, sure.” He hadn’t expected this. “Watch a lot of CSI, do you?”
She ignored the question. “The sooner you eliminate me, the sooner you’ll start to really investigate Derek’s murder and make a legitimate effort to find his killer. Of course, then you’ll have to do some real work.”
“Well, then, point me in another direction, Ms. Crosby. Who else would want to see Derek England dead? Who else stood to profit from his death? I see you now as sole owner of the business with a very valuable piece of pottery in your hands.”
“Why would I be sending it back, if I intended to sell it?”
“What proof do we have that you are sending it back?”
“Hang around for a while,” she snapped. “The courier should be here any time now.”
“Well, it’s easy enough to confirm through the company,” Mercer conceded, “though of course if he shows up now, it will be a wasted trip from his standpoint.”
“What do you mean?”
“Evidence,” he said as he began to secure the goblet in its wrappings. “The only place this is going is down to the station.”
She stood and stared while he placed the goblet into the smallest of the wooden boxes.
He looked up at her. “Am I doing this the right way?”
“No.” She pushed him aside and took over the task, fighting an urge to do him bodily harm.
She reminded herself that an assault on a police officer would get her jail time. She knew this for a fact, because her brother was a detective in a Philadelphia suburb and had recently testified against a woman who had attacked his partner with a baseball bat. His partner hadn’t been badly injured, but the woman still got time.
“Hello?” a voice called from the door. “Amanda?”
Marian O’Connor, the owner of the shop next door and a very good friend, poked her head in. “Oh. You’re busy. I . . . I can stop back. . . .” The woman backed up slightly at the sight of the police officer. “I can see you’re . . . well, I just wanted to say how terrible I feel about Derek. I just saw it on the news. . . .”
She began to cry. Amanda went to her. “Marian, thank you. I know that you and Derek were such good friends. I know you’ll miss him, too.” Amanda attempted to comfort her.
“I just don’t know how anyone could do such a thing. I truly don’t. Derek was such a good soul. . . .” Marian wiped the tears away with tissues she pulled from the pocket of her sweater. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll be at the funeral. We all will be. Everyone’s going to close their shops whenever the services are held so that we can attend.”
“Oh, that’s so good of you. All of you.” Amanda fought back the lump in her throat. “I know that Derek would have loved that you, well, that you all thought so highly of him.”
“We certainly did.