They’d need to verify it was still in the cabin.
“Did Ms. Gordon ever rent from you before?” Trent practically had his face pressed against the bullet-resistant plexiglass that separated the front and back seats.
“This was the first time.”
“And how did she find out about the cabin? Do you know?” Amanda asked.
“Harold Armstrong. He works for Alicia, and he recommended the place. He actually called on her behalf, told me she’d be calling. I did her a favor…” She stopped talking there, her eyes taking on intensity. “Some favor.”
“How did you do her a favor?” Amanda asked.
“I usually only rent the place out on a weekly basis.”
“You made an exception for Ms. Gordon?” Trent said, beating Amanda to the question.
“Yes.” She glanced at Trent, and somehow it emphasized how strange a sight it was seeing a cop in the back of a squad car. “She was booked for just a couple of nights. She checked in on Monday, and she was supposed to leave today.”
Today was Wednesday, and Alicia had died last night. “Do you know why she planned such a brief stay?” Another question in Amanda’s mind was why Alicia had even come here. Assuming Alicia lived in Woodbridge that was so close. Was she seeking solitude for some reason? Or had there been marriage problems, as Trent had suggested? Had she come out here to rendezvous with a lover—one who didn’t leave a trace? One who killed her and made it appear as if she’d just fallen asleep? Had she come to end her own life, out of sight from her family?
“I don’t know all the details. Just that she wanted a quick getaway. Ah, she did mention something about clearing her head.”
Someone in Alicia’s position would probably have a lot weighing heavily on her. There’d be a lot of responsibilities—not only on the professional front but personally. The younger boy in that picture would likely live at home with her. Amanda was relearning what it was like to have a young child to care for. It was almost seven years ago that she’d lost her husband, Kevin, and daughter, Lindsey, in a car crash to a drunk driver. Adopting Zoe Parker had reminded Amanda that balancing work and family was tough to pull off. It seemed one or the other always suffered.
“Did she mention why she might need to clear her head?” Trent asked.
Pamela shook her head. “No, she wasn’t telling me that. I was a stranger to her.”
Amanda was thinking the two people they should start with were Tony Bishop and Harold Armstrong.
Trent was scribbling in his notepad but paused long enough to ask, “Did you happen to be here when she arrived?”
“I was actually. Normally it doesn’t work out that way.”
“How did she strike you?” Amanda interjected before Trent could speak again. Often when people sought a getaway, there was something pushing them to do so whether that was stress, depression, or just the need to relax.
Pamela eventually said, “Distracted. Confused possibly.” She flicked a hand in the air. “Probably explains her needing to clear her mind.”
Amanda nodded, but she needed more to explain it away. In fact, depression could be a factor, as well as the feeling of being overwhelmed. Amanda gave her card to the woman. “My partner and I may be in touch with you again, but feel free to call me if you think of anything else that might help our investigation.”
“Will do, but before you leave, I have a question for you. Was Alicia murdered?”
Amanda stiffened. “Her death is being treated as suspicious. We would appreciate that you keep what happened here to yourself to respect her family’s right to be the first to know.” Not that Amanda saw Pamela as the type to run off and blather to the media, but the latter had a way of slinking out of hidey-holes when talk of a death hit emergency response radios.
“No problem there. It’s not exactly something I’d want to advertise.” Her eyes blanked over and settled on the cabin. “If she was, uh, killed here, I might end up selling the place. But it’s going to break my heart to do it. That cabin’s been in my family for three generations.”
“Well, there’s no need to rush into any decision.” Amanda smiled gently at her.
“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”
Amanda and Trent thanked Pamela for her cooperation and got out of the squad car. He was hobbling a bit and seemed to be struggling to stand straight.
“You all right there?”
“I will be.”
“Uh-huh. But how’s your ass?” The words slipped out, and her cheeks burned. “You know, because those seats in the back are molded plastic…” She was desperately trying to backpedal.
Trent smirked. “It’s a bit tender, if you must know.”
There was yet another victim on this property. Her. Cause of death: embarrassment.