TWENTY-ONE
Felicity Kelley was in her late twenties and nothing like her sister by appearance. She was ordinary, more plain Jane. She had long, light-brown hair which she had pulled back into a ponytail. Loose strands fell to her neck and curled around her ears, giving her an elfin look.
Amanda and Trent were standing across from Felicity in the woman’s living room—a hectic space with books and papers everywhere in huge stacks. One was over a foot high.
Felicity fussed about trying to clear a seat for them, but Amanda assured her they were fine.
“Please, take a seat,” Amanda said gently. She didn’t like to stand when delivering notifications in case it came across as intimidating.
“Ah, sure.” Felicity looked around and dropped into the only chair that didn’t have debris on it. “Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” She swept a hand over her hair, maybe a self-conscious move to tame the frizz, and let out a deep breath. “I’m just crunching against a deadline, and I fear I’m not going to make it.”
“Deadline?” Trent asked.
“Yes. I’m a writer. Mystery.” An awkward smile, as if Felicity were far more comfortable with her characters and the worlds she created than existing in reality. “Hey, you two wouldn’t mind helping me if I have police procedural-type questions, would you?”
“Not at all.” Amanda smiled kindly, wishing she was in this woman’s living room for any other reason than the true one. She looked around for a place to sit again. Guess I’m doing this standing… “Ms. Kelley, we have bad news about your sister, Eve. I’m sorry to say that she died this morning—”
“She what… she what now?” Felicity’s eyes widened and filled with tears.
“Eve died this morning in her office at Pixie Winks.” Amanda wished she could add that Eve hadn’t suffered at all.
“How?” Felicity rubbed her throat, the skin there growing blotchy with every swipe of her hand.
“We need to wait until an autopsy has been conducted to know for sure,” Amanda said. “But there are circumstances that lead us to believe her death is suspicious.”
Silence enveloped the room as Felicity sat there staring at them, her mouth opening and closing like a fish drawing in breath.
“We appreciate how shocking this must be,” Amanda said.
“No.” Felicity met her gaze and shook her head. “It’s not… well, it is but… You say ‘suspicious.’ I am quite certain someone killed her.” Stated with authority, unwavering conviction.
Amanda glanced at Trent, her brow furrowed. Back to Felicity. “Why would you think that, Ms. Kelley?”
“She… ah…” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she fell quiet for a second or two. “She was sure that she was being watched, followed.”
“She told you this?” Trent asked.
Felicity nodded, though it was barely perceivable. “We were close. There’s a bit of an age difference between us. Eleven years, but it never seemed to matter. She told me I was an old soul.” The hint of a smile toyed on the edges of her mouth, the expression likely squashed by heartache.
Amanda felt for the woman, but her mind was stuck on the fact that Eve had thought someone was following her. Why hadn’t she mentioned that to her and Trent when they spoke to her, when they’d asked about threats against her? Had it been pride, fear of being seen as paranoid? “How long did she feel that she was being watched?” Amanda asked.
“Just in the last week, say.”
After Alicia’s death. Was the person who had drugged her still picking off victims from some sort of macabre checklist? They already knew that Lopez and Reynolds had been threatened, but did they feel watched as well? “She ever find out who it was?”
Felicity shook her head.
Trent shifted his weight. “Where was she when she felt like someone was watching her?”
“Everywhere. At work, home, when she was out.”
“Did she ever say why she thought this?” Amanda was trying to read the woman’s micro expressions, the ones that would disclose underlying emotional responses, but as of yet had witnessed none.
“She had made an offer to buy New Belle, which you probably know?” Felicity paused there, but continued after Amanda and Trent confirmed they did. “She was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t a good idea.”
“We spoke with your sister, and she never mentioned any of this to us,” Amanda said, knowing it was possible, as she’d thought a second ago, that the sensation had started after their conversation last week. But why not say something this morning?
“My sister was a very proud person, and she lived her life concerned about what other people thought of her. She wouldn’t have said any of this to you in case she’d be perceived as crazy.”
“We would have taken her seriously.” Amanda was certain they would have. After all, when they had spoken to Eve the first time, it was just after Alicia Gordon had died suspiciously. This last week, if she’d brought up the feeling of being watched, would they have taken her at her word? Or would they have viewed it as a ploy to deflect how guilty she looked?
“Did she ever catch sight of a strange car in the neighborhood, anything like that?” Trent must have felt like Amanda—that they needed more to go on than just Eve’s feeling she was being watched. But the fact that she was now dead did lend credit to her thinking.
“Not that she told me. She described it more as eyes lurking in the shadows. When she looked, no one was ever there.”
Amanda could only imagine how intimidating and violating that would feel. “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm your sister?”
“No one specific comes to mind.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss.” Amanda bridged the gap between her and Felicity and gave the woman her card. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”
Felicity shook her head and sniffled. “I’ll muddle through.”
“All right. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out. Or if you have questions about procedure for your books.” Amanda pointed toward her card in Felicity’s hand. “We can have someone from Victim Services come see you too.”
“Thanks.”
Amanda and Trent left. Her steps were heavy, laden with fear and regret. If only Eve had mentioned something to them, perhaps she and Trent could have prevented her death. Was there a clue sitting back at the station among Eve’s hate mail?
Trent looked over at her once they were back in the car.
“Not liking the sound of that… Eve feeling watched,” he said.
“Nope. It would be nice if we had somewhere to go from here, though. A description of the person, even if Eve had only gotten a glimpse of them. Or a vehicle, as you asked about.”
“It could go a long way. Felicity said Eve felt followed everywhere. We need to retrace her steps, find out her routine, see if we can get anywhere that way.”
“Yes, and another idea—let’s go speak with her neighbors and see if any of them noticed a strange vehicle or person hanging around.”
Trent put the car into gear, and they proceeded to do just that for the next couple of hours.
Their efforts resulted in nothing.
Next, they called Rocco Lopez and Dale Reynolds. Rocco felt watched but Dale didn’t.
Trent was now driving them back to Central, and they were no further ahead on the case. Not really. Sure, Eve had felt watched, but who had been lurking in the shadows and would they be reemerging any time soon to claim another victim?